Being A Sentimental Fuck (Bear With)

It's the last day of 2014 and it's a bit weird. I feel like so much has happened this year but it's all gone by in a blur. So I thought I'd get all sentimental and look back at all the shit that's gone down.

In list form (bloody love lists):

• 1 blog started
• 1 flat acquired
• 2 cardboard men purchased and standing in aforementioned flat's kitchen
• 4 men (debatable) slept with
• 1 boyfriend had
• 1 boyfriend lost
• 3 trips abroad
• 3 different hair colours worn
• 1 university year over
• 1 university year started
• 1 job lost
• 1 job gained

There's actually a few things I'd like to look at in a bit more depth (my blog, my rules).

This whole year has been a year of trying to find myself. I know, I'm as grossed out by that as you probably are. It's very Eat Pray Love of me and for that I apologise. But I started this blog with the intention of sorting some things out in my mind. I thought that, if I put them down into words (which is what I do best), then I could clear out a bit of space in my head. And you know what? It's really helped. 

It's helped me be truthful about how I feel about the men flitting about my year:

I had the rose coloured glasses snatched off my face by TGI in May. And I'm quite proud to say that, after a minor fallback in September, I have not seen him since nor have I had the desire to see him. He was good for me at the time and I don't mind that what happened... Happened. And despite everything, he is a genuinely decent guy at heart. I just hope he starts to show that sooner rather than later.

Around the same time, I started an actual relationship with Troy. I had a legitimate boyfriend for about 2 months... And I realised that I wasn't cut out for it at the moment. At least not with a man I had zero sexual attraction for. But bless him, he remained sweet to me until the very end. Even after I was a world class dick to him. Troy is a lovely, lovely man and I really hope he finds someone who will appreciate that a whole lot more than I did. That was not a good moment - realising just how much of a manipulative arsewank I was. 

Sidebar: Isn't 'arsewank' the greatest? My gorgeous girlyfriends and I think we made it up last night. I feel we should be knighted or something for our contribution to humankind.

Then, we reach LB. Are you tired of hearing about him yet? To be quite honest, I'm a little bit tired of writing about him. He broke my heart when I never wanted anything to do with him. I suppose sometimes you just can't control who your heart decides to fall for. As gross as that sounds, I do kinda get what they talk about in the books and the films. Heartbreak - in my case, coming from something unrequited - is shit. But in a way, I'm pleased it happened. Just like I'm pleased TGI happened and, to a lesser extent, Troy. It showed me that I actually could feel something for someone. Something I had, quite honestly, dismissed as gross and stupid. But hey, here's to a 2015 with (little to) no mention of LB.

And finally, someone that I am not pleased happened. My 'fairytale' with Tall Australian/South African. Let's just move on from that. Quite frankly, my lower body does not want to remember that.

But you all know about that. You've read about my man dilemmas and have been very helpful and kind about it. I mean, fuck, I never thought I'd have even one reader! So - only because I'm feeling all sentimental - I want to say thank you. Thank you for listening and being there for me - even from computers from miles and miles away - because the comments you leave really cheer me up. They honestly do.

So here's to 2015. Happy New Year you gorgeous fucks xoxo

Merry Christmas, Fuckers

A very short post today as have a train to catch in 2 hours and have neither packed nor cleaned the flat. Aberdeen's done something to me, you know. I never used to be like this. I used to be all set and ready to go, days in advance (ish). Well I'm now embracing the haphazard/headless chicken aspect of my life.

Anyway anyway anyway, must dash (dahling). I'll not be posting again until into the New Year as not taking my laptop with me when I go home for Christmas. I shall love you and leave you till then.

xoxo

Jackhammering And Otters

Oh Tall Australian, you had such potential. It's such a shame you turned into a weird-ass motherfucker.

I may be slightly late in writing this as have been very busy and important not doing anything. Oh, breaking my bed. Yes I was very busy breaking my bed. Not in that way, dirty sods. No, I sat on it. And it broke. I feel that something is telling me to lose weight... I am currently sleeping on a mattress on the floor which is rather comfy but I know it can't last. I'll revert into my 80 year old tendencies and my back will hurt every time I get up in the morning. I'll start walking about with one hand in the small of my back and yell at small children if they cross my path. Basically I've bought another bed to avoid said scenario.

