Dad Dancing

Well this is unexpected. I was planning on writing another post about the arseholes of the male species as per usual, but I think this one's going to be slightly different. See, I met up with Slains Dinosaur last night. He'd finally come onshore having been on a ship for the past two weeks. And I'd reluctantly agreed to meet up with him. I say reluctantly because it seemed like so much effort when I could have easily just stayed on my sofa watching Grey's Anatomy all night. But we'd been planning this for quite a while. When I say 'this', I mean sex. We were pretty much just going to meet up for sex. Because I'm a classy fuck.

So I met him and two of his shipmates at Vodka Rev. He said he'd meet me at the bar. I walked in and spotted him straight away. I mean, he's 6'9. Six feet and nine inches. A full nine inches taller than me. That's pretty fucking tall. But he was really sweet. It wasn't even awkward which I thought it might have been considering I'd only met him once. But we were chatting about stuff and his Romanian friend was dancing and it was all very nice and relaxed. Then we went to da club. As the youths say.

And in the line for da club, there were two guys in front of us. Slains Dinosaur and I were just happily chatting away when we hear them yell, 'Hey it's Crouch, it's Peter Crouch!' and laugh manically. They actually got a picture with him. Because he was tall. Not because he looked anything like Peter Crouch. The poor man, at least 5 people made a height comment that night. He must get so sick of it. Also for those uneducated in British football, this is Peter Crouch:

All I know about him is that he's tall and married to the blonde one who won Strictly Come Dancing once and is always on the front of trashy magazines. Also, on closer Wikipedia-ing, Peter Crouch is only 6'8. Just saying...

Anyway, we got into da club and went upstairs to where the cheesy music plays. Because obviously. Why would you want to listen to that godawful music played nowadays? After tequila shots, we went onto the dance floor. I think to best describe our dancing is to imagine middle aged parents dancing at a wedding after a few champagnes. It was really something. And you know what, dad-dancing at da club is incredible. It's one of the few times I've actually not given a fuck about what people think - and not just because I was drunk.

We left after an hour or so because, as per usual, I wanted food. We stopped off at McDonalds and then walked back home. I'd also like to point out that he paid for everything. I didn't have to get my purse out for the entire night. I feel like this is unusual nowadays - a man paying. It was quite a nice change.

I've just read back and noticed how awful my writing is. I am so not with it today. I'll go back and edit all the utterly terrible sentences at some point.

He had to get up at 6am to go back to his ship. We woke up at his alarm. And he had been holding me the entire night. I had my head on his chest and his arms were around me. I have honestly never had that with a guy before. Not straight away. It was so nice. And he kissed me as he was leaving and tucked the duvet up around me. I think I'm still a bit in shock about how nice it was.

And he wasn't nice like, too nice. Not like Troy. But he was nice and not a complete arsewank. Ugh I don't know, it was all just so unexpected. I had such low expectations for the night. And it went so well. He asked me out for a drink tonight.

This feels weird. But good weird. You know?

Cos Astronomy

Ah the return of university. Also known as: the return of me sleeping through all my 9am classes. Missed the first class of the term? Start as I mean to go on.

Although, excitement excitement prepare yourselves, I have an appointment with the nurse in an hour. She is hopefully going to sort out all my shitty hormones so I can stop being a shitty hormonal wreck. Slain's Dinosaur has taken to calling me Dr Jekyll/Miss Hyde. Admittedly, it must take him a while to write out on each text but it's fairly true. I have been horrible this past month. Fingers crossed it'll all get sorted out now.

In other news... LB returns.

I know, I know, don't all yell at me at once. This is different. You know those really gross things that are all hipster-y and Pinterest-y and have been known to make me cry if I'm feeling particularly low? The ones that are all like, do you think of me when you look at the stars and known I'm thinking of you cos astronomy. Wait, I'll find some.

You know? That kind of bullshit.

