In Other News

Long time no talk chickadees! Baby I'm back!

Well back for a very short time as I have the most terrible internet that keeps cutting out every 5 minutes. It's like being back in the world of dial up.

Anyhoo, what's been happening? Tell me all!

I'm in Paris. Yep, I did it, fo realz. I am honest to God living in Paris like the artsy bohemian that I truly am... I can even see the Sacre Coeur from my window. Well, not my window. The window on the stairs up to my hovel garret. I live on the 7th floor in a studio apartment. Everything is in the one room which I am almost definitely positive is illegal. My toilet is not even a foot away from my cooker. Where food is made. That I will eat. I do not want shit particles invading my food but hey! That's what you get for deciding to come live in Paris!

What's worse than a tiny room to live in? A tiny room to live in with your 6'9 boyfriend! Yep, SD (hereafter known as R because SD is no longer a thing. Sad face. I know, life moves on, it's hard. And yes, I still get a kick out of anonymity) is staying with me. For most of the time. Right now he's away on a boat somewhere and I am bored out of my tits.

But it's all good. I still love him, even though I am acutely aware of what his poo smells (and looks) like. Although who am I kidding, we crossed that bridge in about week 2 of our relationship.

Honestly, in all the excitement of coming to Paris, I'd completely forgotten I'd have to look after children.

Good God. Children.

I hate them.

I mean yeah they can be cute and whatnot and yes I have a pretty cushy deal in that I only get them 20 hours a week but oh my good lord I cannot stand them. They whine and cry and hit and I just do not have the temperament for that kind of bullshit.

But hey - I get the chance to live in Paris rent free and bill free! I even get some of my food paid for! And for minimal work! That's the dream! Right?! Right!?... Right?

Nah.

I am bored. And unsettled. And yes, also a whiny over privileged bitch no doubt.

I know, I know, I was all over leaving uni for the bright lights of the Eiffel Tower but now things have changed again. Yes, I couldn't believe I was living in Paris for the first month. But now (2 months in) I've had a change of heart.

The thing is, to my ditzy fuck of a mind, I want to settle down. I want to live with R and have somewhere we can call our own and put our stamp on. I want a big fat cat. I want to be able to make friends and just put roots down somewhere. I'm craving this so much that I'm losing sense of what this whole Paris thing was to me. Aren't I a complete twat?

On the plus side, I've found a cat cafe. Like, an actual cafe with cats in it. Real cats. I know, be still my beating heart. Fucking love cats.

Look. It's all cute and shit.

There's a cat in there. I know. Best day ever.

Clearly I have things to think about but hey, I've rediscovered my blog and will continue to write my mindless babble about meaningless things.

But not cats. Cats are far from meaningless.

But seriously, fill me in. What's been happening? Also am I being an idiot wanting to leave Paris already even though it's not that shit?

All I Do Is Win

You know why I haven't been posting anything on here regularly?

I'm happy.

I am so happy right now and almost everything is going right for once.

So let me tell you about my pelvic exam.

Well really, it's the only thing that's going wrong. My body is rejecting itself and being a pain in the arse which has eventually evolved into me being fingered by a tiny birdwoman doctor and prescribed antibiotics that mean I can't drink alcohol for 2 whole weeks.

No alcohol for 2 entire weeks, 14 days. And 14 nights. It's not even like it's just recommended that I don't drink alcohol. If I do, I will make myself violently ill and wishing for death. But even still... I've just learned how to use the emoji things (is that the right word?) on my phone and the red wine glass was my favourite. Now it's followed by a broken heart.

Oh! Speaking of alcohol, I managed to go out in style with what is now my last occasion with wine. SD drove me back to Aberdeen last night. I bloody love a roadtrip. In fact, this is what I'm like on roadtrips (Shrek the Musical 4evs):

I may or may not have sung this multiple times much to SD's annoyance. But he was the one to challenge me to drink an entire bottle of white wine before we got to Perth. So in about an hour. Anything to shut me up about how my insides were falling out. Really, I think he was more interested in getting me to sing -as da youths say - my jam.

