LB (And To A Lesser Extent: Troy)

I've realised that every time it has properly ended with a man, I write something about it.

And (obvs) I haven't written anything about the train wreck that was LB yet because, up until about a week ago, I still wasn't sure I was 100% over him. There was about 0.01 of a percent of me that still thought about him in the way that I definitely shouldn't have.

But anyhoo, I messaged him last week. Not with any malicious intent of course, I just wanted to have some closure. I wanted to find out what he had thought of me when we were together (in the loosest sense of the word).

Long story short: he is the most boring man on the planet and apparently just found me 'interesting'.

And seriously, like the wave of a magic fucking fairy godmother wand, I'm over him. Completely. He doesn't pop into my head any more and even if he does, I have a record of the conversation that proves he is a boring fuck and probably couldn't deal with a conversation about poo.

Tiny Friend Holly says that we should now just ask people the moment we meet them if they would be comfortable talking about poo a lot as it makes up the majority of our conversations. Because we are adults.

So goodbye Sean. And fuck you for generally ripping my heart apart over the course of one very very long year. But also thank you. Thank you for making me realise what I really want. Which is not you. So again, fuck you. Also you're balding. You're very tall so you can't see it but I can assure you that it's starting.

Also lol totes forgot to do this about Troy about a billion years ago. So goodbye Gregor. Sorry I was a total bumhole to you. I hope you find someone that will have all the sex with you.

Teddy Bear Bartenders

Sophie and I went out last night to Blues Jam. It's a really chill night at our friend's bar (that's right fuckers, I know someone who owns a bar) and it's always good to go for a few drinks and eventual drunken dancing. There also happens to be a really cute bartender there. Did I fool you? Did you think for just one second that this post might not be about men? Have you learned nothing?

The cute bartender also happens to own the bar. You know, they co-own it. And good lord, he is so my type. I mean, he's tall (6'3"), he's slightly bearded (usually I just go for stubble but now it's Winter, I feel like beards look more cosy. Just me?) and is all cuddly looking and teddy bear-like. I've always thought he was cute and Sophie apparently knew this. That, or she just knows me too well.

Basically, Sophie and Gav (the non bartender who owns the bar) were playing matchmaker. Gav had very casually said to me that Teddy Bear Bartender had been single for a few months and that we would get on well together. He then gave me 10 seconds to go over and talk to him or Gav himself would pull out a How I Met Your Mother; 'haaaaave you met Nancy?'

I protested greatly that I wouldn't know what to say or do - when I get nervous or excited, I don't know what to do with my hands and so end up swinging them about screaming 'I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH MY HANDS'. God, I'm a catch.

But Gav had reached the end of his 10 second countdown so he dragged me over to the bar and got Teddy Bear Bartender's attention. With a quick 'haaaave you met Nancy?' he then ran off chuckling to himself. And then I was LEFT all ALONE with Teddy Bear Bartender and I DIDN'T KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH MY HANDS. But we kinda started talking (well, shouting over the blues music in the background) and it was all fine. When I left to go home, I gave him a piece of paper with my number on it - I've never done that before, it was all very exciting.

And I got a text from him this afternoon. Which was also all very exciting. And we've been texting a bit but I just have no idea what to say to him... I don't think 'I think you're really kinda hot and I would really love to sleep with you in all your teddy bear-ness and beardyness pleasethankyouverymuchso' is really acceptable.

Ho hum, we'll see. Although, as my mother reminded me on the phone this morning, I am not going to 'lose' SD. I need to hang on to him (her words). Which I do, he's nice and makes me feel happy. And he really does look all manly and rugged in his recent snapchats. But, I mean, I've not made myself exclusive to him. He's offshore right now. What else am I supposed to do...

I don't foresee great things with TBB (yaaaasss more abbreviated codenames) but I'd be quite disappointed if I didn't sleep with him. I mean, seriously. I think he's bloody gorgeous. In a cuddly beardy way. Which is the best way.

Those Fucking Kittens

I am flat hunting again. Which is a pain in the arse. One of my flatmates is moving out and Sophie and I don't have anyone to replace her with. I've got a few friends coming back from their years abroad but honestly, despite them being very lovely people, I couldn't live with them. So Sophie and I are going to have to head out into the big wide world all on our lonesomes.