Well little daisychains, this is all relevant to LB because it happened in a less lame way. Basically, I was going to message him. Not in a 'come hither and let's get married and have lots of sex and babies' way, calm your pants. No, I genuinely wanted his opinion on something. I've been worried recently what I'm doing at uni and what I'm generally doing with my life and I wanted to ask him if he'd ever felt like that. Then I might have felt better because if he had, obviously he'd gotten past it and will now become an actual Lawyer Boy.

So after I went and made myself a cup of tea (essential messaging companion. Actually, tea is an essential life companion), I went on the Facebooks and lo and behold, I had a message awaiting me. From LB. From 20 minutes before.

Come on! That's weird, right? That's weird. And what's more, it was a message simply asking if I remembered the time I messaged him about the otter king at 2am. I MEAN....!!! How bored must he have been?!! He must have had absolutely nothing else to do. Isn't that ridiculous? Is that ridiculous? What's the deal with that?

Anyway, that amused me and I've managed to make a blog post about it. 10 points to Hufflepuff.

Shit, I really have to go and do general life things. I could always leave this till later and make it all proper nice looking and make sure it makes sense but... Nah.

But actually, I want your opinions and advice. Like actually genuinely. Has anyone been to uni and had this moment? How did you get over it? What are you doing with your life now? TELL ME EVERYTHING.

Hormones and Lumbersexuals

There's a storm outside. I hate storms. Especially since somewhere in our bathroom, there is a spot that appears to be letting in most of the storm. Not the rain, thank fuck, but I had a bath with a decidedly howling wind in my right ear.

I am so hormonal right now. It's horrible. I had a shitty day at work - we lost the key to the high value cabinet and - surprise surprise - I was the last one to have it so I was getting in trouble about it and I could've cried. And I was shivering all day and was hungover in the morning and it was just shit. Also hormonal me is not doing well on the saving money front. I've decided I need to start - slowly - saving up some money for when I have to become slightly more grown up in 2 and a half years and leave uni. Because unfortunately, when you're not a student, you don't get student loans any more.

But hormonal me has done a marvellous job of removing some of these savings to spend £80 on Space NK and a further £60 on Etsy. The terrible thing is that I only bought 3 candles on Etsy. Bloody American shipping prices. I also bought 2 candles on Space NK. I am officially nesting. It's what happens when hormonal me shows up. I nest. And I suddenly become a lot more grown up and start wanting to find a husband and have kids and a house and be a housewife who is the tits at cooking and I want all of this in the next 3 years. Hormonal me sucks. Hormonal me somehow doesn't want to go travelling and get more tattoos and mess around with inappropriate men and have amazing times with her friends like normal me does. Nooooo hormonal me wants the husband. And a mortgage. And yes, all of this is from buying candles.

Nah, hormonal me is just a dick who doesn't know what she wants. It's right fun being a girl. I'm restless enough as it is. I'm just so bored of my life right now. I want a change up. But I don't know what change up I want. I don't know how to start changing it up. Maybe I should start yoga?

Oh god, Augustine stayed over last night. None of the sex stuff. Just sleeping. And it was wrong. Why on Earth did I think it was a good idea to get him round and drink lots? It was a terrible idea. In the morning - and when I woke up in the night - I had the exact feeling I had with Troy. It just felt all kinds of wrong. Ugh, shuddery gross no way wrong. And I told him that via text this evening. Via text because I really wanted to get it over with. And he was such a little bitch about it. Trying to engineer the conversation so it looked like I was being all tragic and pulling away from him for his own good. When really I am just not interested. I admitted that yes, it was a dick move to lead him on and that was my bad. I apologised. But he knew I was a dick to decent guys. I told him that straight away. Ugh. Anyway, that's all over and done with. Thank you very much move on now.

I recently did a quiz on Buzzfeed. Because who wouldn't? Buzzfeed is the ultimate time wasting site. Anyway, it was a quiz to see what man style turned me on or something. And I got 'Lumbersexual'. Okay for starters, let's just appreciate the word 'lumbersexual'. I mean. Yes. And the description was thus:

You like a man that is in touch with his masculinity. Nothing is more attractive than a grizzled ruggedness that comes from being outdoors. With a guy that’s macho and handsome, why would you want anyone else?

