I'm still stressed.
I hate being unemployed. That sounds stupid no one LIKES to be unemployed but I physically require myself to be busy at all times. I used to think I was the perfect example of lazy (my bed and I have a very intimate relationship which in the past has seen frequent weekday naps) but according to my family and friends this is far from true. 'Oh god you not working. That's a nightmare and a half...you need to be busy. You're abi, you are always busy' my best friend moaned. I hate Jeremy Kyle, I hate wedding shows and I hate those smug sofa dwellers on This Morning. I was just not destined to be a stay at home person.
The thing is I am being picky. If it bothered me that much I could easily get my old regent street job back or work in my local bar or even take part in more work experience but I simply have upped my standards. I no longer want to make coffee for other people, want to have a temporary pass that needs to be handed in at the end of each week and be ignored by all other members of staff. I want to get paid for my manual labour, paid for my writing or styling or even my sarcastic input. So I sit here day in day out (okay it has been two weeks but it does feel like an eternity) applying to job after job after job after job.
At first it was just very casual cover letters and now...well that friend of a friend of a friend of a friend who knows someone who knows someone, well I am debating getting in touch with them and yes I will no doubt end up begging them for work.
It's not all bad however. This unemployed process has made me realise what a good impression my hard work has made on my family. My Grandma called me to say that she felt I desperately deserved a break as I had worked hard the last three years (not necessarily true I do remember a sick day that was taken so I could sit by David Lloyd Pool for the afternoon).
I decided to occupy all this time so I booked myself a few holidays... So I'm off to Amsterdam this week for a long weekend to see my best friend (and now my love life is feeling particularly sorry for itself perhaps the Australian barman who made his intentions very obvious last time I went over). Then on to Miami for a few weeks. Yes Miami. Yes I am unemployed and can still fork out for Miami. This my friends is the joy of hard work. Eventually even in your darkest moments there are some benefits and I for one plan on sitting on the beach with my moijto safe in the knowledge that my blackberry will not be recieving any emails from work.
Tuesday 29 June 2010
Monday 28 June 2010
Befriending My Mugger
Just thought I'd tell you one of my famous tales from university...
SO my first week of University in Oxford (no before you get excited Brookes aka The Early Learning Centre not Oxford) I decided to go out with some new friends to a club in town. After having one too many drinks as one tends to do at the beginning of university I proceeded to lose my wallet. A friend of mine then asked to borrow my mobile which I happily gave her. Dancing around the club for a bit I realised that I had managed to lose all of my friends. Angry and drunk I started to walk home...barefooted. Girls you can understand how painful it is to wear stupidly high heels all night. So there I was drunk, phoneless and walletless walking barefooted in the direction which I thought was home.
After walking for forty minutes I soon realised that I was well and truly lost. Not only that but I had managed to tread on a piece of glass which had firmly lodged itself into my foot. Hobbling along I entered a council estate where a young guy on a bike rode up and stopped in front of me.
'Give me your stuff'. I looked at him, hesitated and then burst out crying. I guess he was not suspecting this as he looked at me and enquired what on earth I was so upset about. 'I've got no money, or my phone and I'm lost.' To my surprise the guy got off his bike walked over to me and enquired where I lived. He then told me he would walk me back to where I needed to go, and if that wasn't surprising enough after watching me attempt to roll in the rain took my baccy off me and proceeded to roll my cigarette for me.
On the walk home my attempted mugger admitted that he had just assumed me to be a posh Oxford girl, and apologised for making such a quick judgement. He walked me to my home and took my phone number. The next morning I recieved a call from him to ask if I had managed to get into my house okay and to make sure that everything was alright. Needless to say a very peculiar friendship had formed and during the remaining years at university whenever I bumped into him and his 'crew' up to mischief on the Cowley Road he used to wink at me and wave. My friends would look at this curious friendship and ask me who sed guy was and I would reply 'Oh him? That's just my attempted mugger.'
SO my first week of University in Oxford (no before you get excited Brookes aka The Early Learning Centre not Oxford) I decided to go out with some new friends to a club in town. After having one too many drinks as one tends to do at the beginning of university I proceeded to lose my wallet. A friend of mine then asked to borrow my mobile which I happily gave her. Dancing around the club for a bit I realised that I had managed to lose all of my friends. Angry and drunk I started to walk home...barefooted. Girls you can understand how painful it is to wear stupidly high heels all night. So there I was drunk, phoneless and walletless walking barefooted in the direction which I thought was home.
After walking for forty minutes I soon realised that I was well and truly lost. Not only that but I had managed to tread on a piece of glass which had firmly lodged itself into my foot. Hobbling along I entered a council estate where a young guy on a bike rode up and stopped in front of me.
'Give me your stuff'. I looked at him, hesitated and then burst out crying. I guess he was not suspecting this as he looked at me and enquired what on earth I was so upset about. 'I've got no money, or my phone and I'm lost.' To my surprise the guy got off his bike walked over to me and enquired where I lived. He then told me he would walk me back to where I needed to go, and if that wasn't surprising enough after watching me attempt to roll in the rain took my baccy off me and proceeded to roll my cigarette for me.
