What was I thinking? I mean really, what on earth did I think was going to happen? That somehow getting involved with several men at once wouldn't end in tears and would in fact result in everlasting happiness? With the benefit of hindsight it's laughable that I could have been such a twat for so long.
The weekend was every bit as depressing as I thought it would be. I was angry and upset and I didn't really do anything except get my hair cut and eat my body weight in Phish Food. However I came out of it with the realisation that I deserve everything I get. If I mess around and choose to sleep with whoever then I must expect emotions to eventually get tangled up. It's not true of all women of course, I don't subscribe to the theory that all women are unable to separate love from sex but I know that with me it's only a matter of time. Two or three sessions, I'm detached. Any more than that though and apparently I start to yearn. Still, at least I've learnt my limits although frankly I feel like steering well clear of it all for a while.
Having said that though, I've had some truly lovely emails from N while he's been travelling. He's still got around 8 weeks to go which is a shame as I'm finding I'm really missing him. I've spent a long time trying to ascertain whether I miss him because I'm hurt and need the comfort or whether I actually like him. At the moment I'm pretty sure it's the latter but I guess this will become more evident in time. It's just refreshing how honest he is about how he's been feeling and how much he's been thinking about me. I'm touched that in just two weeks together I seem to have had such an impact. He managed to get under my skin too though. I cried the last time I saw him (although he doesn't know this) and found I was extremely melancholy at the thought of possibly never seeing him again, although if the email contact keeps up to this degree it's highly likely I will.
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
Friday, May 25, 2007
Mug
There is a moment of clarity that, when you experience it, leaves you reeling. I had that moment this week.
On Sunday night, J (the ahem...model) took me for drinks and with his best sincere face on, told me he wanted to start seeing me properly. He told me that it wasn't all about sex, that he liked me for me, that I was special and that he even wanted to accompany me to my friends wedding in June. Finally, after weeks of ignoring his comments about the issue, I started to succumb. I actually started to wonder whether I could make it work. I talked to my friends about it, I asked opinions and relayed snippets of conversation and allt agreed he sounded sincere.
On Wednesday night, at his request, he came back. He was late. He didn't want to eat because he wasn't hungry so neither did I. He bought a DVD but fell asleep 10 minutes in. He fucked me but only he came. He told me all about this girl he could have shagged that day at the gym. The following morning, despite telling me on Sunday he'd see me this weekend, he relayed a catalogue of commitments all involving female models and booze. When I said 'But you told me you were free this weekend', he said 'Did I?' He left while I stood, dizzy from the realisation that I'd been utterly suckered. Comments on his myspace page and ones that he's left on others have confirmed my suspicions. Obviously I wasn't only sleeping with him but I didn't say one way or the other. He on the other hand, promised fidelity (even though I didn't ask for it) and yet deceived me at every stage.
I am trying not to be sad and feel foolish but I do, I really do. I have been a fool and now I have a bank holiday weekend stretching in front of me with my flatmate away and not a single plan to occupy me, bar getting my hair done. I know what will happen and I'm dreading it. I will wallow. I will cry. I will mourn the loss of yet another shred of dignity and I will lament my advancing years and the fact that I am still, despite all my efforts, single. Yes, it's melodramatic and I will probably read this back in a few days and laugh at my melancholy hyperbole but right now? Right now I can't decide whether to bawl my eyes out or find the nearest man and punch his face in.
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
Huh?
I am lucky enough to work for a company that not only lets you wear your own clothes every day, as opposed to those of a Jaded Wage Slave but also allows you to listen to the radio at your desk. I tend to believe, quite cynically, that it's more based around wanting us to spend more time at the aforementioned desks than to kid us into thinking we're at the very hub of workplace cool. However those are the sorts of musings that lead you to carve your way out of the office with a paper knife and into forensic history.
