35 years!
I dated a lovely man when I first got to London. He was fabulush indeed; kind, gentle, witty, intelligent and the sex was so good that I still walk a bit crooked.

I was 21 and could hardly afford to eat. I was doing my best to live a bohemian existence where bohemian = starving and a bit dirty.

He was 56, retired and extraordinarily wealthy. He had a huge house, nice cars and expensive taste in wines.

Now I know what you’re thinking there, kids. But I dumped him when he kept trying to buy me flashy and expensive things. The last straw was a diamond tennis bracelet, I looked at it and immediately equated it to lost sandwiches. I just wanted feeding, maybe sleeping in a building that wasn’t covered in stray pubic hair and dried up snails.
(TheSnark oh, c'mon, like you didn't see me coming, Thu 4 Dec 2008, 15:46, 2 replies)

You're just the worst prostitute ever

(Seance Trumpet has got no beef with a man enjoying a croissant, Thu 4 Dec 2008, 18:09, closed)

Huh?
How can a diamond bracelet play tennis?
(powervator and NONE SHALL PASS, Thu 4 Dec 2008, 18:26, closed)