Going to Brussels Grill for my customarily gorgeous steak (though the salad disappointed me, just a massive pile of bland lettuce leaves) BEFORE Fifth Avenue was a success—it meant I could drink and drink as much as I liked in Fifth without being desperate to get away to eat. Inna was there looking as sexy as ever, and Emily again in TINY little red cardigan top which left all her midriff bare, tiny denim shorts over black patterned stockings. Very very affecting. Especially when she sat in the chair facing me a few feet away with her knees drawn up to her chest, giving me an unbelievably tempting view of her groin area. Again, though, she left just after 4 o’clock and temptation was once more withdrawn. Apart that the blonde Perrie Edwards girl came in; like slim Emily even she has put on a LITTLE bit of weight, to make her slightly more tempting, but still not enough I think. And that was really it. After Fifth I returned briefly to Cine Paris then had a McDonald’s before bed and my McDonald’s receipt has a time of 545PM which suggests I left Fifth around 5, again far too early on a Saturday afternoon to stand much chance of seeing any big hitters who probably don’t turn up till 7 or 8. I had a feeling I caught a glimpse of Leyla arriving at the back, but she then kept out of sight avoiding me, no doubt. I do not blame her. I would avoid myself if I could. So that was it. I woke five past midnight, tried to force myself out to Empire but my body just would not move so that was my Saturday over and done with.
Something I’ve not remarked upon (at all or enough) is how Brussels Grill give you COMPLIMENTARY bread & butter while waiting for your steak. Massively appreciated, and makes a massive difference in my choice of where to eat after a day of customarily “cultural” activities. Who knows when I will be back in Brussels Grill again. In Fifth Avenue today I had NO DESIRE for sex. At all. Just thinking about food. I get food at home, so why travel? A troubling question, which comes into greater focus now than it has ever done. Five nights in Brussels—no sex at all. Scarcely any desire for it either. I have started asking for my steak “medium” rather than “well done”, only to get it delivered to me faster. 1815.