My jam is a song that is very roadtrip appropriate. If SD looks like he's tiring at all, I will steer the music away from my 80s playlist (Holding Out For A Hero is our personal fave. Mainly because once I've had wine, I will look at him all lovey and say that he's my hero. Anything to get him to stop madly waving his arms about to the song whilst DRIVING ON A MOTORWAY) and I will play my jam. It is important to recognise that whenever said jam comes on, one must hold ones hands up to shush everyone whilst saying 'dis ma jam, dis ma jam'. It really befits a classic white girl such as myself.

Anyway. Dis ma jam:

I even attempt to rap. Not gonna lie, I think SD fell a little bit in love with me when he first heard it.

And SD himself? Everything's going fucking amazingly. We've got a bit of dysfunctional long distance thing going as he's living in Glasgow at the moment and only has the weekends free. I'm obviously in Aberdeen and only have 2 days during the week free. There's a lot of car rides for him and train journeys for me but we're making it work.

We're going to Paris for 3 days at the end of May. Hold all your romantic horses though. I only asked him as an afterthought... I'm going to hopefully meet up with my new host family for when I legitimately move to Paris in August. This is a thing that is happening. I am going to live in Paris for the foreseeable future. I know. Pinch me now.

Leaving university was the greatest idea I have ever had. That and going to a log cabin for 2 nights with SD. Fo realz. Just look at it:

We played Scrabble in front of the fire. SD discovered how competitive I was. I denied him sex until I won a game. Apparently being an ex-English literature student doesn't mean you're good at Scrabble. He got 56 points in one go. We bought Scrabble when we got home. We each have a game in our respective flats. Bloody love Scrabble.

We were legit in the middle of nowhere (Dalavich on the West Coast of Scotland if you're interested) so the sky got pitch black at night and there's no streetlights for miles so you have no light pollution. We went and stood on the balcony with mojitos (pretending we weren't in the freezing cold) and looked up at the stars. Romantic as fuck thank you very much.

An actual wood burning stove. A real one. We were properly shite at lighting it. I'm just useless and was too busy drinking wine. SD just really wanted to soak a log in Redex and let it do its thing. I eventually let him. We didn't even burn anything down. We did good considering we were in a place made of wood.

So yes, the log cabin was one of my greater ideas. But leaving university is a close second. I am so much happier. I've even forgotten I even went to university. A huge weight has been lifted from my mind and I know I made the right decision. 

And Paris is sorted! Properly actually sorted! I have a job! In Paris! What even?!

So there we go. The reason I haven't been writing on this blog much is because I haven't had anything to complain about. No man dramas or anything. SD makes me so happy. I'm so glad I got drunk and horny one night in November and decided to text the very tall man in the dinosaur onesie from Halloween.

We're planning to go away on a roadtrip round Europe in Summer. We'll just keep going until his car falls apart. Various bits are already falling off it and I'm pretty sure he bribed the MOT guy to make sure it passed. I'm so excited. 

If it weren't for the minor issue of the pelvic exam; everything would be pretty damn amazing right now. And really, that's a very minor issue. 

Why I Ignored Everyone And Dropped Out Of University

I am officially a lady of leisure.

Yep, I ignored everyone's advice and dropped out of university yesterday. I am currently employed 11 hours a week and I have no solid plans for the near or far flung future.

And right now, I'm pretty okay with it.

Don't get me wrong, I'll have a breakdown about whether I made the right decision and what I'm going to do with my life at some point soon. I'm prepared for that. I have prepared everyone else in my life for that. It's fine, we'll work our way through it.

Dropping out of university is scarily easy. You just fill out a form, hand it to the nice Australian lady at the desk and you're done. Bosh. No longer a student. It's quite useful to bring your enormously tall boyfriend with you for moral support and to put up with your incessant 'I've just left uni' mumblings for the next 5 hours.

So why did I do it? Why did I drop out of a free degree that wasn't going to leave me with crippling amounts of student loans? Why did I drop out with no solid plan for what I was going to do next?

