Abby Lee - Diary of a Sex Fiend: Girl with a One Track Mind
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- Book:Diary of a Sex Fiend: Girl with a One Track Mind
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There are a few people I would like to show my appreciation to, for without them, this book would not have been possible.
Thank you to Jake Lingwood, Rachel Rayner and the rest of the team at Ebury Press for their encouragement and passion for the book.
Thank you to my agent Simon Benham, who got it from day one.
Thank you to Ian Vince, for the introduction and helpful advice.
Thank you to David Bloom, for the guidance and support.
Thank you to Alex Marsh, the writer of JonnyBs Private Secret Diary, who has been a trusted friend as well as a brilliant sounding board.
Thank you to my parents, who have been wonderful, supportive and loving. And who I hope never read the book.
Finally, I must say a huge thanks to all the readers of my blog. Their positive feedback played a part in my writing this and I am grateful for all their support over the last two years.
Abby Lee is 32, lives in London and works in the film industry.
Her website detailing her real-life sex diaries has had over 2 million visitors and now attracts more than 100,000 readers every month. It was recently awarded Best British or Irish Blog at the 2006 Bloggies.
You can read her blog at:
www.girlwithaonetrackmind.blogspot.com
Quite frankly I need a shag.
The last person I slept with was my ex, Steven, and that was months ago. Now Im gagging for some more action.
Last night I thought Id struck it lucky. The whole of London was partying. It seemed like I was surrounded by possibilities; everywhere I looked, there were men with potential. So when I encountered not one, not two, but three promising blokes, I figured something would happen with one of them, right?
With some friends from work egging me on, and the help of a few beers, I plucked up the courage to approach one of the guys. Ill call him Party Boy.
As we chatted he seemed funny, sweet and kind. I felt confident enough to flirt a little and even blurted out that he had a nice arse, but he said he didnt want to take things any further and left me standing there on my own by the bar. Result: confused.
Round two: Brainy Bloke.
Shy, but witty and clever. We got into a deep conversation about ID cards. I thought I was in there with a chance, but midway through my polemic on the Labour Partys authoritarianism, he walked off to chat to a pretty blonde girl instead. Result: annoyed .
Round three: Tall Man.
Smart, and handsome in a cute way. After leaving the club, we drunkenly kissed in the street, then suddenly he said he had to go home to get some sleep and left me there waiting for a night bus. Result: gutted.
I cant understand what went so wrong. I think Im not a bad looker (if youre into curvy brunettes who go for a run three times a week); I reckon Im reasonably intelligent, perhaps even funny. I know Im clumsy and have big feet, but surely having big boobs balances out the negatives?
Something must be really unappealing about me or my approach; I thought at least one of these blokes would result in some action. I was wrong on three counts. To misread all three situations so badly must surely mean Ive lost my mojo ? If so, how do I get it back?
And why is this happening now, when Im in my sexual prime?
I suppose doing a Bridget Jones and sitting in on a Saturday night wondering where all the good men are, doesnt help matters. But after three rejections, Im not quite sure if I can pluck up my courage and try a new approach just yet. I need a little time to recover.
Im going to have to do something soon though, because my vibrators are getting a hell of a bashing.
Combine horniness with a new broadband connection and you get a girl who is spending far, far too long on-line.
Its all getting too much for me; the fast downloading speed has meant I keep looking at porn, and then I end up yet again with my hands in my nether regions. What a timewaster I am.
Its not just the porn-surfing either. Ive discovered weblogs too, and find them totally compelling. I love finding out what goes on in other peoples lives, especially the ones who have more, and more interesting, sex than me. Im starting to get addicted to some of them and check them every day for new posts.
Not all of my favourites are erotic well, obviously erotic. Some of them are very funny, and if theres one thing I like other than good sex its someone with a killer sense of humour. If they can make me laugh theres nothing like that endorphin rush; its a fantastic release of energy, just like a good orgasm. And I certainly like those.
Thats probably why a man with a good sense of humour has always made more of an impression on me than someone with a handsome face or who is skilled in bed. Its a very sexy quality for a man to have; when he makes me laugh, I loosen up and then I begin to feel at ease, and then it starts to turn me on.
So I cant read the weblogs which make me giggle the most without wondering about the men who write them. They make me feel so good that I find myself wanting to know what theyre like in real life, and if they know what pleasure they give me when they write. And that they turn me on. I doubt it.
Theres one which stands out. This guy Ill call him Blog Boy has me in fits of laughter with every post. I love his style its not just that its hilarious, its also very honest, and that makes me curious about just how warm and genuine he might be in real life. And yes, he makes my pants wet when I read him, even though I have no idea what he looks like or if hes single.
That sense of humour alone was enough to make me take the plunge and email him to see if he fancied a beer. Its probably stupid he could be a weird internet psycho for all I know, but I still have to know what might happen if we meet up. If hes anything like his on-line persona it could be very interesting. You never know what might be on the cards. If I get my wicked way with him, that is.
When I tell people what I do for a living, they tend to get all excited and start asking me questions like:
Ooh! Do you meet lots of famous people, then? Whos the most famous actor you have worked with?
I wearily mention that being a camera assistant in the film industry often means having to be at work at 5 a.m. and then getting home after 10 p.m., and that the constant tiredness rather takes the glitz and the glamour off being surrounded by celebrities.
Because I am freelance, it means I also have to be ready to work at all times with no preparation because a job could come up at the last minute. The last minute being, for example, 6 a.m. this morning.
Last night I stumbled in drunk from a gig at about 2 a.m. and fell into bed, only to be woken by the phone a few hours later.
What cock-sucking-bastard-wanker is phoning me at this fucking hour? I thought, as I tried to recall whether I gave my number out last night and wished the painful pounding in my head would go away.
The call went to voicemail, and a moment later, I picked up my mobile to listen to the message, just in case.
It was an emergency plea. Film freelancers get a lot of these. Invariably they need you now because their regular person is ill/hungover/been sacked/gone onto another (better) project, and theyve got work for you, but can you be there in an hour ? That sort of thing.
I had to think it over: I felt rotten. Hardly any sleep, my head like a fucking vice, the knowledge that if I said yes I would have to be on my feet for more than 12 hours none of this was appealing.
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