It is my choice to listen to Kiss FM which I realise many find wholly offensive, so I do so discreetly through my pink earphones. I happily tap away with a joyous mixture of hip hop/dance/r'n'b filtering into my brain and providing a happy soundtrack to my otherwise lacklustre days (modular office furniture is marginally less depressing to look at with Beyoncé warbling away). However, due to the inability of Kiss to play anything other than the same 25 songs in differing order throughout each show, some of the more ludicrously-lyriced numbers have got under my skin and made me ask 'Why should it possible to make a record that consists solely of faux-street nonsense?'
Case in point: Current 'hit' Da* Bump by Mr V and Miss Patty. Here is a sample of the lyrics:
This is the way we move it, This is the way we party, Da da dibidi bump bump, Da da dibidi bump bump, This is the way we feel it, This is the way we started, With a da da dibidi bump bump, Da da dibidi bump bump, This is the way we move it, This is the way we party, Da da dibidi bump bump, Da da dibidi bump bump, This is the way we feel it, This is the way we started, Da da dibidi bump bump, Da da dibidi bump bump,
It's not the most inspiring start to a song is it? One might be fooled into thinking perhaps they were just using a ghetto variation of vocal warm up exercises (me me me becomes yo yo mo fo). Let's give them a chance to redeem themselves for the superlative Miss Patty's section of the song. Here she is then:
Shake what'cha momma gave ya, Shake what'cha momma gave ya, Da da dibidi bump bump, Da da dibidi bump bump, Wave your hands in the air, Wave'em like you just don't care, Da da dibidi bump bump, Da da dibidi bump bump, Sisters in the house tonite, Let me know you feel alright, Da da dibidi bump bump, Da da dibidi bump bump, Let me hear ya'll scream, Fellas you know what I mean, Da da dibidi bump bump, Da da dibidi bump bump, We all come down to the club, To get loose and have some fun, Da da dibidi bump bump, Da da dibidi bump bump, Pass the dutchie to the left hand side
Now, I realise they're not the first 'artists' to write fairly nonsensical lyrics, after all one can't fail to remember Des O'Connor's classic hit 'Dick a Dum Dum' or Abba's haunting track 'Dum Dum Diddle (my darling fiddle)'. It's just that somehow these early efforts have the veneer of innocence. In today's exceedingly verbal world, shouldn't it be easier to come up with a really awe inspiring hook for a song without resorting to the babblings of a drunk teenage girl in a bus station? Oh, and don't get me started on their shameless pillaging of the classic Musical Youth in that last line. Step away from the dutchie Miss Patty.
Also, when did it become cool to employ session chipmunks to give an edge to your efforts? First the laughably un-convict like Akon with 'Lonely' and now Mr V and Miss Patty have got da 'munk on board for Da Bump. Who is this chipmunk? Is he to become the next Ja Rule, popping up in guest spots on every new release to catastrophically ruin it (I think Mr V was doing pretty well on that front by himself).
Of course there is the argument, as Salt N Pepa took the trouble to remind us, to 'pick up the needle, press pause or turn the radio off' (name that song) but I like most of the other offerings from Radio Smooch, I really do. I even don't mind Sean Paul, the Grand Master of unintelligible lyrics but I've nothing against an honest dancehall effort, it's a different genre entirely. My only recourse is to simply persevere with songs such as 'Da Bump' and Dada's 'Lollipop' (I'll lick your ice cream, you can lick my lollipop' - oh can I? thanks awfully) and wait for the good shit in between. The Kisstory hour (see what they did?) is pretty good although like the albums entitled 'Old Skool', 'Back in the Day' and 'Now Time to Look Into a Pension' it does tend to make me feel the wrong side of young.
*Street for 'the', apparently
It is my choice to listen to Kiss FM which I realise many find wholly offensive, so I do so discreetly through my pink earphones. I happily tap away with a joyous mixture of hip hop/dance/r'n'b filtering into my brain and providing a happy soundtrack to my otherwise lacklustre days (modular office furniture is marginally less depressing to look at with Beyoncé warbling away). However, due to the inability of Kiss to play anything other than the same 25 songs in differing order throughout each show, some of the more ludicrously-lyriced numbers have got under my skin and made me ask 'Why should it possible to make a record that consists solely of faux-street nonsense?'