Because I was unhappy. I was unhappy with my course and I was unhappy attending uni. I wasn't depressed or anything, let's just clear that one up. I just wasn't cut out for it. And, despite what everyone else said, I thought: why the fuck do something I am unhappy with?

So you know what I'm going to do?

I'm going to move to Paris.

I am going to become an au pair and move to Paris. This isn't set in stone at all as I've only been talking to a couple of potential families for a week or so. But I'm so excited. Paris! I fucking love Paris.

Right I am bloody shattered so I need to go the fuck to sleep. Got a busy day of doing nothing tomorrow. I will write a (vaguely) more coherent post soon.

My Engagement Story

I got engaged on Saturday night.

Okay, admittedly it was fake so we could try and get free drinks but it was magical all the same.

So SD finally came back on Saturday morning and we met up for drinks once I'd finished work. My friend at work and I had come up with an ingenious idea to test out whether tequila gave you a hangover or not. So I had reluctantly agreed to try out the experiment. Which was basically to drink tequila all night. Two tequila shots at 8pm? But of course. However the bartender was so not on board with this. Two tequila shots at 8pm? She was a dick.

Naturally, during the entire course of the night, people were coming up to SD to ask him about his height and my height and get pictures of him. He's used to this - he hates it, but he deals with it so well - whereas it still shocks me a bit. However whilst he was getting photos, I was bonding with the women who wanted them. I'm going to put this out there right now: he is a cougar magnet. They adore him. It's one of the greatest spectacles I've ever witnessed.

This one woman was saying to us what a great couple we made. She then caught sight of my left hand, shrieked a little bit and asked if we were engaged. I usually wear two antique rings on my wedding finger because, although I don't really like wearing anything on said finger, they are just too damn pretty. And they don't fit any other finger.

So obviously, I said yes. I said yes we were engaged. We came up with some whole story about how it happened and how long we'd been together. By this time there were a group of middle aged women clustered around us, wanting to hear about our true love. They eventually dispersed and SD and I got our drinks. Then I turned to him and said, 'do you think if you actually proposed to me, we'd get free drinks?' The possibility of free alcohol? He was all over this plan.

We decided to see how many bars in which he could propose and try and score us free alcohol. We even pinky promised on it and everything. So we made our way to Vodka Rev. We got some drinks at the bar and then SD told me to wait there for a moment and he disappeared into the crowd. When he came back, he wouldn't tell me where he'd been and we walked over to a table. I had already given him one of the rings from my wedding finger - the most engagement-y one - and had put the other in my pocket. Then all of a sudden, the music died down.

As the DJ turned the music off, SD got down off his chair and bent down onto one knee. There was a crowd gathering around us. Girls were starting to squeal. People were taking pictures. And then he asked me to marry him. I said yes, he put the ring on my finger, we kissed and everyone cheered. It was the most ridiculous thing that has ever happened. It was bloody brilliant. I spent the next 20 minutes talking wedding plans with a girl on her hen party and was hugged by countless other girls.

And yep, we got our free (v posh) sparkling wine. All in the bucket with ice and everything.

Once we'd gotten drunk enough, we went to one of da clubs and managed to get free VIP entry because we were newly engaged. SD had even had someone take a video on his phone of the proposal as proof. I'll have to get him to send it to me. I mean, it was the most magical moment of my life, I need to have evidence it happened.



In other news, my boyfriend's pretty damn awesome.

Why Right Now At University Kinda Fucking Sucks

Now I wouldn't call this drunk blogging as such... Maybe we'll just stick with tipsy. Does an entire bottle of wine and an oddly delicious mixture of tequila (obvs), peach schnapps and apple and raspberry juice count as tipsy? We'll work with what we've got.

Here's the honest to God, actual, true as fuck deal. I have literally no idea what is going on in my life right now. So I am going to ramble at you. Bear with.

