Undesirable No. 1

I have a confession.

I feel like shit.

Not just because I am desperately trying to stave off a cold and am popping paracetamol and vitamin C tablets like there's no tomorrow. No, I feel like shit appearance wise. Namely my face. Yeah my face sucks balls right now. Not literally. Ish.

I think I have had clear skin about twice this year. Each time lasting about a week. Then the dreaded blemishes start appearing. And I have tried everything. I've been on antibiotics, I've bought The Body Shop out of tea tree oil, I've bought La Roche Posay's super-acne-fighting-skin-saving-pixie-dust-making trio of products, I've tried crazy expensive products (sample size obvs, I am a reasonably poor student) and fuck all has worked. Fuck. All.

And it pisses me off. I don't usually wear that much make up but say on a night out, I'll shove a bunch of the stuff on. The lighting in da clubs is not the most flattering to say the least. But foundation and concealer will stick to the spots and make them even more obvious and dried out. And frankly, it just looks disgusting. 

And when you have clear skin, you feel so much more attractive. You don't really think about it when you have spot-less skin as you'll be fixating on something else wrong with you - we all do it. But once that clear skin is a distant memory, you'll wonder why you never woke up every day like, fuck yeah my face is as smooth as a baby's arse. 

Really, I feel like this:

(Any excuse for Harry Potter. Not even sorry).

Because yes, I like to look nice. Not just for myself but for other people. And sometimes, if I'm having a bad day, I appreciate a double take from a person on the street. I feel this is a tricky subject to approach but I'm just going to bosh on. My blog, my rules.

I am 6ft tall. I get looks. Usually from my face to my feet to make sure I'm not wearing heels. And I like these looks (that come from both men and women I hasten to add). Anybody would. But I hate them when I have a horrible blemished face. My self esteem (which is low at the best of times) just plummets. 

And when I do go out of a night with intentions to snare some unwitting male, I don't want to be worrying about my face scaring them off. I'd rather be worried about my dress riding up or falling off my, albeit very low, heels. Does this make sense? I don't think this makes sense.

At work on Sunday, I went without foundation or concealer and just played up my eyes to try and distract from my skin. One of my regular customers asked if there was something wrong with my face and had I been in a fight? It wasn't Tall Australian thankfully. He's a gentleman. 

Basically, what I'm saying is I just spent £50 on all natural skincare in a last ditch attempt to clean up my face. Although I did just come across this blog post from The Beauty Gypsy which I think sounds like a very scientific method and therefore must work and I should most definitely try it. Ahem:

Why sex is good for your skin. And hair. AND it’s all backed by science!

Anyway, I shall keep my spotty chin up and of course keep you updated on the progress of my skin. I know you're all dying to be kept in the loop. And you know you'll be informed if  The Beauty Gypsy's method works. If you have any tips, I would love to hear them. I am slowly going insane every time another blemish appears. Now let's go find me a Lawyer Boy...

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.

HE LIKES ME! LIKE, LIKE LIKES ME!

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

So, Friday

I'm just going to put this bluntly at the very beginning of this post instead of leaving it to the end as I usually do:

I like LB.

Hands up who had already realised this before I had?

Image via harrypotter.wikia.com

So, Friday.

PIC and I went out one last time as she was leaving early on Saturday morning when I went to work (cue me turning up to work slightly drunk and somehow getting away with it). We'd decided to go out just before midnight so hurried to put on clothes that weren't pyjamas and vaguely make our hair look halfway decent before leaving.

When we got to da club - the same da club as on Wednesday - we went straight to the bar and got a few drinks. We were nowhere near drunk enough for da club and, as it turned out, nowhere near drunk enough to witness what we did.

Having been in da club for approximately an hour and having spotted LB a few times on the dancefloor, we went to get another drink. LB had made no forms of acknowledging my presence there but I was positive he had seen me. And then, as we were walking away from the bar, I saw him kissing another girl.

That's it.

Just kissing another girl (one who was very much shorter than him, I may add. It looked ridiculous).

And I felt like I had been punched in the stomach. I genuinely stumbled back and could not bring myself to look away. It was one of the worst feelings I have ever experienced.

I told PIC what I'd seen and we quickly left to go home. I was trying so hard to keep it together. So, so hard. I am not one for crying unless I am drunk and I can assure you, I was not drunk at this point. But I couldn't help a few tears rolling down my face as we walked down the street. Public crying, again, is not my thing.

I texted my flatmate to tell her what had happened and why we were coming home early just to prepare her for the wailing mess that she would undoubtedly be confronted with. And wailing mess I was. As soon as we got in the door, I collapsed on the floor in the hall and started properly bawling. My flatmate came out of her room in a duvet and sat on the floor next to me and hugged me as did PIC. Then my flatmate started crying about something to do with a boy just as my other flatmate came rushing through the front door and into the bathroom and started throwing up. If you think about it, we are the perfect flatmates.

Once we'd calmed down a bit - and put Flatmate Number 2 into bed with a bin - we all cosied up in my room. I had a quadruple vodka cranberry and Flatmate Number 1's man thing was round singing happy birthday to me as he put a cymbal on her head and played it in time. It was wonderful. And also the cause for the 3 hours sleep we eventually had before having to get up for work/trains.

But after the aforementioned vodka cranberry, I decided it was a bloody marvellous idea to text LB and tell him precisely what I was thinking. For once, I managed to write something eloquent yet short and to the point. It went:

'Fuck you.'

Thank you, thank you, I am a lyrical genius.

He texted back right away claiming confusion. I replied that he knew I was there so what the dick was he doing kissing someone else? In so many words. He replied to say that no, it was not his best decision and was in a way, quite glad that I had seen and had this reaction. I was very confused. Pleased that I was acting like a jealous fuck? I asked him as much and he said yes, yes that was it because otherwise he didn't know how I really felt.

If all of that looked incredibly bumblefuckish and confusing then you are experiencing just what I felt at that current moment in time. I told him as much and asked him if he wanted me to spell out how I felt. He agreed and, with as much eloquence and aloofness as before, I told him that; 'I want you to like me. That's it.'

I now realise that I should have phrased it better because his reply in the morning of; 'Sorry, I do like you. And now I feel like a cunt x' confused me even further.

Like? Like me? Or like like me?

Words are the worst.

To cut an even longer story slightly shorter, we are now pretty much back to where we were before all this. Except he knows I like him and I am none the wiser about his feelings. Which is a bit shit and frustrating to be honest. I like things to be spelled out for me. This is a bloody cryptic crossword if ever there was one. Why are there cryptic crosswords anyway? What's the point in them? How do they even work? Who even writes them?

I know that it is nicer and easier to convince myself of the romance underlying these texts - even if it arises from reading between the lines and using my imagination to an extent of which I am not proud. It is easier to see things in the daylight where the shiner parts are illuminated and the darker truth is hidden away. But one cannot help but think, as darkness closes in, that once the magic of midnight and moonlight has faded, there is left only blackness. This blackness is the truth that you do not want to face. It is the horrible feeling that truth brings that you ignore time and time again because you want the stars back and you want the daylight. And you try and convince yourself that if you wish hard enough, the darkness of truth will disappear and be transformed into the light that you so desperately wanted.

Does that make sense? Does anyone know what I am talking about? Because that is what's going round my overtired mind at the moment. I know it sounds pretentious but I cannot for the life of me think of a way to describe the feeling using normal words.

Does anyone know what I should do? What do you think of this? Does he like like me? Or does he think I am a complete idiot?

Men are a nightmare. A bloody nightmare.