Case in point: Current 'hit' Da* Bump by Mr V and Miss Patty. Here is a sample of the lyrics:
This is the way we move it, This is the way we party, Da da dibidi bump bump, Da da dibidi bump bump, This is the way we feel it, This is the way we started, With a da da dibidi bump bump, Da da dibidi bump bump, This is the way we move it, This is the way we party, Da da dibidi bump bump, Da da dibidi bump bump, This is the way we feel it, This is the way we started, Da da dibidi bump bump, Da da dibidi bump bump,
It's not the most inspiring start to a song is it? One might be fooled into thinking perhaps they were just using a ghetto variation of vocal warm up exercises (me me me becomes yo yo mo fo). Let's give them a chance to redeem themselves for the superlative Miss Patty's section of the song. Here she is then:
Shake what'cha momma gave ya, Shake what'cha momma gave ya, Da da dibidi bump bump, Da da dibidi bump bump, Wave your hands in the air, Wave'em like you just don't care, Da da dibidi bump bump, Da da dibidi bump bump, Sisters in the house tonite, Let me know you feel alright, Da da dibidi bump bump, Da da dibidi bump bump, Let me hear ya'll scream, Fellas you know what I mean, Da da dibidi bump bump, Da da dibidi bump bump, We all come down to the club, To get loose and have some fun, Da da dibidi bump bump, Da da dibidi bump bump, Pass the dutchie to the left hand side
Now, I realise they're not the first 'artists' to write fairly nonsensical lyrics, after all one can't fail to remember Des O'Connor's classic hit 'Dick a Dum Dum' or Abba's haunting track 'Dum Dum Diddle (my darling fiddle)'. It's just that somehow these early efforts have the veneer of innocence. In today's exceedingly verbal world, shouldn't it be easier to come up with a really awe inspiring hook for a song without resorting to the babblings of a drunk teenage girl in a bus station? Oh, and don't get me started on their shameless pillaging of the classic Musical Youth in that last line. Step away from the dutchie Miss Patty.
Also, when did it become cool to employ session chipmunks to give an edge to your efforts? First the laughably un-convict like Akon with 'Lonely' and now Mr V and Miss Patty have got da 'munk on board for Da Bump. Who is this chipmunk? Is he to become the next Ja Rule, popping up in guest spots on every new release to catastrophically ruin it (I think Mr V was doing pretty well on that front by himself).
Of course there is the argument, as Salt N Pepa took the trouble to remind us, to 'pick up the needle, press pause or turn the radio off' (name that song) but I like most of the other offerings from Radio Smooch, I really do. I even don't mind Sean Paul, the Grand Master of unintelligible lyrics but I've nothing against an honest dancehall effort, it's a different genre entirely. My only recourse is to simply persevere with songs such as 'Da Bump' and Dada's 'Lollipop' (I'll lick your ice cream, you can lick my lollipop' - oh can I? thanks awfully) and wait for the good shit in between. The Kisstory hour (see what they did?) is pretty good although like the albums entitled 'Old Skool', 'Back in the Day' and 'Now Time to Look Into a Pension' it does tend to make me feel the wrong side of young.
*Street for 'the', apparently
Thursday, May 17, 2007
Jumping the gun?
Well it appears I may have been slightly premature in writing off the men in my life. N has so far been travelling for 6 days and has already emailed me 3 times. From the tone of the emails I can tell he's happier and calmer for getting out of London and getting some head space. He has told me he's missing London and me but I think that's just early days talking. I'm sure once he gets into the swing of travelling solo again and embraces his situation that will wear off. I have found that I've thought about him every day and have been delighted when his emails have appeared. I don't yet know whether this is due to him not having been gone a week yet and whether the feelings will fade. He's going to be out there for at least another 11 weeks as it is. For now though I hope he stays in touch. He almost feels like a departed lover that I am waiting at home for which is nonsense really but strikes a chord with a terminal romantic like me. A told me jokingly she thinks I'll end up marrying him (another terminal romantic) and, idiot that I am, I started daydreaming about it. Talk about impressionable.