I'm quite excited, actually. I get bored very, very easily and I mean, I've been in this flat for 6 months now... So surely it's time for a change? Really, I'm just hoping we can find somewhere that will let us have a cat. I am so jealous of anyone living with a pet at the moment. Especially in Winter. Winter's just the time you want to curl up with a warm fluffy being.

I messaged LB to ask if he knew of any 2 bed flats going free. Calm your pants, he's leaving this year so I assumed most of his friends would also be leaving. Not that I was after his flat. That'd be a bit too weird. It's weird he's leaving too. I mean, in 4 months, I'll never see him again - not even to bump into in the street. Which I know will be a relief - my conscious mind may be over him but that subconscious.... I don't know. I think it might be quite hard to get used to the fact that he'll be properly gone. Is that weird? Is that stupid?

It's such an odd feeling for me. Being a little bit in love with someone still. Only a tiny bit. But LB and I were just talking about cats and how you wouldn't need anything else in your life once you had a cat. He was saying how he had to miss out going back home to look after his kittens because he had a lecture he couldn't skip. Which may have reminded me of a picture of him that came up on my Facebook newsfeed the other day... Of him holding 2 kittens... Which I then had to go and look at again... Which then meant I had to go through some of his other photos... And mentally berate the stupid short blonde who I am 90% sure he used to date and who is in ALL of his photos... And...


And now I'm eating doughnuts, waiting for a pizza to arrive and planning a night out with Sophie to get white girl wasted.

Baby steps, right? You can't just get over someone in... 2 months...

God, I frustate myself, I really do.

Bonus kittens to make me feel better.

Look at those adorable fucking faces. 

Colds 'n' Shit

So I've just been knocked out for the past week with tonsillitis and a god awful cold. This has not been the best start to the year. But it's February now! Happy February, fuckers. I don't know if I like February more or less than January. With January, you've got the start of a new year - New Year New You and all that bollocks - and you're still cosied up in the warmth from Christmas. But, for me anyway, by the time the arse end of the month drags itself round, you're just begging for Spring. February is just a step towards Spring. I mean, I walked home from work yesterday and it was light! What is this madness.

But I'm getting better now and with the days slowly getting lighter, it's put a bit of a spring in my step. Not literally. That seems like exercise. I'm currently sitting in my very nice and tidy room (we had a flat inspection yesterday - all various forms of candles and oil burners were hastily stuffed into a suitcase) and drinking tea. Tea just makes everything better. Oh, and Joni Mitchell's playing. Joni Mitchell makes things better too.

I know you're all waiting with baited breath to hear about Slains Dinosaur (SD for short - you know I love my abbreviations almost as much as I love my codenames) and I shall not disappoint.

You guys, I think this could be something.

Now, I don't want to get all overexcited or anything. I mean, I'm just judging this on last weekend. You know we met up on Saturday and he stayed over. But he asked me out for a drink on Sunday which I accepted... Until I realised I'd 'accidentally' just gotten into my pjs and wound up sitting in bed watching Pretty Woman. So, I texted him to say sorry but I'd have to pass on the drink because Pretty Woman and bed beats going out in the Aberdonian weather any day. I also texted him to tell him how much I was craving pizza. Ten minutes later, he phoned me; 'Madame I am outside your flat with pizza, would you care to let me in?'

I MEAN!!!!! Can we just...???!!!!

And may I just clarify that it was PROPER pizza. Not just a Morrisons frozen job. A PROPER REAL HOT TAKEOUT PIZZA. WITH ALL THE CHEESE. God, cheese. Cheese completes me. Actually food in general completes me. My list of important things in life would go:

• Food
•  
•  
•  
•  
• 
  
•  
•  
• Everything Else

I've completely forgotten what I was talking about now. Something about... Oh! Yes. So he came round with that god of a pizza on Sunday night. And we talked for hours. Legit proper actual hours. And he stayed over. And then had to leave at 5am. And then I gave him tonsillitis... What can I say, I like sharing.

