Standing outside the train station today, I was fortunate to have the 'pleasure' of listening to a group of Chavs. Minding my own business and quietly finishing my cigarette, I did my best to act as though I couldn't hear them.  Lucky me, they were loudly and unashamedly discussing their sex lives. Or as they referred to it, 'shagging'.
Don't get me wrong I have used this verb myself in the past. I have even shagged.  But there is something so crude, so scuzzy about this that I couldn't help starting to think.
The purpose of this blog was to help keep me on track.  It was not started as a break-up diary, nor an anti-men rant, nor the space for a bitter washed up old housewife to be venemous.  I'm aware that some of my posts are not as positive as they could be.  But they will never be contrived or written for an audience.  This is an honest, accurate reflection of what I feel most days.  As with other people, my moods go up and down.  The difference is, I'm being honest and admitting that I am not always Little Miss Sunshine, and that I have feelings and thoughts. 
Neither was it designed to be a graphically detailed account of my sex life. 
It has become clear to me that this is also serving as a good account of my feelings the last few months, and that is no bad thing.  Only by realising what emotions I have experienced the last few months, as in seeing it written in black, white and shades of blue, can I truly undertake the self-realisation and introspection that I hope will enlighten me and make me a better person.