So I mentioned in my last post (possibly, who can be fucked checking?) that I wasn't sure about university. I am studying English literature and it's just not right for me. To put it mildly. I cannot think the way they want me to think. To put it simply; right now, I have more of a mathematic brain than a literature brain. At this current moment in time, I am much more suited to the way of thinking that involves rights and wrongs. I am not down with theological essays debating the merits of Frankenstein.

But this never used to be the case! I was always fucking awesome at English. English was my thing. I was going to successfully move out of a small town and go to university and be the greatest thing that had ever come out of my said small town. That was what I was kinda destined to be. Ish. So maybe not the greatest thing. Just a thing that didn't stay in the small town and get pregnant by whatever small town boy I went to high school with. I mean, seriously. It is utterly ridiculous the amount of pregnancies that have occurred in my hometown at my age. About 10% of my year got pregnant at around 17. That's about 20 girls. In a town of 8,000 that's a hell of a lot. This is why I'm so pleased I got out of there.

But now I'm in Aberdeen. I'm at university like I was supposed to be. I'm halfway through my 2nd year. And it fucking sucks. Because I have lost all motivation and general interest in my course. I do not want to be at university right now.

I think of it like... You're in a job that you hate for another 2 years. And you know you can leave this job and find another one in a completely different career. You know it's not the most sensible thing to do; leave your job for another uncertain job but it's what will make you happy.

I cried non stop for about 3 hours tonight as I was stressing like I have never stressed before over university and my future. My mother wants me to stay on and do one more year so I can come out with a degree. It makes sense. That is the sensible thing to do. Nowadays, employers look for degrees, regardless of what they're in. But the idea of even one more year at university terrifies me. Right now, I hate university. I have absolutely no interest in staying but I thought that yes, the sensible thing to do would be to continue on and do my 3rd year.

But I cannot bear that thought right now. I honestly cannot bear the thought of even staying on an extra week. I do not want to stay at something that makes me unhappy. I feel I am young enough (and able enough) to make the decision to not continue something that makes me unhappy. And I honestly am unhappy. I am not the type of person to get stressed about something. But I have been so unbelievably stressed these past few weeks that I don't know how much longer I can handle it for.

If you asked me honestly where I'd like to be right now, I would tell you: Paris. Paris is where I would like to be right now. I have been to Paris once and I fell in love with it. I could see myself living there. My friends could see me living there. And hopefully my family could see me living there too. I would love to have a tiny garret apartment up by the Moulin Rouge. I would love to be able to take picnics by the Eiffel Tower. I would love to wander through the antique markets and stop off to see the view at the Sacre Coeur. I feel that Paris is kind of a part of me. Is that very weird and white girl of me? I don't think so. I think it feels like home.

So I would, quite frankly, like nothing more than to leave university right now. To work in Aberdeen for a year and a half and save up some money. To become... I don't know... An au pair in Paris. Yes, these are very romantic dreams at the moment. I know I haven't yet thought through the logistics. But if it's something that would make me happy, then isn't it worth it?

And Mum, I know it's not the sensible thing to do. But if I have to stay another year at university, I think I will go utterly insane. I will lose what little sense of self I have left. I always told you to let me make my own mistakes and I am very much aware that this could be a huge mistake. But I am sensible. And I could deal with the consequences. And right now, I would much prefer to be happy than crying my eyes out alone at the kitchen table.

Also, SD? He is perfect. He has been perfect. He is just... I don't even know. He's the real deal. I can envision a proper, legitimate future with this man. I could honestly, at some point in the very near future, be in love with this man. Right now, he is keeping me sane. I have never felt like this before but it feels so right and natural. And he will be back onshore in approximately 24 hours. I cannot fucking wait.

What do you think? Do you think I should be sensible? Or should I think that life is fucking short and I should damn well live it? Or am I being a complete idiot in every single way? I need your help... Please help.

In Other News

Today has already started off to be a rather bloody good day. So, instead of writing my essay, I'm going to make you read shit. And then I'll start my essay. 

In other news, I think SD is my soulmate. Why? Because we both secretly (not so secretly now) watch Air Crash Investigation and find it the most incredible programme ever. If that's not soulmate material, I don't know what is.