So we were both knocked out with tonsillitis. However, he had to work every day doing boat related things whereas I could just lie in bed and look pathetic. Then he had to go offshore on Wednesday because of oil n stuff. We've been texting every day. And had an argument over snapchat. I've never quite understood snapchat. But ever since receiving a drawing of a submarine on fire from SD, I think I can kinda get behind it. Although he was a dick about it and started sending me photos of actual submarines. I am scared of submarines. As you do. It's not the idea of being in a submarine - I think I could do that. No it's like, imagine you were just calmly sitting in your little boat or canoe and then ALL OF A SUDDEN A SUBMARINE STARTS RISING OUT OF THE WATER AND IT'S ALL SLOW AND MENACING AND THE WATER'S FALLING OFF THE BACK OF IT AND... Nope. Nope nope nope. Thank you but nope.

Ahem. Yes, he sent me photos of submarines so I threatened to sell his £300 watch that he'd left here. As you do. He's just texted me to say he'll be back onshore on Sunday.

I'm kinda looking forward to seeing him.

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...

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

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??

Part Deux - Slightly Drunk And Way Too Emotional

So he left. And I cried. I wailed like a baby and could not stop. Once I'd calmed down enough to stop wailing (but still crying) I made myself a drink and decided to go to the beach once I'd finished it. You know I bloody love the beach. So I told Sophie and her boyfriend where I was going and set off.

And as soon as I was out the house, I texted LB.

Because I had thought of something. I had a proposition for him. I thought maybe, we could just forget about the feelings and just be casual fuck buddies. Right? Makes sense, right? (Now is not the time to tell me that makes no sense at all). Because I am slightly drunk. As the title so rightly says. Don't worry, am trying very very hard to spellcheck errything. Bloody hate misspelled words.

Okay so he replied to this text being all intrigued and shit. So I decided to go round there. I mean, I texted him first to say I was coming round. I don't just turn up a people's doors.

But here's the part I am most ashamed of.

Troy lives a street away from me. Would that be a block away in USA terms? I've never understood that. Can someone enlighten me? So he lives a street away. On the way to the beach. So I, for some reason, thought that phoning him on the way to the beach would be an excellent idea. He said he was around so I stopped off at his,

Long story short: I kissed him. And he didn't kiss back.

Because he is a decent human being. He knows not to take advantage of someone - especially when they are drunk and considering he still likes me... And he didn't kiss me back. And I felt so embarrassed. So embarrassed.

EDIT: This post has taken me 3 days to write. So much has been going on over the past few days. So much. It is now Friday morning, I am no longer drunk.

So yes, I kissed Troy. And then I left to go to LB's.

I got round there and asked him straight out what the deal was. He said that, again, he liked me enough for a relationship but would be gone by June. I assured him I didn't want relationships because they are scarypants so he was perfectly safe there. Then we had crazy hot sex and I left the next morning. And I mean crazy hot. Bloody hell.

And I was fine with it. Despite the fact I had told him to leave - a fact he was very impressed with - and then immediately went round to his which basically almost put me back to square one. But I was totally fine with it. I had gotten all the feelings part out the way and we were just going to continue having occasional crazy hot sex.

Then I had a pregnancy scare.

Chyeah. That's a thing. That happened.

Just to clear things up now - I am not pregnant. Nor do I intend to be for quite some time. But when you're a girl, you know when something's not right. I had been so over-emotional the past few weeks and my skin was going crazy and I'd been eating everything in existence. Things that don't normally happen were happening. So yes, I freaked out. And I got drunk. Obviously.

And I happened to text LB. Telling him I might be pregnant. I know, I know. Possibly one of the most idiotic things I could have done. But I have no idea how to tell you how I was feeling then. I felt lost. So, so lost and confused about everything that was happening in my life. Not just men (as much as this blog likes to make it look the opposite, I do actually have other things going on in my life that don't have penises) but everything.

So yes, I told him. And he freaked out. And I got mad at him. I got mad at him for freaking out because of course he would - the self absorbed fuck. So I told him that even if I was pregnant. he'd get off scot free because I would give him the chance to fuck off and have nothing to do with it. He could carry on doing his lawyerly thing and fucking about with many other girls and he wouldn't need to worry. So for once, would he be a decent man and think about how I'm feeling.

God, I am the worst when drunk.