But on the subject of beds - Tall Australian.

So I got rather drunk last Friday night... Not horribly drunk to have no idea what I was doing but drunk enough to not realise what bad choices were. Or realising and being too drunk to care. Anyway, I went round to Tall Australians. Or rather, I texted him and he came and drove me to his. That was a bit weird. I mean, it was past midnight and he was already in bed. He actually got out of bed and got dressed to come and take drunk me from my house back to his. It was weird.

Anyway, I slept with him (obviously because I am always a drunk slut) and that was also weird. Not to be too graphic but you know those big pneumatic drills that men in hi-vis neon jackets use on roads...? I felt like I was the road.

I wish I was exaggerating. But this is pretty much an accurate depiction. 

Now this is not referring to size. Rather... Strength. It was bloody exhausting getting - for want of a better word - jackhammered. And he woke me up for a second time. I'm sorry gentlemen but that is not on. Not. On. I need my beauty sleep - which you should be very respectful of considering you've got to wake up next to my face.

So yes, after the drilling episode (it's how I imagine a blow up sex doll feels) I decided to end it. Not just the drilling. He was also just weird. I can't quite put my finger on it but something about him was off. So despite the shit tonne of stars, I'm going with my gut instinct instead.

On to more fun things - I successfully managed to text flirt yesterday. I don't know how you lot on Tinder and the likes manage it. I am not really a flirty person. Well, I can do eye flirting and like, teasing kind of flirting in person. But over text? Nah. But somehow I vaguely managed to text flirt with Slains Dinosaur. About my broken bed. Naturally.

Also I got drunk last night - as per usual - and ended up messaging LB at 3am. I know, I know, save your judgey judgeyness for later. But it wasn't a message of undying love or anything weird. No, it was about otters. And it turned out that he was online and more than happy to discuss otters and the otter kingdom in general. I think it's quite rare to be able to message someone like LB completely out of the blue about otters and get this message as part of the conversation:

I'll try my best, you are kinda enemy no1 though, right beside that guy who breaks otter dams

Anyway, I'm being good and just leaving it at that. Really. Because I never wanted all this to get as complex as it did and am damn sure it won't again. Ha. Damn sure. Like a dam. Otters. Right? Right?!

Comical genius right here.

My First Date

I very much feel like a Primary School 8 year old writing about her first trip to the zoo or something. But yes, this was technically My First Date.

I obviously spent ages getting ready. This was Tall Australian, of course. He picked me up in his car - a cute banged up old thing he'd gotten for £600 a few months before - and we drove to the beach. I'd like to take this opportunity to say that a weird turn on of mine is a man driving. I don't know whether it's the manly hands on the steering wheel or the control of the car... I don't know. But I go for it.

So we got to the beach and it's rather bloody chilly but the moon's out doing its thing and there's stars and shit (!!!) and the boats are being boats and stuff and we walked along and talked. Then we went back to his car, talked some more as we drove to a pub near the beach and went and got a drink and talked even more.

And it wasn't awkward. It was maybe slightly nervous at times but never awkward. We'd bantered (hate that word with a vengeance) over text and apparently that had surprised him. Obviously in the shop I try to remain as professional (ha) as possible but even in normal everyday life, I'd never seen myself as someone who could banter. It's usually me being sarcastic and constantly raising an eyebrow but maybe that's a thing? Either way, it felt like we had similar personalities which is always a plus.

But here come the points that got me:

1. He's 32.

As Sophie said, I just can't seem to get over that age. Oldest guy I've ever made out with was 32. Thought I'd beaten my record when I made out with a randomer on the street one drunken Saturday night but he was also 32. I get competitive, sometimes I want to beat my personal best.. Anyway, I asked him how old he was (not completely out of the blue, I do have some tact) and he asked me to guess. Which threw me a bit - that's usually my line. So I guessed 30 which seemed a safe bet. Then he asked how old I was. I repeated his question and he said he thought I was 21/22. So yes, I lied and told him I was 20. Hey, only 11 months away. A teeny white lie. And I mean, it's not like we're going to get married or something, it's highly unlikely he'll find out.

