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.