He understandably got even madder. And came round. I wouldn't let him in the house because I was being a strong independent woman so we had a huge argument outside. I cried. I didn't (and still don't) understand what he wanted from me. He didn't have a clear point to make other than I had made him feel like shit. Poor, delicate flower. Then we went inside to bed. I was so emotionally and physically exhausted by then that he could have suggested we move to China and I would have agreed as long as there was a bed waiting for me at the other end.

And all night, he held me. He has never done that before. Ever. We have slept together (sleeping) a lot. And not once have I woken up in the night or in the morning to his arms around me. And it's not like he's just moving in the night. We never went to sleep in each other's arms. Perfect guy, huh?

But despite that, I woke up feeling that none of this was right. I kicked him out at midday. I kicked him out nearly 2 hours ago. I've blocked his number. I think I've sworn off men.

Because my friends were right. He was unhealthy for me. I had lost all sense of who I was since being with him. And, as I told him when we were arguing, I was so not in love with him. I had just put him up on a pedestal and I hadn't wanted to let him go because he was Lawyer Boy. And he had wanted me.

When he left today, it was very TGI-esque. He got dressed and I tried to just shut my eyes and go back to sleep. And he turned at the door and said 'bye'. I didn't reply. So he walked out.

'Bye'. That was it.

I'm glad. I'm glad this ended after such a short time. I mean, only 2 months isn't that bad. And now I can just do other stuff right? Other stuff...

God, I am exhausted. So, so exhausted. I want to just curl up and sleep forever. I have no emotions right now. I don't want to cry or shout. I just want to sleep.

So there we go. I wouldn't expect regular posts any time soon. I mean, I have to find another man to write about, obviously.

Now tell me, what do you think? Of this whole thing? This whole, turbulent thing? What should have I done differently (everything)?

It's a really good thing I don't have his jumper any more. It means he won't forget me all too quickly until he washes it. And I think that's fair. I think that's very fair.

I Can't Even Think Of An Appropriate Title

Holy fuck.

The past 24 hours have been an emotional bloody rollercoaster, let me tell you.

I'm going to make this as brief as I can because I am exhausted. I am exhausted from stressing, from crying and from amazing sex. Let us begin.

So I picked up an essay after class yesterday and it had such a terrible mark on it that I cancelled my study date to go home and cry over wine. Wine Time is usually 5pm. Yesterday, it was 3:30pm. No judging. It was needed. Especially since I had been texting LB on my walk back home about the possibilities of my becoming a stripper instead of studying at uni. And once I'd gotten home, I asked him to say something nice to make me feel better. He replied with;

'You are a very pretty girl with a seriously impressive drinking problem?'

I genuinely collapsed on the floor and wailed. The mix of the sudden compliment, the bad mark and the stress of worrying why I was actually at university just got to me. And I cried so hard. Whilst sober. That is such a rare occurrence, I shocked myself and my flatmate when she got home. I am not pretty whilst crying. At all. It's quite horrifying.

Anyway, Sophie and I devised a cunning plan. I would get LB round to collect his jumper. Sophie would open the door looking scary and punk and I would be in my room looking crazy fuckable. I would get him to read the gas meter (it's in a corner of my room where I am pretty sure all the world's spiders reside at some point in their lives) and then I would throw him out with his jumper and yell at him about how I deserved better.

And it nearly worked. Soph looked scary, I looked hot, the gas meter was read and then the issue arose. I didn't bank on him staying. I thought he would leave. He didn't. So I went into the kitchen where Soph and her boyfriend were and panicked. She told me to just tell him that he shouldn't dick me about any more and to get out. So I went back into my room and told him. I told him that I wasn't going to do this any more, that I deserved better and if he was never ever going to be a dick to me again, he could stay. But if he was going to fuck me about, he should leave.

He looked at me and said that, by my standards, he was probably going to be a dick to me again even if he didn't mean to. So I just looked back and said; 'Well you know where the door is' and left to go into the kitchen. Seriously, it was like something out of a film.

I went into the kitchen and stood at the door while tears starting filling my eyes. Two minutes later, I heard our door go and then the front door shut. And I broke down completely. He'd gone.



To be continued..

Ya Hunky Funk

EDIT:  I scheduled this post yesterday morning. I didn't realise I would write another post that same day. I think most of this still makes sense. Sorry not sorry. 