I dig him. He romances so good.

Aberdeen was looking rather marvellous the other day when it wasn't grey and miserable. This was when I was being a lonely wifey before the dog turned up.

#nofilter. That's what the thing is right? Also SD is on one of those teeny tiny boats. Which are not so teeny tiny close up. Obviously. Also I filtered the fuck out of this picture on my Instagram... I am utterly shit at Instagram but I try. Also I do not understand hashtags for the life of me,

My flatmate baked biscuits the other day. I feel that one of the reasons I live with her is for her baking. Also the fact that she buys me wine. Anyway, she made a biscuit in the shape of a boat. And drew a tiny icing dinosaur on it. Just for me.

Yaaaasss good quality photos. But fo realz. It's SD on his boat. Come ON. 

And finally, because I really need to start essay writing, I was an awesome flatmate and took all the bins out this morning. Also I was an awesome adult because I actually remembered when the bins were getting collected. I picked out the first pair of shoes I found because I wasn't going out to the bin in bare feet and unwittingly turned into a fashion blogger.

I think you'll find that all good fashion bloggers pose with their bins. Also if anyone's interested, these are my Emergency Summer Wedding Heels. I found them on sale for £5 a few months ago and obviously bought them because you never know when you might be invited to a summer wedding. I have never been to a summer wedding and nor shall I in the foreseeable near future. But that doesn't matter because when I do get an invite, I will already have my shoes. So if anyone is going to a summer wedding and needs a date... I am very much prepared.

Now fuck off and let me do my essay.

Oh I Can't Be Fucked Thinking Of A Title..

..So sue me.

I get way too emotionally attached.

I always thought I was all aloof and cool and giving no fucks whatsoever about the various men coming in and out of my life.

But TGI unexpectedly popped up on my Facebook newsfeed just now. I'm not friends with him on Facebook so it's not like this is a regular occurrence. But some photos of him and a bunch of other people I used to know in first year turned up. And of course I went through them. Who isn't a little bit self destructive?

And I cried.

I mean, I know I'm hormonal at the moment and have just watched a very stressful episode of Grey's Anatomy; I'm aware of this. But something just got to me. Don't get me wrong, it's not like it was regret or 'the one that got away' type of crap. It was more like... Melancholy.. Memories? Remembering? I don't know. It was a weird fucker of a feeling.

However I am liking SD more and more as time goes by. And I mean, time has really fucking gone by. It's been exactly a month since I've seen him. An entire month of him being on a ship in the middle of the sea. But I would honestly, right now, consider doing an Ariel and giving my voice to the sexy badass that is Ursula, just so I could have SD back right now.

I need hugs, tequila and someone to stroke my hair and tell me I'm pretty. Also he smells good so that's also a plus.

It's ridiculous - he's only a few miles away. I can walk to the beach and see his boat. I went to the beach the other day and gazed out at it like a lonely wife. For about 30 seconds. Because I got distracted by a dog. And forgot all about SD. 

Anyway, I am going to hunt for something vaguely chocolatey in the kitchen (do not judge if it turns out to be Baileys) and then snuggle up in my lonely, empty bed. Although let's be honest, SD doesn't even fit in my bed. He has to contort himself into weird angles while I just sleep blissfully unaware... Maybe I should take a jigsaw to the footboard at the end of my bed?

Unnecessary Life Catch Up

What up fuckers! I am in a surprisingly good mood. It finally feels like Friday (I know it is Friday but sometimes Fridays don't even feel like Fridays and I'm pretty sure Wednesday went on for about three days). I have done the grand total of absolutely fuck all this week. As ever. In fact, the only reason I might go to my Literature class today is if Sophie wakes up in time to dye my hair.

I am hormonal and full of the worst cold in the world possibly ever. I'm pretty sure I have sneezed roughly six million times this morning alone. My body is showing the signs of my hormonal stress eating but I have decided I do not give a flying fuck. I can work on my thighs when the rest of my life gets its shit together. Also I read this which was linked from Hey Natalie Jean (possibly one of my favourite blogs in the entire universe and I wish I had an effortlessly cool Brooklyn apartment, adorable kid and manly ginger husband) and it made me feel better about my Australia-sized thighs.