Holy fuck. I want that right now. I want to be in a log cabin in the middle of nowhere but the middle of nowhere is covered in snow. And I'm curled up in front of the fire with a hot drink and am all cosied up in pjs (I just bought a pair of pj bottoms from Long Tall Sally. They have a 36 inch leg. They will be too long for me. I have never experienced that. I'm so excited for my ankles to be warm). And I will have a lumbersexual man coming in with a big pile of wood he's just chopped in a very manly way. And he will be all beardy and wonderful. Although maybe not precisely like this image that you get when you Google 'lumbersexual':

I don't like how he holds his axe. A bit too serial killer if you ask me.

I really need to go to bed. I'm getting too involved Pinteresting log cabins and beards. This can only spiral downwards.

TGI

Two posts in one day? What's this madness? Unfortunately, I do use this blog as a type of journal so you'll forgive me if I just write things wherever and whenever. This will be short, I promise.

I messaged TGI.

Not in a slightly drunken phase of 'come do me right now'. This was almost a.. Preparation message. I asked him - for the sake of drunk me - if we were done randomly hooking up or if it was still going to be an occasional thing. Just wanted to ask a genuine, straight question and get a genuine, straight answer.

Which I did:

'Yeah we're done.'

We're done.

Done.

So here's to the actual end of TGI. I can assure you that this will not be a reoccurring thing any longer. This is a legitimate ending to something which, quite honestly, shaped me as a person a bit. I'm not trying to be dramatic by saying that or by writing this post at all. I'm just saying that he was good for me.

He was good for me because he showed me that I deserve someone who will care for me. Someone who is kind. He was good for me because he showed me that I can have fun sleeping around a bit - as long as it doesn't go too far emotionally. He was good for me because he was fun. And the reason I messaged him was because I missed that a bit. It was actually one of the most stable 'relationships' that happened to me last year. We knew where we stood and we knew where we were going. To an extent. I know it all fucked up. I'm thinking about the good parts. Shhh.

So...

Goodbye Rob. I'll never tell you this. But thank you.

Also I cried when I got that message. I'm obviously not as strong-hearted as I once thought.

Frustrating Arsehole

Isn't that a charming title? Especially coming from such an elegant human bean such as myself. The frustrating arsehole in question today, children, is Tall Australian. Indeed, Tall Australian of the epic adventures 'Beach Walk For First Date' and 'Unfeeling, Non-committal Sex For Second 'Date'' fame.

As I mentioned in my last post, I had a potential sex date with him last night. However, even as I was writing it, I knew that I didn't want to see him. I was just feeling really disconnected. I was drawing back into my Lonely State. Now the Lonely State is not a good state to be in. Because, for me, it describes general loneliness. I can never pinpoint just why I feel like that. I could be in need of a hug from a friend, my mother, a furry four-legged animal (I mean a cat, not TGI... Excuse me while I laugh forever at how unfunny that was) or from a man thing. And it turns out that my Lonely State the other night was for wine, food and an impromptu cinema date with my flatmate. And it was rather lovely. We continued it this morning by getting a taxi to the doctors at 9am because she has tonsillitis:

God, I love Miranda. Did anyone watch it? Tiny Friend and I are often described as Miranda and Stevie. I'd say that was fairly accurate:

The height difference is the same. I know, I know. I am utterly huge.

Anyway anyway anyway. Tall Australian is an arse. And he is an arse because... Well I don't quite know. But whether it is a clash in personalities or what, he just rubs me up the wrong way (oo-er) and frustrates me to fuck.

He texted me today and as per usual, by the second text, we were getting on each other's nerves. I wish I could say this was some sexual tension and we'd have crazy hot sex after fighting but... Nope. Just anger. No sex. Just anger. Via text. Our text conversation deteriorated into this (sorry, much screenshots):

Here we can see he's obviously an arsehole because he cannot spell 'enlighten'.

And here, ladies and gentlemen, we can see the rare case of me actually beginning to tell him what I thought.

In this particular case here, we can see that I finally told him what I thought and he just dismissed it. Dismissed it like I was an utter idiot. Arsehole.

