One of the things I’ve been saying over the past few months is, “I’d really like to find out who reads the applications and scores them. Then I could pick their brains and see what they’re looking for”.

So today I roll into the office and there’s someone at my desk. This is annoyingly common: lots of senior people rotate through our office because there are always desks free and for some reason, probably the reason I picked it, people pick my desk to sit at. I found myself by the printer, which is next to my desk and this person introduces herself: Guess what? Yeah, she does the recruiting for the department. So, I got her email and she wants me to send over my application so that she can look over it and give me feedback…..and there are jobs coming up in September in the department…..


So if things go tits up with my application to the other department then I have a fallback, a fallback which pays more although it lacks glamour and the promotion prospects aren’t good, but then again it gives me more experience and I could do it for six months, save a fortune up and still go for the job that I actually want.

So. Much. Win.





My next application is about ready for submission and it is a thing of beauty. It’s composed of four questions about situations where you have met the various criteria and you have two hundred and fifty words to answer each question. So the challenge is to communicate a complex situation in two hundred and fifty words.

If I’ve learned anything over the past few months it’s concision and also to really sell myself. “I’m not really staff” becomes “I saw the opportunity to expand my role” etc. You can’t mention anyone except maybe in passing and this person is always passive and acting because of you, even if it’s your boss. So I emailed my boss and she implemented a new email system, but in the application I initiated change and innovation and a new email system was implemented. It’s an exercise in pure narcissism!

Le Update.

I’m in an interesting place. I’m getting where I want to be albeit slowly. I’m getting interviews for the organisation that I want to be in, and from what people tell me in the office just getting an interview is a an achievement and competition is fierce. So I didn’t get the last job that I interviewed for but I wasn’t despondent in any way when I found out, actually I found out because I was checking that application in the process of preparing another application for them.

I found my reaction, or lack thereof, interesting. Usually not getting the job would send me into a funk and I’d be questioning my ability and generally  beating myself up but this time it just made me more determined. A similar thing happened the last time I got rejected, I just knuckled down and got on with the application that got me the interview. I’ve grown so much in these last few months and my confidence has really shot up: I now expect that sooner or later I’m going to get the post that I want, I see it as simply being a matter of time and preparation.

So I’m pretty much finished with this latest application and I’m very pleased with it, I think it’s much stronger than the last one which makes me very confident of getting an interview again and I’ve talked with some people in the office and they’re going to put me through mock interviews until I’m fully prepped at which point I’ll get the job.

Then it’s two months of security checks. I actually like the idea of having a job that requires a security clearance. Partly this is due to a sort of egotistical glee and partly this is because, as I see it, I’ll have some serious responsibility and I really want responsibility at this point in my life. I want the feeling of doing something useful.

All in all then, things are positive, I’m getting there.


I don’t seem to care about rejection. Over the past few weeks I’ve been busy talking to women like mad and I’ve got a fair few knockbacks, as is to be expected, but recently I find that I’m waiting for a negative reaction in myself, some feeling of embarrassment or disappointment or pain and there’s none.

I’ve gone from seeing Dakota as the centre of the universe with a few other women as alternatives to seeing a universe stocked with limitless women and if one says no then I shrug my shoulders and move on to the next one. Nothing phases me anymore. If I’m talking to a woman on tinder and she isn’t making the right noises I just unmatch her. If she’s not what I want then why would I talk to her?

I’m actually starting to wonder if this isn’t a long hypomanic episode except that I don’t feel hypomanic, I feel settled and centred. I’m sleeping better too.

The last couple of weeks have been really interesting for introspective/self-absorbed little me. I feel this strength and confidence and dominance building. My sexual fantasies have changed, the way I interact with women is changing. Internally I can see big changes in the way I think.

It’s bizarre. I’ll be chatting with V, who I’ve been chatting to for months as I get coffee, and half my brain is looking at her as a person with thoughts and feelings and admiring her personality and just enjoying the interaction but then, simultaneously,  half of my brain just sees a piece of meat to impregnate and this is new. It’s not that I haven’t thought about sex with her before, she has nice boobs and is that kind of chubby that somehow is quite sexy, and she’s just generally cute, but the desire to dominate her wasn’t there. It was a sort of, “Sex with her would be really good” rather than “I’m going to fuck her” type feeling.

Thinking about it now I wonder if this isn’t my whole problem: I just haven’t been aggressive enough with women. My newfound aggressiveness has already paid off, in fact. Let’s call her GB and I’m sort of grinning from ear to ear about her: She’s German, lives not far away, appreciates directness and honesty, and is gorgeous: the kind of woman that men stop and stare at. So we’ve met online, she’s verified so I know that she’s a real person, plus I’m a good enough of a linguist to know female language when I see it.