So I was going to write this post yesterday but, having had experience in writing whilst very hungover (hello last year's French exam), I decided to wait until I was in a sunshinier mood. Which, to an extent I am. I say to an extent because I have been awake for approximately 18 minutes after having a very stressful dream about not being able to close the shop because customers kept coming in and I couldn't get them out. There were croissants involved and I had to deduce where a soft toy elephant came from despite telling the customer over and over that we were a charity shop and I had no fucking clue. I'm getting tense just thinking about it. Although it definitely wasn't as bad as the dream I had where I discovered that my diary was actually a 2006 diary. I woke up sweating.

ANYHOODLE, I was hungover yesterday. Because Flatmate Number 1 (hereafter named FN1 because I am an original fuck) and I went out for girly drinks. Which we'd never done before so it was rather lovely. It's so nice not to get all super dressed up to go out because you're aiming to go out on the pull - also one of da clubs here doesn't let you in if you're wearing jeans. Bitch please, this is Aberdeen, you're not going to get any Chelsea types here.

Can you tell I'm in an odd mood? I'm in an odd mood.

I was round at Troy's house last night for pizza and Lord of the Rings part 2 and I'm scared he's not gotten over me. There were too many long, lingering glances when I was trying to get him to change the disc or pass me the pizza box. I definitely do not think I was encouraging it - I have been one to be a dick and encourage a boy's feelings for me* and this was most definitely not one of those times.

*Sidebar: I was/am a manipulative bumhole.

Anyway, Troy aside, FN1 and I were at the bar in the castle (it's so cool, all gothic-y and shit. We were there for Halloween and it was fabby) and had just walked out of the toilets (concealed behind a fake bookcase) when we noticed a hunky looking blonde looking our way. I have never used the word 'hunky' until FN1 and I were in our English tutorial writing notes to each other like mature students. There's a rugby player in our class called Adam and he is bloody gorgeous. One of FN1's notes to me was something along the lines of 'yaaass roll up those sleeves ya hunky fuck' which made me snort laugh so uncontrollably, I got a major death stare (*salutes* Major Death Stare) from the professor.

We find it even funnier now since I was saying how much of a hunky fuck he was when we were back home and, as per usual, fucked it up so ended up saying 'hunky funk'. It's funny. Come on. Funny. Hunky funk. Instead of fuck. Funny. I'm funny,

Right so Blonde Hunk at the bar. We went to get drinks and - prepare yourselves for this - I winked at him across the bar. WINKED!! I have never done such a thing in my life!! My preferred method to getting guys when I'm out is to get horrifically drunk, wear a short dress and throw myself at them before they even have time to say 'I'm gay'.

No comment.

Yes, so Blonde Hunk. After being a brazen wench, FN1 and I went to sit down. And we lost him. So after I took some hilarious snapchats on her phone whilst she went to pee (thinking back on it, the one of my boobs with '#topflatmate' written above was not my best idea) we went to the vodka bar down the road. As we sat there unashamedly not drinking vodka, he walked past us and sat down at one of the booths. Naturally we decided to move from the bar with our many drinks and sit down next to them.

Oh! Oh! I forgot to say, he saw us leaving the castle bar when he was outside smoking (bleeuurrgh) and asked us where we were going. I told him that we were going to Revolution cos one of the bartenders fancied Sophie (dropping the FN1 now, it was too robotic. Also she knows I write this, I'm sure she'll give zero fucks if I use her actual name. It just sounds less fun and MI5. Oh well). And he turned and said, 'who fancies you then' and I was all, 'I don't know, you'll have to tell me' and flounced off and it was awesome. Even if I do say so myself. Thank you, myself.

So, back to the vodka bar. We were sitting next to them and I had my back turned and was chatting to Sophie. Then he took my hand. And, there's no easy way to say this but we were, as Soph said: hand fucking. NOT WHAT YOU THINK YOU DIRTY MINDED SODS. More like playing with each other's hands. You know? And I was being super cool by still not looking at him and having a nonchalant but actually very frantic conversation with Soph about whether or not I wanted to sleep with him. I mean, I didn't. For one thing, he smoked (bleeeeeeuuuurrggghhhhh) and also I just kinda wasn't feeling it. But I would have done. I was considering it. Not only was he hunky hot but I felt it would show LB that I could get another guy and I wasn't hung up on him. LB wasn't there, by the way. This was all in my head.