J has also been back on the scene. He called me out of the blue from a day-long modelling assignment at the weekend to chat and tell me he'd been thinking about me in his more idle hours. On Monday he emailed me to say that although he was surrounded by pretty girls the whole time (thanks for that), 'they were muppets and it really made me appreciate you, you're really special to me.' I still have no idea what's going on but for now it's definitely just sex. The dom/sub conversations have started again and for our rendezvous tonight he's apparently bringing handcuffs and is going to 'play' because he feels I'm ready. I'm slightly apprehensive but I haven't had sex for two weeks and quite frankly I'm gagging so I'll go along with whatever.
L is the only one that really does seem to have fallen off the radar which is a great shame. I didn't hear from him all weekend and lasted until 4pm on Monday when I emailed him in an exceedingly breezy tone to ask how he weekend was and what he was up to this week. I received an email back with a detailed itinerary of all his activities which take up every night of the week with no suggestion of us getting together ever again. He may as well have just said 'I don't want to see you' but clearly that's impolite, exceedingly unBritish and not part of the rules. We exchanged a couple of matey emails but that was three days ago and I've heard nothing since. I can't work out whether his silence is due to him worrying about something personal he told me last week and perhaps my reaction to it. In which case it's up to me to contact him to offer (mute) reassurance that I'm not bothered and would like to see him. However perhaps I did something or said something to put him off the last time we met but I've been replaying the whole evening and for the life of me I can't imagine what it might have been. Finally though, perhaps he's just lost interest. One thing I've learnt about men (and myself) since I started this voracious dating is that impulses, desires and apparently genuine feelings can disappear as quickly as they arrive. It's finding the ones with staying power that's the challenge. The search continues...
J has also been back on the scene. He called me out of the blue from a day-long modelling assignment at the weekend to chat and tell me he'd been thinking about me in his more idle hours. On Monday he emailed me to say that although he was surrounded by pretty girls the whole time (thanks for that), 'they were muppets and it really made me appreciate you, you're really special to me.' I still have no idea what's going on but for now it's definitely just sex. The dom/sub conversations have started again and for our rendezvous tonight he's apparently bringing handcuffs and is going to 'play' because he feels I'm ready. I'm slightly apprehensive but I haven't had sex for two weeks and quite frankly I'm gagging so I'll go along with whatever.
L is the only one that really does seem to have fallen off the radar which is a great shame. I didn't hear from him all weekend and lasted until 4pm on Monday when I emailed him in an exceedingly breezy tone to ask how he weekend was and what he was up to this week. I received an email back with a detailed itinerary of all his activities which take up every night of the week with no suggestion of us getting together ever again. He may as well have just said 'I don't want to see you' but clearly that's impolite, exceedingly unBritish and not part of the rules. We exchanged a couple of matey emails but that was three days ago and I've heard nothing since. I can't work out whether his silence is due to him worrying about something personal he told me last week and perhaps my reaction to it. In which case it's up to me to contact him to offer (mute) reassurance that I'm not bothered and would like to see him. However perhaps I did something or said something to put him off the last time we met but I've been replaying the whole evening and for the life of me I can't imagine what it might have been. Finally though, perhaps he's just lost interest. One thing I've learnt about men (and myself) since I started this voracious dating is that impulses, desires and apparently genuine feelings can disappear as quickly as they arrive. It's finding the ones with staying power that's the challenge. The search continues...
Saturday, May 12, 2007
...Comes Around
From having to worry about how to accommodate three men in my life, it would now appear I have to worry about none. Is this karmic retribution for my excessive sluttishness of late (two men in my bed in one weekend...three in one week...??). If history (and Hollywood) teaches us nothing else it's that naughty behaviour will always be rewarded with a MAJOR buzzkill. OK so I'm hardly Alan Rickman in that Die Hard film but you get the point.