2. He smokes.

This came as a surprise. I don't honestly know many smokers and I suppose now, you don't really see them in pubs any more so you don't notice when someone smokes. But although he tried to counter the fact by saying it wasn't like he was a chain smoker or anything - only had about 5 or 6 a day - it still seemed like a lot to me. But then again, I am an innocent non smoker so what do I know. it doesn't really change much but I think I'd have a different opinion if I kissed him. Kissing smokers is most definitely not my favourite thing.

3. He's done so much shit in his life.

So yes, he's South African which is cool in its own right because... Well, it's not the UK. But he lived in Australia for a year and worked on a cattle ranch, he lived in London for 7 years and spent all his time off travelling about to go surfing on the coasts of Italy and Spain and snowboarding in the Alps. He lived on a boat in Bali for a while and has been to Indonesia 3 times.... Basically, to a homebody like me, it sounded like a crazy adventure. I mean, it's not just sitting at home, drinking tea and watching your life tick by, is it? And so I felt myself trying to compete (my bloody competitiveness...) by conjuring up vague stories about when I went to Marrakesh when I was 10 and when I canoed across Scotland when I was 14 and how I used to go on road trips with my dad in his home-made campervan... I felt like I had done fuck all - and do fuck all currently. He asked me about my hobbies and all I could come up with was a vague mumble about having done drama back in Oban. I felt ridiculous. 

4. He reminds me slightly of my dad.

Not in a weird, creepy way. Not in his mannerisms or looks or anything. But I think in his need for travel. And exercise. And sort of his outlook on life. Only a tiny bit. But enough that it was noticeable. I'm not weirded out by this - I think it's quite nice actually because I was recently thinking about how I shouldn't have taken it all for granted - all the road trips we did around Europe. I realise how lucky I was and although I was a stroppy teenager at the time, I should've embraced it a bit more. Unfortunately I may be too stubborn to ever tell my dad this. Don't blame me, I inherited it from him. It also reminded me of my dad constantly telling me whenever I would complain about having to go canoeing or walk up a hill, that one day I was going to get a boyfriend who was into all this stuff and I would willingly do it with him. Obviously this boyfriend will not be Tall Australian but you get the idea. What's weird is that now; it makes sense.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that he made me look at myself in a new way, a different way. I know there's the 13 year age gap so obviously he's had more time than me to do shit. But I feel a bit like I shouldn't be just sitting on my sofa with a glass of wine, typing this up into a corner of the internet that only a few people read. I feel that I should be out experiencing the world and sat in the desert, writing this out on a faded notepad to type it up into a corner of the internet once I got home. But how do I go about this? I'm at university with a part time job. The two pretty much take up my whole life. I also most definitely feel I should be doing more exercise. In a way, he made me feel bad about myself. Not intentionally, of course, but it was like, I couldn't believe I was sitting with this man who had done so much and just lived his life to the fullest whenever he could. 

According to him, what first attracted him was my height. He is 6'4". Again, I'm doing well with the never-being-with-a-guy-shorter-than-me thing. Aren't I a shallow fuck. The next thing was the fact I didn't have an Aberdonian accent. Or look like one the Aberdonian girls who were out looking for a rich oil man to ensnare. He still seems interested - I guess he liked the casualness of the date and that I could (shudder) banter. All I can say is that there was definite prolonged eye contact - in a non creepy way - that, if I wasn't slightly jittery, could certainly be explored further...

To finish this post like a good English lit student:

In conclusion, it was a slightly weird (see points 1-4) date and I returned home rather confused but I feel there is a limited future in this. I can definitely see a Second Date coming close. After that, I'll leave it to the stars.

A Prostitute Mrs Weasley

I have my date with Tall Australian tonight. In approximately 4 hours and 45 minutes. Holy fuck I am getting more and more nervous.