I've been spending my days having Grey's Anatomy marathons. And updating SD on what's been happening in said marathons. Not that he's ever asked or is interested at all. But since I appear to be having a bit of a moment about gorgeous, rugged ginger army doctors... He has to as well. Right?

Ugh. Just look at that manly gingerness. JUST LOOK.

Speaking of SD, I know you're dying to know what's been happening... 

I decided to not be a dick. I stopped texting TBB and instead drank wine and tequila last night (not mixed together; even I'd draw the line somewhere) and messaged SD. TBB was just a minor panic moment and I'm over it now. Someone else will just have to appreciate his teddy bear-ness because I have a very tall navigation officer that I would like to hang onto thank you very much.

We still haven't found a flat yet. Not SD and I. Calm your pants. I know no one really puts up flats six months in advance but I always have high hopes every time I go online to look. I'd just feel so much more secure if we had one, you know? Sophie and I are getting really excited though. Sophie's very much looking forward to the prospect of having a double bed. I am very much looking forward to having a garden gnome by the front door. We were in Morrisons yesterday and there were gnomes for sale because Spring and shit and I really want one. I said I'd get Sophie one for her birthday in March. Like a joint birthday present... That I would slowly commandeer. And they're hilarious. You can get some right fucking dumb ones. I love them.

I want one like that. I'd call him Ivan. In a past life, he would have been a gymnast

.I'm working this weekend as usual and then it's back to uni... And essay writing week is starting. God, the fucking horror. I am so bored of uni. And my course. I mean, you take an English Literature course because you like reading and then you realise that you've actually got to analyse why Shakespeare mentioned a crow in Act 2 Scene 3 of Macbeth and then a dove two pages later and if this has significance in that one tiny line in Scene 6 and does it have an impact on the world as we know it. My mind just doesn't work like that! I just think, like.. No. No it fucking doesn't. He probably just wanted to talk about the birds because it was relevant to whatever the fuck he was thinking. I hate Shakespeare.

I would like nothing more than to just be lying on a beach somewhere warm right now. Preferably somewhere in Greece. Maybe with the cast of Mamma Mia! performing off in the distance. Or just Colin Firth. I bloody love Colin Firth.

I shall repeat: I bloody love Colin Firth.

Also when looking at gnomes online (don't you start judgey judging - I have no shame), I came across this. This person knows what the fuck is up. I only wish I'd thought of it first.

Have a good weekend, losers.

Lord Dick of Dickington

So here's the deal.

I told SD that I wanted to sleep with TBB. And he got all kinds of mad and sad.

Still not over the Lee Pace thing. This may continue for quite some time.

He basically told me that he was thinking he should be ending... Whatever we had going on. But he couldn't because he liked me too much. He hoped that this was just a one off and he would be back soon so hopefully I wouldn't have to think about other guys.

I know right. He's so cool. And I'm an actual arsewank. 

And I know, I know, I know that I should not let this one get away. Because I can actually like, envision a future with this thing. I really want him to be back onshore so I can confirm this fact.

However...

I got a drunk text from TBB last night. I love drunk texts. Drunk texts are my favourite. Anyway, the text in question was something along the lines of 'I would very much like to have the sex with you my fair maiden at a time around about now.'*

*Not a direct quote.

And I've been thinking about it.

Yep, you read that correctly. I am Lord Dick of Dickington. 

Why the fuck would I be thinking about meeting TBB for sex when clearly I like like SD and he like likes me? What is even wrong with me at this current moment in time? Because there must be something.

Am I scared? Is that it? Am I scared of committing to SD? Cos I kinda feel like this Thing will be a Proper Thing if I don't screw up the Thing by letting TBB's thing anywhere near my thing.

Which I won't, right? I'll see sense, won't I? SD will come back and all my worries about everything will just happily vanish...

