Cats and dating, but not dating cats. That would be weird.

I love the word spinster.  It's one of the words I want to reclaim.  That's and a lot of words that have fallen out of use. Like peculiar and the proper use of suffix -ly.  You know I heard an academic drop the -ly this morning.  It seems destined for the grammar bin.

Anyway, I'm a spinster with three cats.

• Spot who is terrified of humans apart from me when I lie down.
• Esther who rules the household with an iron paw and sneezes a lot.
• Mally who seemed to be dropped on me from a great height, but is really loving and playful despite the fact that he should be well out of his teen age years.

So that makes me the archetypal middle aged woman.  The one that people joke about - see Jane Austen's Emma. I'll be crocheting antimacassars  next.

No next I'm going to find a man. I'm not looking for marriage or to move in with me.  All I want is someone to be pleased to go out with me and have sex occasionally.  This is proving to be hard work.

I'm a 47 year old fat woman. I'm okay with that, but men seem to dislike fat women.  I've met a couple who have reveled in my belly and boobs and we had lots of fun.  But time and responsibilites have meant that's not happening anymore.

Then there's my preferred choice of bloke. I'm supposed to look like older men, with no neck but a plentiful belly.  Men that look like thumbs.  I like a man who is quite slim and not that tall. I'd prefer a man with some hair and not men with comeovers. And I really like a younger man.  So sue me.  I have my preferences too.

So follow me in what happens. You might be interested.