N has gone travelling following two weeks of constant texting and three sessions of very hot sex with one last meeting of surprising tenderness. I went to his flat in St James Park the night before the night before he left and he cooked. I met his flatmates and felt oddly like his girlfriend. I found myself getting quite lumpy-throated at the prospect of this man I'd known for a mere fortnight, skipping the country for three months. We've promised to email and if I'm single when he's back and he's still into me...well who knows? I had half a bottle of wine that night and so wasn't drunk, yet when he left me at the tube I found myself blinded by tears which shocked me. He very much got under my skin and I'm already having to resist emailing him.
J has slowly gone quiet. I was supposed to see him last Sunday but I blew him out in favour of L who at the time I thought was a better investment. Instead J came over after I got home from my friend's birthday party on the Saturday night around 1am and stayed the night. I was on so nothing happened but it was lovely to see him. I was supposed to see him Friday night but have been dragged back to suburbia for bridesmaid duties and family devotion so had to blow him out again. I think that was the last straw for him because he's since not replied to my text message and seems to have lost interest. This is a shame because although I know he was wrong for me, I enjoyed his company very much and found him so exciting. I don't know that the door is fully closed but it feels that way from this side.
I met L that Sunday and we had a lovely, giggly, mutually hungover date. We went back to mine for DVDs and a take away and he stayed the night (same weekend obviously so still on - bad timing all round really). We fooled around A LOT which was totally hot. I've always had a thing for guys with long hair but never been with one before. I was right to fantasise - it just does things to me! He left at lunchtime on Bank Holiday Monday and I went out and got absolutely wasted with flatmate A and ended up puking all over our bathroom floor which made me feel shocking and very, very ashamed.
Thursday night I met up with L and his best mate for drinks. I played it so well - the friend and I were laughing and joking together after an hour which I think L was happy about. The friend left and suddenly L and I were kissing (I think I started it but I was quite drunk at the time). Suddenly L started to tell me why he couldn't sleep with me that night. There was a very good reason which I'm not going into here but suffice to say it bought us right back down to earth and although we kissed at the tube it was awkward to say the least. He emailed me the following morning to apologise for the headwreck of the night before and we emailed a bit that day but they were matey emails not really going anywhere and they smacked of 'I just want to be friends.' He seemed to go from majorly effusive to evasive and non-committal within a week and I was left wondering what the hell happened. I will wait to see whether he contacts me again but I'm trying not to care.
I've just logged into the dating website for the first time in 3 weeks...just to see what's going on. It would appear that without the prospect male attention I now panic. This is both sad and desperate so maybe that's what they can all smell on me. Perhaps I need to give it all a rest - I don't think I'm in the right frame of mind any more. Spending the weekend discussing weddings and making placeholders out of sprigs of lavender has definitely not helped.
N has gone travelling following two weeks of constant texting and three sessions of very hot sex with one last meeting of surprising tenderness. I went to his flat in St James Park the night before the night before he left and he cooked. I met his flatmates and felt oddly like his girlfriend. I found myself getting quite lumpy-throated at the prospect of this man I'd known for a mere fortnight, skipping the country for three months. We've promised to email and if I'm single when he's back and he's still into me...well who knows? I had half a bottle of wine that night and so wasn't drunk, yet when he left me at the tube I found myself blinded by tears which shocked me. He very much got under my skin and I'm already having to resist emailing him.
J has slowly gone quiet. I was supposed to see him last Sunday but I blew him out in favour of L who at the time I thought was a better investment. Instead J came over after I got home from my friend's birthday party on the Saturday night around 1am and stayed the night. I was on so nothing happened but it was lovely to see him. I was supposed to see him Friday night but have been dragged back to suburbia for bridesmaid duties and family devotion so had to blow him out again. I think that was the last straw for him because he's since not replied to my text message and seems to have lost interest. This is a shame because although I know he was wrong for me, I enjoyed his company very much and found him so exciting. I don't know that the door is fully closed but it feels that way from this side.