Ugh, maybe I should just eat my thoughts for TBB? I mean, it's Pancake Day, I'm allowed to put copious amount of sugar into my body. I think that's what I'll do. Only until SD comes back and rights all the wrongs. 

Oh dear. I'll keep you updated.

Tequila Made Me Write This

Tequila also made me write 'right' in that title. That's what we're dealing with here.

Welcome to drunk blogging part fuck knows. It has been too many times.

So here's the deal.

It's Valentine's Day.

I was very much prepared to spend the entirety of tonight with sparkling wine, tequila, chocolates and Grey's Anatomy. For the most part, that has been true. But what I wasn't counting on was a parcel from SD. He'd sent for it yesterday morning from the middle of the North Sea and it had arrived whilst I'd been at work today. Inside the parcel was a box of fancy chocolates and a Latin For Beginners textbook. There have been countless times I've been texting him telling him I'd missed my Latin classes. And he sent me that textbook.

I'm sorry but I mean... Isn't that just...

He sounds bloody perfect, right?

Well. I think he does.

So then, pray tell, why am I texting TBB about how I am alone in my flat and wondering if he was wanting to come round?

 I know, I know.

Collective disapproval at my general tequila sluttiness.

But I like SD. I really do! He makes me smile, he makes me laugh, I miss him when he's not here...

So why am I being a dick and trying to sleep with TBB??

I feel it's like it was with Troy (lol Troy #tbt - is that a thing? I feel so old) around this time... I feel that SD might be Troy in this case and TBB might be TGI. Fuck me, I do love some codenames, I really do.

Am I freaking out? Am I freaking out that this could be a possible (shudder) relationship? I suck at relationships! I broke up with Troy the day before we went on holiday together! 

But I really, really like SD. I mean, I like him enough to tell him I like him after only really knowing him properly for a weekend... I hate my honesty sometimes.

But I'm still trying to convince TBB to come over after he finishes work...

Tequila really does make me slutty.

I love tequila.

You know what else I love? Lee Pace in Pushing Daisies. Please tell me someone else knows of this most fucking fabulous TV show and this gorgeously eyebrowed man....?

God just look at him.

I think he's my dream man.

I do.

I would.

Man, if I could...

You know I'll update you tomorrow on whatever presumably godawful decision I make. I can only hope, for my sake, it ends in sex. It's been too long. TMI? (Is that still a thing? Again, old. Do you remember the TV show TMI? Was it CBBC? CITV? Shut up now, Nancy.) Anyway, TMI about my sex life? You are reading the wrong blog...

Okay, Who Called It?

Well fuck me sideways and call me Wendy - it was a good thing I was sitting down when this occurred.

Allow me to set the scene: around 8pm on a typical Thursday night and I am sitting on my bed on Facebook to various friends (because I am, as one likes to call it, a popular fuck) having been out for girly drinks beforehand. See, flatmate and I have had a horrid ballsfest of a shitty week so far. Landlords and flats have been arsewanks, she's coming down with a horrible cold and I'm considering dropping out of uni (I'll get to that another time).

Now, you all know Teddy Bear Bartender from such hilarious misadventures as 2 posts ago and, since I had been having a shitty week and SD is still floating around the North Sea somewhere, I had arranged to meet him. Sophie was not impressed. Not impressed because she knows I like SD. And that, even though TBB was all cute and teddy bear-like, I didn't really want to see him. Mainly because his spelling is so utterly atrocious. I know, I know, it's such a dick thing for me to say but honest to God, I have never seen such terrible spelling. It pained me to look at his texts. God I'm a pretentious twat.

However, I told Sophie that I was stressed and shit and I wasn't sure when SD was back and I didn't even know how SD felt and I didn't want to be the idiot that was way more into the guy than he was into me. So after girly drinks, I went back to the flat to make my face look semi decent as I was going to meet TBB in the next hour or so. And I went onto the Facebooks because I am a youth and that is how we do. I had a message from SD and as I was replying, I somehow told him that I was going to see TBB... Somehow. I somehow told him. Basically, I am very, very honest. And for some reason I trust him. And feel no need to lie to him. So I told him.

