Tiffany upstairs needs me at least in practical ways. She has been for her penis removing at last and a vagina putting in. I’ve been feeding Oedipuss while she was in hospital.
She shows me her new genitalia, then we look at Guardian Soulmates online. Some are quite nice. Since we are both open to either a woman or a man (how flexible is that), Tiff suggests going halves on a subscription.
‘But I’d only tick ‘fling’ for myself, Tiff. You want the whole big affaire d’amour.’
‘I don’t believe you just want a fling. The way you go on about Conservative Jeremy.’
‘CJ? Pah! He was just a shag.’
‘I don’t know how you could have gone to bed with a Conservative.’
‘ The ‘C’ isn’t his politics. He only does missionary position.’
‘I’d love that.’
‘Anyway I’m deffo not ready for another seventeen-year joined-at-the-hip thing like with Ilka.’
‘Oh, I want joined-at-the-hip. I want forever. I want the love of a good woman. Or a knight on a white horse.’
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