I met L that Sunday and we had a lovely, giggly, mutually hungover date. We went back to mine for DVDs and a take away and he stayed the night (same weekend obviously so still on - bad timing all round really). We fooled around A LOT which was totally hot. I've always had a thing for guys with long hair but never been with one before. I was right to fantasise - it just does things to me! He left at lunchtime on Bank Holiday Monday and I went out and got absolutely wasted with flatmate A and ended up puking all over our bathroom floor which made me feel shocking and very, very ashamed.
Thursday night I met up with L and his best mate for drinks. I played it so well - the friend and I were laughing and joking together after an hour which I think L was happy about. The friend left and suddenly L and I were kissing (I think I started it but I was quite drunk at the time). Suddenly L started to tell me why he couldn't sleep with me that night. There was a very good reason which I'm not going into here but suffice to say it bought us right back down to earth and although we kissed at the tube it was awkward to say the least. He emailed me the following morning to apologise for the headwreck of the night before and we emailed a bit that day but they were matey emails not really going anywhere and they smacked of 'I just want to be friends.' He seemed to go from majorly effusive to evasive and non-committal within a week and I was left wondering what the hell happened. I will wait to see whether he contacts me again but I'm trying not to care.
I've just logged into the dating website for the first time in 3 weeks...just to see what's going on. It would appear that without the prospect male attention I now panic. This is both sad and desperate so maybe that's what they can all smell on me. Perhaps I need to give it all a rest - I don't think I'm in the right frame of mind any more. Spending the weekend discussing weddings and making placeholders out of sprigs of lavender has definitely not helped.
Thursday, May 03, 2007
Casual?
I offloaded the armful of gleefully-priced H&M specials I was holding onto a nearby rack and scrabbled about in my bag for my ringing phone. To my surprise it was J (model/porn star/young 'un). This was surprising given that he is currently 'on it' in Tenerife with his best friend and partner in crime. The first thing I asked was why on earth he was phoning me (possibly not the sweetest sentiment but the only thing I could think). Apparently he'd spent the day on the beach and while lazing about had been thinking about me and really wanted to talk to me. I was stunned. This is the guy who has been all about the 'filthy fucking' (his words) and who actually answered the phone at 9am the Sunday morning he stayed at mine to a football buddy and said loudly 'Nah not today mate, I'm balls-deep in some gorgeous bird'. Yet here he was being all thoughtful and sentimental. We're not even going out with each other, not really.
He told me he'd set his mate up with a couple of girls and that one of the chicks on the beach really fancied him but that he wasn't really interested. I can genuinely say I wouldn't be bothered if he did score whilst over there because let's face it, I've hardly been Little Miss Innocent have I? However he was at great pains to reassure me that this wasn't what he wanted from his time in the sun. It confused me because I do have a teeny crush on him, even though he is Captain Unsuitable but I'd managed to squash it a bit with him out of the country only to have him sweetly ring me and throw me right back into it. I woke up the following morning to a text from him, sent at 3am UK time that said:
"I don't want the sexiest girl...I want the one that likes me as I am."
First of all, he was clearly twatted when he sent that and I'll wager, has been kicking himself for it and secondly, talk about a back handed compliment! So I'm not sexy am I? I just adore you and that's all that matters. That served to bring me slightly back down to earth at least by making me feel slightly frumpy and desperate. As though I'm some safe, squashy bean bag he can collapse onto when the sleek Eames leather chair is just too streamlined to be comfortable.
I'm seeing N from the party again tonight but I know for sure this has a shelf life as he leaves the country for three months next week. He is a blissfully good shag though so I'm happy to dally (is that a word?) while he's here. He's been texting me every day since the party and seems very keen considering we both know this is casual. As mentioned, he's hinted he'd like to stay in touch and catch up when he gets back but we shall see.