And now, allow me to elaborate with the medium of screenshot. I bloody love me some screenshotting. Saves me so much typing time here.

So here, I had just told SD that I was meeting TBB. I told him I was sorry but he didn't know when he'd be back and I needed someone.

And he said he was disappointed. Did you see it? Disa-fucking-ppointed. Which is why I said I could cancel. Although yes, well observed how reluctant I sounded about cancelling. Please go shove a cucumber up your arse.

This is basically useless information for you. I was screenshotting the whole conversation. Deal with it. 

Although note how he told me to go and basically sleep with TBB. Right? Right?!

Okay yeah, then I was a dick again. 

Ooooooh I cut off half the message!!! What's it going to say??!!!

So I do my truth bomb thing. AND THEN...

DID YOU READ IT????!!!!

'But then, I don't know, I just kinda fell for you...'

CAN WE ALL JUST...

HE LIKES ME!!!!! LIKE, LIKE LIKES ME!!!!!!! (Lol flashback to LB ye olde times of yore...) (Actually less lol) (More pain) (Men are arsewanks).

BUT SERIOUSLY!!!!!

So, needless to say I cancelled TBB. In fact, I went so far as to tell him that I was in A&E with a friend who had broken her leg. Because I am a dick. As we have established many a time. I am a major bumhole.

I'm going to go squeal a bit more.

I have the most ridiculous smile on my face right now.

I disgust myself.

Tall Australian & The Rest

So it's properly over with Tall Australian.

It was a clean and mature way to end it and I don't even know why I was keeping him hanging on. So goodbye, Stewart. You were kind of weird but had the potential to be a fairytale prince. Maybe work on that a bit.

In other news... I like SD.

God, I know right. Quelle surprise, eh?

I've been trying to fight the fact that I like him. It's ridiculous. I've barely known him (properly) 3 months and we've only seen each other in person twice - I'm not counting Halloween when we met. The counting starts from December onwards when we started texting. But I mean, I genuinely do like him. I can't deny it.

He's kind, he's sweet, he's funny, he gets me. I don't want to kick him out in the early hours of the morning. I want to wake up to him. And that's really saying something coming from me. But I do. I want to have lazy Sunday mornings. I want to get up and have coffee with him. This is all very strange and unnatural for me.

It's not like it was with LB. It's not unhealthy. It's not over my head. I think he's going to be good for me. Speaking of LB, I was asking him what he was going to do when he graduates. Turns out he's going to do his masters in Amsterdam. And will be leaving in June/July time. June or July. That seems so far away. Not because I want him to stay - quite the opposite. I want him gone now. I don't want his presence hanging round here. I want to know that he's getting on with his life somewhere that's miles away from me. I don't want to be wary of nights out in case I see him. I don't want to be looking round the uni campus whenever I (rarely) attend lectures. I'm tired of it all. I'm tired of myself not getting over this. I'm tired of going to the fridge for wine whenever I've had a conversation with him.

Okay, maybe that was a bit too harsh. I will never be tired of wine.

Oooooh he just messaged me. He asked me why I was asking when he'd be leaving and if I was just after his flat. I replied saying that, nah I just wanted to know when I'd finally be rid of him. He replied to that with 'ouch that hurts'. AND THINK OF ALL THE POTENTIAL ANSWERS I COULD GIVE. All the one liners relating to how he hurt me etc etc. Oh if only I had the courage. Though it'd probably be a terrible idea, wouldn't it? Yes, most likely a terrible, terrible idea.

On another note: I bought a shit tonne of new pants yesterday. It was so exciting. I mean, seriously about 15 pairs. Not the ones that come in packs either. I actually took the time to choose proper nice ones. And then got to throw out some of my old ones. It can't just be me that gets excited about this. New pants!

Wore a new pair today. Felt invincible.

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.

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?

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...

Jackhammering And Otters

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

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

But on the subject of beds - Tall Australian.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Comical genius right here.