It's raining at the moment which is kinda shit cos we were planning on going for a walk on the beach before going for a drink but no doubt it'll be crazy windy at the beach too so don't think that'll be a hot look for me - 'windswept and interesting' as my mother would say. 'Mascara running everywhere and high possibility of snot mixing with rain on face' is what I'd say. Aren't I a catch?

We'll be walking into town though which is only 10 minutes away from my flat. I always think walking is a good thing to do. You can't really have awkward silences on a walk. Can you? I don't think so because you can be like, 'oh look at all the Christmas lights' or 'doesn't the tree look cool' or 'there's a homeless man fighting with a seagull' and therefore the silence is filled. It's definitely not as awkward as sitting opposite each other at a table with nothing to say.

I'm hoping it goes well - if just to complete this fairytale string of events. I can't see a future in this, mainly because I'm worried he'll find out how old I am and decide he's way too mature for me (a la LB). However, unlike LB, this could be legitimate as I wouldn't be surprised if he turned out to be about 30. I hate being a teenager. It all sounds very different when you can say 'I'm twenty'. Having a '-teen' at the end of your age immediately downgrades you into youth territory. I refuse to be a youth.

We hardly know each other, Tall Australian and I, so I doubt they'll be too many silences. He sounds interesting anyway. South African (intriguing - what's he doing here? Does he have a South African wife hidden in a cupboard?), in the oil industry (score - possibility of becoming a rich oil man. Also might explain why he's here) but not in it for the money - instead in it for the travel (also score), a surfer (hot), used to take night walks on the beach when he lived closer....

Speaking of nightly beach walks, I went there last night and - not to try and read too much into this or anything - but there were a fuck tonne of stars. And the moon was bloody gorgeous - one of those times where there are hardly any waves so the light of the moon spills onto the water and makes it look like you could just walk onto it and into the distance. Is there a name for that? Moon road?

I must go and shave my legs now. They have been happily hidden away for Winter but now is the time to get them all nice and smoothy smooth again. I know they most definitely won't be getting out of my jeans but it's always nice to know that you have smoothy smooth girly legs. You know, makes you feel less like a yeti.

I've calmed myself down by writing this. Something about writing your thoughts down has the effect of getting them all out your brain so you can come back to them at a later date. Hopefully this means all my nerves will be down on paper and I will be carefree and happy on this date tonight. Fingers crossed.

I'm arranging a Skype call with Tiny Friend when she gets in from work as we need to discuss hair/make up/clothes and I need her to use all her imagination to 'smell' my various perfume choices from 100 miles away and over the internet. I am such a perfume whore. To be fair, only 6 of them are full size, the other 12 are minis or sample sprays... And I've decided I don't want to wear one that I would've worn for LB or TGI - one that screams 'TAKE ME NOW, I AM A SEXUAL BEING, CAN YOU NOT SMELL MY SEXUALITY, I'VE GOT NICE PANTS ON AND EVERYTHING' because that's not the vibe I want to give off. I think I've narrowed it down to 3. They give off more of a safe, comforting vibe - one's floral and the other two are vanilla. So I'll smell more like a potential housewife than stripper. Not to exaggerate or anything.

Right, I need to stop rambling and tend to my legs. Sophie will be back from her exam soon so she can help with the hair/make up/clothes/perfume situation. Because I can assure you that, left to my own devices, I would end up looking like some kind of prostitute Mrs Weasley.

On that note... Sorry.

Foreshadowed The Fuck Outta That

Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to refer you back to my previous post and more importantly, the ending of said previous post:

'Maybe I'll just try and jump Tall Australian at work on Sunday? Don't knock it till you try...

You never know, he might turn round and be all...'

WELL. Considering it is Sunday today, you can be rest assured that I did not jump him. I haven't even gone to work yet (running late as per usual, ever the professional).

But on Saturday. Oh yes, on Saturday...