And finally, my well known sarcasm rearing its textual head (oo-er?). Again: arsehole.

I am aware that I'm not really shown in my best light in those texts. But he just makes me so frustrated. And I am drawn to replying. I can't help it. I feel he's getting away with it if I don't reply when really, he's winning whenever I do text him back. I hate it when men win. I am too competitive for that. I recently met Tiny Friend's boyfriend (I imagine it was scarier than when he met her actual parents and not... Just me. But he bought me drinks so I like him) and we got to talking about how many people we'd slept with. He was 2 more than me. So I immediately started trying to think of 3 guys I knew might sleep with me so I could beat him.. My competitiveness is dangerous.

Anyway, I just needed to vent my frustrations at Tall Australian. I'm properly annoyed and slightly upset now so he's most definitely in the doghouse. And hopefully will be staying there forever more. Arsehole.

I'm going to now retrieve my phone from where I threw it (quick temper, sorrynotsorry), wait until wine time (5pm) to get a drink and then eat an entire mound of cheesy bacon potatoes that I, the culinary goddess of this flat right now (flatmate is asleep, she doesn't count), made all. by. my. self.

I got skillz.

Wine Made Me Write This

Happy new year, fuckers. It's time for slightly tipsy blogging again.

You know things I don't like? Hearing my flatmate having sex. Hearing my flatmate and boyfriend giggling after sex. The smell my plant makes when I haven't watered it in 2 weeks. The fact I got locked out of my building for an hour in the freezing cold Scottish winter.

I love my flatmate, I do. But sometimes, when you're feeling lonely and sorry for yourself, you would love the chance to just live alone and do everything that you want to do and decorate by yourself and walk around naked after having a bath just because you can. Okay so not much of that is hindered by having a flatmate but still. It's annoying.

A cat followed me home from Morrisons this evening. I had too many bags to stop it getting in my front door when I unlocked it. And again with my flat door. I amused myself by playing with the cat for a few minutes until I eventually realised that it obviously wasn't mine and didn't even belong in the building. So I picked it up and took it to the front door. Unfortunately I had taken off my coat, left my keys in my flat and kept the door to the flat open when the front door slammed shut behind me. I meant to have my foot keeping it ajar but apparently I am just terrible at life so that didn't work.

Long story made slightly shorter, I trekked all the way to Troy's house (down the road) as he was the only person who had my flatmate's number and I knew where he lived. He wasn't in. So I went back to the flat and thought about waiting for Sophie to come home but it was too bloody cold so eventually I dragged my poor, freezing body out into town to go to her usual pub to see if someone was there that I knew. I eventually got the nice bartender (who apparently I shouldn't like because she used to date Sophie's boyfriend but that's all far too complex) to phone her friend who could phone Sophie. Anyway, I finally got back in. Only to be greeted by the cat pawing at my window from the outside and subsequently sitting there for about 2 hours miaowing pitifully. Just look at that face in terrible phone camera quality:

Also right now, I am texting 3 men at once and it's rather exhausting. Slain's Dinosaur (6'9" guy) is due to be back onshore either tomorrow or Wednesday and I haven't seen him since we first met on Halloween and there's all this expectation. Hopefully we'll both be reasonably drunk so it'll be fine. I just want to check out his height again. 6'9"!!

Augustine from work is the second guy. Annoyingly(ish) I didn't expect anything to happen with him so used his proper name and don't have a hilariously clever codename. But not so annoyingly, he asked me out on Sunday. I know! It was really rather unexpected. And was really rather sweet. It was quite the change to have a man be reasonably nervous about asking me out rather than being Cocky McCockypants the 3rd. You know?

And lastly, Tall Australian. I know, I know, I said I'd leave this well alone. But I'm bored. And just one time isn't really enough to properly judge someone...? Alright, alright, stop judging me yourselves.

2015 hasn't exactly gotten off to a flying start of excitement. But I have a lunch date with Augustine later this week, an evening drink with Slain's Dinosaur on Wednesday and a potential sex date with Tall Australian tomorrow. I feel I'm getting in a bit over my head...