Marshmallow

d. was complaining recently to k. that all he seems to do of late is hang around with women. It's not that he doesn't love the ladies, but being the brute of a man that he is he does like to mingle with other testosterone-laden chaps and talk about.....stuff. You know. Porn, probably.

So tonight I'm having my Oscars party, which was once an annual event but now only happens when I can be bothered. The invitation was clear: the event is girls only, no exceptions for even the most girly-man - or a gent with man-boobs.

k. rang me to tell me that d. is all put out that he can't come. I think all this talk about the need for male company is just a front. I saw him the other day and complimented him on the shirt he was wearing, told him that the colour suited him. I swear he giggled and tossed his hair slightly. He might have even batted his eyelashes. And they are very long and luscious. k., has he been playing with your mascara again??