Anyway, Soph convinced me that was a dumb fucking idea and we should leave. So I agreed and got up to put my coat on. She said she was going to tell him what a dick he was and I was like, fine but let me do something first. So, being the awesome fuck I am, I leant over and kissed him. Then walked off as Sophie berated him for being an arse and told him I'd only kissed him because I was vulnerable. She's the bestest.

Then we drank some more and I do not remember the rest of the night. As per usual.

I am also rather annoyed I didn't sleep with him because, from what I can recall, he was quite the hunk.

So I have successfully made a very insignificant event into a full blog post. Well done me, Thank you, me. I think I just wanted to show that I could have. I could have slept with him and therefore shown that I'm not hung up on LB and his stupid frustratingness. He's so bloody annoying and arrogant and full of himself and gives zero fucks about me.

Hey ho. I'm going to shower and listen to Joni Mitchell as I clean the flat. Sometimes I shock myself how like my mother I am becoming. But Joni Mitchell always calms you down. It's proven fact. She also makes you reconsider your entire life so I would prepare yourselves.

Was this the longest and most boring post ever? Probably. Not even sorry. My blog, my rules.

Unrelated and unnecessary Harry Potter in my posts is my new favourite thing. Even better than pugs.

There Are No Stars

Two posts in one day? What madness is this?

Do you believe in signs?

Signs from the universe?

I do. Rarely. But I do. And tonight, I got a sign.

I've told you before that I love the beach here and the wide expanse of the ocean. I go there to think about stuff and it's where most of my great realisations occur. Of which there are many. And one of the times I was at the beach a couple of months ago, I texted LB asking if he wanted to come. I then used my excellent persuasive skills to tell him that 'there's stars and shit' which would of course further his desire to come to the beach. I have done this every time I've gone to the beach since then.

I wrote an obviously hilarious post about it here. It also turned out to be the first time we had sex. Ah, how time flies when you're having your heart wrenched about by a bastard law student.

I texted him the same thing on Bonfire Night. Practically the entire city had turned up to watch the fireworks from the beach. Bloody love fireworks. And Bonfire Night in particular. I remember last year when I was still living at halls and everyone was all bundled up in scarves and winter coats (because Aberdeen is as sodding cold as a snowman's arse) and we all walked down together. And as we walked down to the beach, everyone else was going too - families and friends and couples - all as cosied up as we were. It brought a lump to my throat. Because I am a soppy cow. It was the same this year. I think Bonfire Night is fast becoming my favourite day of the year. When we got to the beach this year, I saw LB. He didn't see me so I texted him saying 'there's stars and shit'. Because I am hilarious. He replied saying he was here. I was like, for once. And then as the fireworks began, I got a text from him saying; 'there's fireworks and shit'. Is it just me overthinking it or was I right to get ridiculously happy from that text? God, fireworks make me cry.

Anyway. Earlier this evening, I had gotten crazy mad at him. Not physically at him or over the phone at him - he has no idea I'm mad. No, I got mad at him by getting mad at myself. Basically, I went on his Facebook page and saw he'd changed his cover photo at the start of the month. He'd changed it to a table and chairs laid out in what looked very much like a date set up for two. There was even wine glasses and a bottle.

This got me mad. I started thinking wildly that maybe he was actually dating someone right now. I mean, sharing a man when it's only sex is fine by me. Sharing a man when it's dating is not. I would hate to be the girl he might  be dating and finding out that he's also been having sex with me and who knows how many others. Whether this is true or not, I have no idea. I'm mad. Shut up.

So I did what I usually do when mad. I went to the beach. Loud music on the way there, mainly this:

And this:

And then headphones out as soon as I catch sight of the waves. Because tonight, they were doing proper good wave things. It was all thunder-y and awesome. So I stood and watched the waves for a while. And as I did so, I looked up to the sky as usual.

It was cloudy and a heavy mist was starting to spread across the water and surround the lamp posts behind me. As I sat there, there was a huge rumbling noise - I guess a chorus of the waves, an aeroplane and the massive oil boat moving from the harbour. And I sat there in the wind with the mist and the rumbling and realised:

There are no stars.