I had a date with another guy from myspace on Tuesday night. We'd been emailing for about a week and getting on very well. He's not my usual type really. He's a long-haired, scruffy, muso/indie boy who is 33 but is clearly stuck around the age of 27. On the other hand he is completely gorgeous, very funny and extremely interesting company. We had a great time and a very exciting kiss at the bus stop on the Wandsworth Bridge Road that made me feel about 14 again. We've been emailing ever since and I'm supposed to be seeing him on Sunday. I don't want to put all my energies into one person at the moment, given my recent lack of judgement but at the same time I'd really like to slow down a little and get to know him. He seems keen to do the same although for all I know it could just be that he wants to hit it and quit it. Who knows? I'll give him the benefit of the doubt but he is a bloke after all.
My flatmate A finished with her boyfriend this week and has been understandably low. We both have extremely busy bank holidays coming up but are making time to see each other on Monday for lunch and drinks. It's funny how you can live with someone and hardly ever see them but we get on well so it should be nice. I have the day off work tomorrow but the bank wants to see me. Apparently I have a great credit rating and they want to do nice things with interest rates for me. Frankly, given the amount of debt I'm in I should imagine it's a cheap ploy to get me through the door so they can wrestle my cards off me and poke me with sharp things for being so utterly rubbish with money.
He told me he'd set his mate up with a couple of girls and that one of the chicks on the beach really fancied him but that he wasn't really interested. I can genuinely say I wouldn't be bothered if he did score whilst over there because let's face it, I've hardly been Little Miss Innocent have I? However he was at great pains to reassure me that this wasn't what he wanted from his time in the sun. It confused me because I do have a teeny crush on him, even though he is Captain Unsuitable but I'd managed to squash it a bit with him out of the country only to have him sweetly ring me and throw me right back into it. I woke up the following morning to a text from him, sent at 3am UK time that said:
"I don't want the sexiest girl...I want the one that likes me as I am."
First of all, he was clearly twatted when he sent that and I'll wager, has been kicking himself for it and secondly, talk about a back handed compliment! So I'm not sexy am I? I just adore you and that's all that matters. That served to bring me slightly back down to earth at least by making me feel slightly frumpy and desperate. As though I'm some safe, squashy bean bag he can collapse onto when the sleek Eames leather chair is just too streamlined to be comfortable.
I'm seeing N from the party again tonight but I know for sure this has a shelf life as he leaves the country for three months next week. He is a blissfully good shag though so I'm happy to dally (is that a word?) while he's here. He's been texting me every day since the party and seems very keen considering we both know this is casual. As mentioned, he's hinted he'd like to stay in touch and catch up when he gets back but we shall see.
I had a date with another guy from myspace on Tuesday night. We'd been emailing for about a week and getting on very well. He's not my usual type really. He's a long-haired, scruffy, muso/indie boy who is 33 but is clearly stuck around the age of 27. On the other hand he is completely gorgeous, very funny and extremely interesting company. We had a great time and a very exciting kiss at the bus stop on the Wandsworth Bridge Road that made me feel about 14 again. We've been emailing ever since and I'm supposed to be seeing him on Sunday. I don't want to put all my energies into one person at the moment, given my recent lack of judgement but at the same time I'd really like to slow down a little and get to know him. He seems keen to do the same although for all I know it could just be that he wants to hit it and quit it. Who knows? I'll give him the benefit of the doubt but he is a bloke after all.
My flatmate A finished with her boyfriend this week and has been understandably low. We both have extremely busy bank holidays coming up but are making time to see each other on Monday for lunch and drinks. It's funny how you can live with someone and hardly ever see them but we get on well so it should be nice. I have the day off work tomorrow but the bank wants to see me. Apparently I have a great credit rating and they want to do nice things with interest rates for me. Frankly, given the amount of debt I'm in I should imagine it's a cheap ploy to get me through the door so they can wrestle my cards off me and poke me with sharp things for being so utterly rubbish with money.
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