I'd just come back from my lunch break - oh! Whilst on said lunch break, I was on the phone to my mother trying to organise the Christmas holibobs when this old dude caught my eye with his wife. I was like, can I help you...? Turns out he was the Indonesian puppet man. And bless him, he was just telling me that they'd got them home safe and were thanking me for the time and effort I put into helping them. It was really sweet actually. Also this is the 4th time I've been recognised out of work on the street. Not on the street like in a prostitute way. I still have my job, I'm not getting that desperate.

Anyway. I'd just come back from my lunch break and was back behind the till when Alice, my co-worker, came up to me all cray cray excited about something. I was like, bitch what? And this is how our conversation went:

Alice: 

Well while you were away for lunch, this South African man came into the shop and was asking for you. He asked your name and I told him you were on your lunch break but could I help him with something. And he said he'd come in because he wanted to ask you out for a drink so could he give me his number to give to you.

Me:

....  You're kidding right. 

Alice:

No! He was tall and -

Me:

KIND OF BLONDE AND RUGGED LOOKING LIKE HE'D PROBABLY BE REALLY GOOD AT ROCK CLIMBING OR SOMETHING

Alice:

Yeah and so I asked if he was Australian... Turns out he's South African and -

Me:

BITCH IF YOU'RE MESSING WITH ME RIGHT NOW I SWEAR - 

And then she handed me a piece of paper with a name and number on it.

So basically...

I GOT ASKED OUT BY TALL AUSTRALIAN WHO IS ACTUALLY SOUTH AFRICAN WHICH IS MY BAD, I KNEW HIS AUSTRALIAN ACCENT WAS A BIT OFF, BUT THAT'S NOT EVEN THE POINT. THE POINT IS THAT THIS IS A THING THAT LEGITIMATELY HAPPENED. FO REALZ THO.

And I texted him that night while I was getting ready to go out to Bombskare with Sophie. I said:

'I must have pretty incredible shop assistant skills to get your number whilst on my lunch break and not even in the shop...'

AND HE SAID(!!!!):

'You obviously do!! I finally worked up the courage to get it to you!! Only took twenty trips buying random shit.'

I MEAN!!!!!!! HOW IS THIS EVEN HAPPENING RIGHT NOW? HOW IS THIS MY LIFE??

Ink 'n' Shit 'n' Short Posts

I know it always seems rather shallow and close minded of me to have the majority of my posts discussing the male species... But in reality, the rest of my life is so cocking boring. Like, all the time. Sometimes you just need a bit of male drama to spice things up a bit. It's times like these when I start considering new tattoos.

I got both of my tattoos this year. One very spontaneously and the second actually planned. And after the first one, I felt incredible. It was like I was a new woman with my recently dyed bright red hair - I soon contracted tonsillitis and the redness only emphasised how deathly pale I looked so I phased into ginger and now auburn (so Winter 2014 dahling) - and I went everywhere with my top hanging off my shoulder trying to ever so nonchalantly show it off.

It was then, utterly coincidently, that I met LB. Then TGI happened. Then Troy happened. Then TGI once more. Then the beginning of LB. Then I got the second one on my 19th birthday.

And this one felt different. It felt as if it had always been there - I wasn't constantly rolling up my sleeves to show it off or waving my wrist in people's faces. It felt natural and like it was meant to be. Augustine (volunteer at work, remember) once said that he thought my tattoos were really cool. Cool has never been an adjective used to describe me so I take to repeating it at every possible moment.

But now I'm thinking; so much happened after the first tattoo. And nothing appears to have occurred after the second - apart from the obvious getting my heart slightly bashed about by an arsehole future lawyer. Then again, this may just be another 'stars and shit' moment. It is, of course, rather idiotic to place such trust in astrological situations or fresh ink stabbed into your skin.

Ughhhhhh. I need to DO something. Not just sit around slowly gaining weight and losing money due to a ridiculous amount of Domino's ordering that has taken place the past few weeks. I feel this should be the time that I get super fit and hot and flaunt my new found fitness and hotness in front of LB. But that feels like it'll take a lot of effort. And I've got to get through half the works of Shakespeare for my exam next week.

Maybe I'll just try and jump Tall Australian at work on Sunday? Don't knock it till you try...

You never know, he might turn round and be all...

(You know I can't help it.)