On a night when I was so unbelievably angry at Sean and had gone to my favourite place, that very favourite place was telling me something. It was telling me that there was no point. That there were no stars left here. There were - there definitely had been stars a few weeks ago, but now there was nothing. No stars.

Having already deleted him as a friend on Facebook before I left (and forcefully thrown his jumper across my room), I deleted his conversation thread from my texts but then I wavered at deleting his number.

I started thinking to myself, what if he texts me asking if I was going out or if I was around? Then I wouldn't know who it was. What if that's my chance and I miss it?

I put my headphones back in on my way home to be greeted with this:

So you'll understand why I still haven't deleted his number. I'm not as angry any more. I know exactly how much pain each day will add on. And I know that the signs were right. Maybe not now, but at some point in the very near future, he will turn to me and end this. Whatever 'this' is. I just hope to hell it's not because he's started seeing someone. Not someone else. Just someone. Someone luckier than me?



His jumper is still crumpled up in the corner of my room.

Fairly Odd Bumblefuckery

I have some very sad news.

The tall, handsome Australian who comes into the shop on a Sunday has a wife.

I think.

Have I mentioned Tall Australian before? I don't think I have. He's about 35 (age is but a number), always comes to look at the books (men who unashamedly read are my favourite) and we were going to be together forever and ever (planning a June wedding). But obviously now we're not.

In other news, I have none.

Nothing.

I had not heard from LB in 3 days until I texted him last night. And I was being so good at being cool and aloof for those 3 days. I don't get it though. Aren't people supposed to text each other every day? This was news to me. I'd asked one of the girls in my Lain class (aren't a pretentious intellectual twat) what I should do because he hadn't texted me in 3 days and she was like, Nancy that's nothing, that's fine.

And she should know. She's married. She is the first of my friends to be married. She's 21. It very much scares me. Not that I have a problem with people getting married young, that doesn't phase me at all. No it just scares me that they are mature enough to do so. I mean, you have to be pretty mature to make such a commitment to one person for the rest of your life?

I asked her if it scared her that she'd only ever be with this one person as the thought terrifies me. Instead, she said she was excited. Excited to spend all this time with him. They've been married for about a year and a half and had dated since she was 17.  I have immense respect for her. I can really see she just unashamedly loves him - and is in love with him. She also has a Harry Potter tattoo which is why I spoke to her in the first place.

I think that's what I'm a bit worried about - being in love with someone. When I dated Troy, I loved him. I knew I loved him as soon as I broke up with him. But it was the love that was just like deeply caring for someone. I don't want to say I loved him like a brother or anything, mainly because I have no siblings and anyone I know with brothers detest them, but I loved him.

I was round at his the other night because he had pizza and we were going to watch Lord of the Rings because to his utter dismay I have never seen it. And honestly, I could definitely be in a relationship with him again. I haven't told any of my friends this because they'd immediately be all, NOOOOOOOOO YOU DON'T NOOOOOOO etc. But I'm not saying I want to be with him again - not at all. Just that we work well together. He once said we're a bit like Cosmo and Wanda which insulted me for a bit because I always thought Wanda was a bit of a dick to Cosmo who was fucking awesome. But to be fair, it was a pretty damn good comparison.

If you idea who I am talking about, please take this time to educate yourself you uncultured swine:

Anyway, as I've said before somewhere probably, the reason I broke up with Troy was because I wasn't attracted to him. I couldn't sleep with him. I feel slightly weird writing that straight after Fairly Odd Parents videos.

Which brings us back to LB - I am attracted to him. But doubt I could be in a relationship with him - not that it's going in that direction in the slightest - because he's an arse. But an arse I appear to have fallen for slightly. Does that mean there's a possibility that I could in the future, be in love with him? Hm. Let's hope not.

Not even going to ask what I should do here as I am well aware I am just sitting in limbo with him. Ho hum. 

Please tell me some of you remember Fairly Odd Parents? It's not just me right? I'm not old yet?

Back To Reality Please Thank You

He's going to fuck me over.

I know it and I'm wavering.

Let's go back to my overjoyed last post.