I sent her a message which was both long and ballsy. Literally ballsy by the looks of it and her response was literally, “Wow” and she’s sent a couple of quite warm and enthusiastic messages so I’m feeling quite proud and smug at the moment. Suffice to say that when you move from “it would be nice” to “I’m going to” then things start happening. So I’m asking out V tomorrow and I’m going to fuck her over the weekend.


So let’s not say that I’ve stopped masturbating, but I don’t let myself cum. I don’t know how long I’m going to keep this up, I can’t say that it feels like a challenge to keep this up. The effects are interesting though, my breast fantasies are totally gone and I feel myself becoming more confident, more dominant, my thoughts have switched from Dakota to BM.

I was laying in bed earlier thinking about her and the fantasy I was having shocked me as I was having it. We’re in the bar where she works and we see each other. She shoots me that scornful glance as she walks by and this triggers me and I wait for her to come back.

As she does I grab her by her hair and I pull her in close to me. “What the fuck do you want?” she says. There’s not a hint of fear in her, she’s aggressive, she looks at me in an almost hateful way. “I’m here for you, I’m making you mine”. “Fuck off”. I kiss her. It’s wild and passionate and I feel her body relax a little but the grip on my hand is still firm.

I push her towards the door, but I sort of feel that I’m being led. Once through we’re alone in the kitchen. I try to kiss her again but she pulls back and spits in my face. “I know how to handle bitches like you” I growl at her and she flashes her teeth “Oh, you think you can handle me, now”. I thrust my hand between her legs and up her skirt, her thighs are wet. She’s still looking at me scornfully as she tries to pull away, but I pull her in and force her to kiss me. She bites my lip and holds it, we’re both panting now, I’m rubbing her pussy, our eyes locked, her nails digging into my arm for a moment I feel her relax and submit.

Running her hands over her body, she begins to hitch her dress up, I sense her body wiggle as she takes her panties off, the tension drops off, she lets go of my lip and her kisses soften. I lift her onto the counter and spread her legs and her intoxicating scent fills the room but she still has that look in her eye, spiteful, scornful, aggressive.

She slaps me and pushes me away. “You think I’m just going to give it to you?” I move in again and again she slaps me and pushes me away, “Take it. You want it. Take it. I’m not just going to give it to you”. Provocatively she spreads her legs wide, and smiles at me, the first smile she’s given me as she theatrically starts to play with her pussy, reveling in my reaction, she knows that I’m on the edge as it is and I could lose control at any moment.

She tries to slap me again but I grab her wrist. She struggles  against me, spits at me, growls at me, “Come and take it!” as I pin her to the wall and slap her and she tries to bite me. She relents a little as I get my cock out and for a moment we gaze into each other’s eyes, both panting heavily, her huge chest heaving and I can’t hold out anymore, I thrust right into her grabbing hold of her tightly. Her legs wrap around me, I feel her pulling me in as her arms also wrap around me. All I’m conscious of is her, the scorching heat and wetness of her pussy, her panting in my ear, her breasts pressed against me.

I struggle so hard not to cum and I’m totally on the edge as she grinds hard against me. “I need you” I blurt out. “I’m here, I’m here” she softly pants. “I’m going to cum” I moan as I try to pull out. I feel her nails in my back, digging in, her thighs tensing against my body. “Cum in me. Cum in me or I’ll never be yours. Make me yours, cum in me. It’s what you want. Show me that you know how to handle a bitch like me” she growls aggressively. This sends me over the edge and I lose all control. I can feel my cum rushing through my cock and shooting into her and just at that moment I feel her whole body tense and she buries her head in my shoulder to muffle her moans so that none of the other staff hear.

She relaxes, I look into her eyes, they’re almost pleading. I stroke her face softly, I kiss her forehead, we exchange a few soft kisses. Everything is so tender now. She’s stroking my back and for the first time I start to gently play with her massive breasts. “You’re always looking at them” she smiles so softly. I bury my face in her cleavage, she kisses my forehead as she takes one out and instinctively I begin to suckle and she moans a little. “You’re mine now” she sighs.


It’s interesting walking through town and seeing all these guys in suits. It really makes me grimace. Like half of them look like rejected fashion models/slightly too camp to project an air of competence and most of the rest look like they think that they’re eighteen and going to a prom or they’re some kind of dodgy used car salesmen. It’s a quarter to a half inch of cuff, not half your fucking sleeve!

A man should never attempt to look flash, because it never works out. At best you look like the young buck who’s trying to make an impression, which immediately signals that you’re the young buck who hasn’t got anywhere in life yet. Also I think that generally, as a man, avoiding fashion and sticking with style, especially classic style, is probably the best course.