Martin and Me

Hey gals!

So excited about the party this weekend, the wigs for my Vagina cakes (aka merkins) are coming on a treat, but I'm still experimenting: the candyfloss keeps dissolving. Does anyone have any ideas?

Also to put another dampener on the occasion, remember my boyfriend Martin? Well I have been incredibly busy recently researching for my latest historical endeavour, Put that Woman Down: The Amazing Adventures of Meredith Lynchfield (about the founding of the militant suffrage movement at Girly College, Cambridge) so we've been a little distant these last few months. Don't get me wrong we have a GREAT relationship. He's a record producer and I'm a freelance writer, he drives an Audi TT and I have a little Panda. We both flout gender stereotypes on a daily basis and have buckets of fun cuddling up to watch repeats of QI on a Saturday night.

But then there's Josh, or maybe his name's Jake, I can never quite remember. Either way it begins with a 'J' for 'Just naff off and leave me alone you little shit!' He's Martin's son, aged eight or something there abouts.

Now, I have nothing against children, expect the fact that they are the plague of woman. Can females ever be free with the chains of maternity wrapped round their neck and clogging up their fallopian tubes? Mary Wollstonecraft died in childbirth, if it wasn't for childbirth she might have gone on to write far better books than Adam Smith, even Karl Marx.

So Martin wanted us all to go on a little trip to Centre Parks this weekend to bond, but "no" said I, "Tis Mary's birthday, I cannot leave!" Also, why would I, Posie bloody Rider want go to Centre Parks?

An argument ensued and Martin stormed out to the pub (I think he has a drinking problem - also because I once found a litre of Armagnac secreted in his suit pocket). What am I to do? I cannot tolerate Josh, he just poos all the time, and I'm rather petrified of him. He once tried to sexually molest me, I'm sure of it. No one believes me but he's incredibly misogynistic and often asks me to accompany him to the loo.

I shall stay in London, but now Martin won't answer any of my calls, and inane texts messages saying things like "Why won't you answer my calls?" The other night I found him crying on his own in the gutter outside Pret a Manger by Angel tube station, he said he was just popping out to buy a wrap, but I know he had been drinking. He also had strange nightmares in which he cries "Please, I want to be good!" I don;t know why he's panicking, his mission of self-improvement is coming on a treat! He's making cracking progress on George Eliot: I bought him all her books for Easter! We also go to Yoga togther and he just loves coming to my all-gender group for feminists. Sure he puts up a fuss when I make him wear his This is What a Feminist Looks Like t-shirt, but I know he loves it really. Like I said we have a GREAT relationship...