So for Halloween, I always go slutty. I can't help it. I forget to think of a costume until a few days before and by then I have no money so I have to work with what I've got in my wardrobe and a super quick eBay order. One day I'll have planned ahead enough to go as something hilarious,

This year, I was a ringmaster - heeled boots, short shorts and black vest top already owned. Top hat and red jacket super quick eBay purchases. Cane from Flatmate's box of kinky shit. Nailed it.

Flatmate Number 1 and I went out on an impromptu bar crawl along Belmont Street and got wonderfully drunker than we meant to. We ended up at her favourite pub with all her scary-but-lovely punk friends. I had been texting LB all night (mainly about how hot I looked. I have no shame) and he eventually came to pick me up from the pub. I've phrased that wrongly. It sounded like I forced him to come get me - this was of his own accord!

So we walked back to his and the rest of the night is a bit of a blur. All I do remember is making him add me on Facebook so I could stalk his photos (he warned me that they were all just photos of him and various girls and holy fuck they were. It was ridiculous. Tiny Hippie Friend and I had a Skype stalking session last night) and also him telling me that yes, he like liked me.

I shall repeat: Him telling me that yes, he like liked me.

Cue excited last post.

Now there was no way I could misread(hear) that. Especially since he added 'but there's no point as I'm only here for another 9 months or so.' Which sounds like he was debating being in a Thing with me but realising it couldn't go long term. Right? RIGHT? Please tell me I'm not going insane. That definitely sounds like that. RIGHT??

Anyway, after a horrific walk of shame  stride of pride home (I was wearing his jumper so I didn't look like an absolute whore walking home but still managed to cheer people up with the knowledge that they weren't me. Talking to you woman in hairdressers who just stood at the window with a cup of coffee watching and laughing), I had to go to work.

The next day, he came round.

I'd asked him - being of 6'7" height - to come and take down my fairy lights because I couldn't reach. I mean, I technically could reach considering I was the one to put them up but it was a bit of a stretch... Anyway he got them down in 2 minutes whereas it would've taken me at least 20.

And he stayed till morning. And we talked. Whilst being sober. A bit of an unusual experience for me but there you go, first time for everything.

And I've realised that he is a bit of a dick.

And will therefore fuck me over.

Because despite the whole 'like liking' incident, I am very much certain that there will be another girl that he has given that impression to. And another on top of that. Not literally on top. Unless he was in some sort of threesome and told them both at the same time. Which is poor taste if you ask me.

He said his friend had described him as 'a posh cunt but a nice guy' and I can see that. He is extremely arrogant. He knows exactly what he's doing. He is well aware of the effect he has.

And there was a point when I could have genuinely stopped this. If I had asked him to leave at that moment, I could have been done with all of this. Yes, I would have been a bit miserable for a few days and 'what iffed' for a while but I would eventually have been done with him and moved on.

But of course I didn't do that.

I would like to point out that I didn't do that knowing full well what the consequences would be. This 'thing' would continue for a while longer - maybe until the end of the year - and all of a sudden he'd have a girlfriend or he'd just stop talking to me or he would do something that would leave me heartbroken and feeling like a first class twat.

So why did I do this? Is it because I didn't learn from TGI? Is it because I am seeing him through rose coloured glasses? Am I being a compete idiot again?

No.

TGI was a different type of dick. He didn't pretend. He didn't pretend that our 'thing' was anything special, that I was anything special. He didn't give me any bullshit and it was my fault that I got too reliant on him.

LB is the worst kind of dick. He will make you feel special and like you are the only one. He will make you feel this whilst practically admitting to your face that you are not the only one and in fact he will probably be going home to fuck his flatmate or one of the many other girls in his Facebook pictures.

Am I being a compete idiot again? Yes. But an idiot who is the worst kind of idiot. And idiot who knows exactly what she's getting into and how it will end. A self destructive idiot. But I'm glad I've realised this. It won't make it any easier or any less painful when the time comes but hopefully I can put on a brave face on the outside so he won't know he's hurt me.

I realise how unbelievably ridiculous this sounds. You're preparing yourself for the inevitable end and heartbreak? Why even bother?

That's what I don't know. I don't know why I'm bothering.

Does anyone know? Has this happened before to anyone? Is the overwhelming majority in the favour that I should stop this right now and get my head on straight?

I genuinely do need your help.