On the walk home my attempted mugger admitted that he had just assumed me to be a posh Oxford girl, and apologised for making such a quick judgement. He walked me to my home and took my phone number. The next morning I recieved a call from him to ask if I had managed to get into my house okay and to make sure that everything was alright. Needless to say a very peculiar friendship had formed and during the remaining years at university whenever I bumped into him and his 'crew' up to mischief on the Cowley Road he used to wink at me and wave. My friends would look at this curious friendship and ask me who sed guy was and I would reply 'Oh him? That's just my attempted mugger.'
Thursday 24 June 2010
My Dragon's Den Project
I've decided on a new concept to deal with relationships/dating. It's an idea which would be easily accepted by Dragon's Den...if they were all women!
I have made every mistake in the dating book. It is because of this that my best guy mate created 'The Good Spoon Guide'- a dating guide with a list of rules which I have since followed religiously. (i.e. no double texting etc etc)
This however does not always work. I am a great example of this. Therefore my idea is that I hire a body double who goes on the dates for me. The date is recorded and afterwards I decide who I would like to see again.
Basically the concept as a whole is that someone else does all the hard work for me. they get me up to the point where I am in an 'exclusive' relationship, and then I step in.
See I can easily do the girlfriend thing. I can meet the friends and be the 'cool' girlfriend discussing how hot Kelly Brookes is and the latest rugby scores. I can easily do my own thing, let him have boys nights and will invest regularly in 'sexy' underwear. That is not the problem. The problem is getting there. It's the playing hard to get, being engaging in conversation but yet still maintaining the mystery, and the addressing of where you stand. This is where I fail miserably. Another me (aka my body double) would solve this. They would handle the hard bits for me and I could step in when the relationship really begins- the bit I am good at.
It seems ridiculous to me that the first few weeks/months is the time when you hide the crazy and watch what you say- knowing any mistake you make could jeopardise the future. And yet later, when you are officially committed the crazy comes out and guys just deal with it. 90% of all my close friends are guys. They are relaxed, have fun and don't bitch. Take the photo above, that's one of my best friends who quite rightly will not put up with me moaning or talking badly of other people. This is a relationship I'm good at. Friendship. Isn't that just cheesy?!
My best friend who has just finished with his girlfriend of two years. Upon breaking up he did what most guys do, shagged around. His ex decided during one of these hook ups to go to his house and peer through the window where she witnessed his new gaming skills. The ex called in sick for work all week, dead bolted the door and sent abusive messages about him to his sister. Needless to say she was hurt but peering through the window at 1am? That's just a new level of crazy.
This wasn't even the first time. She banned him from facebook and upon spotting him talking to another guy decided he must be secretly gay.
So why is it that guys in relationships put up with the crazy that would have made them run a mile on the first few dates?
Perhaps that's where I'm making mistakes. I'm doing things backwards, showing the crazy before the calm! And if this is true...does anyone know a 5ft3/4 girl with blonde hair, big boobs and a massive love for dirty innuendos?
Wednesday 23 June 2010
I'm not going to lie...
I'm having an awful week. One of those weeks where you literally cannot wait to go to bed so you can dream of a day less stressful than the last.
In the past few days I have been so caught up with things that I have topped my levels of insanity. Yesterday I boarded a piccadilly line train, panicked thinking I was going the wrong way so got off only to realise I was actually on the right train in the first place and because of my hasty exit had to wait another ten minutes for the next train.
I then decided to try to fix my fan. I think the wire between my brain and my body has been cut because without thinking properly I lurched my finger towards the blade and sliced my thumb. Ow. The day before I decided to go to the cashpoint and strolled along daydreaming, only to realise from sniggers behind me that I was trying to withdraw cash from a post box. Oh dear.
The past few days were spent confined in a teaching room whilst I decided to brush up on my technological skills. I turned up thinking that I would be around like minded writing souls who would love my choice of visiting the local pub garden for lunch. I was VERY much wrong. I was the youngest by twenty or so years. And trust me being the youngest has its problems, I soon became the 'fast learner' of the group, and sitting in a room without air conditioning surrounded by five middle aged redundant women as they asked me how to centre their text box nearly killed me. If that was not enough I then was forced to listen to a newly divorced woman who had just been made redundant from her high publication job and was now thinking about working in Tescos. Wow definitely the news I need to hear when in the midst of graduating.
It all seemed to be going a little pear shaped- did I mention I also had to take a friend to A&E ?(for no fault of my own but that can't be good, and there are no fit doctors in the UK. ER lied- bastards.) Until today.
As if an omen England finally got their act together and won a game, I boarded my train at Kings Cross without fuss or delay, I was told I was beautiful by some strange man (normally the pepper spray has come out but when you're having a down week the strange foreign man with no teeth is a highlight) and my favourite song came on the radio. I popped into my local to see a friend who had moved abroad for the last year or so. Immediately I was told stories about our times at university and just had to smile. 'Remember the time when we went to that bar and popped outside for a cigarette and that random woman tried to kiss me?' or 'Do you remember that time when we had a fight and you got so upset drunk that you ran down the street in your towel to talk to me'. It was on this that my friend Fleur ran into the pub carrying flowers. Running towards me she pressed them into my hand, 'I know you've had an awful week and decided that someone should buy you flowers. I know your favourite are orchids but I wanted these to match your room.'
I could have cried. It is most definitely about the small things. (and no that was not meant to be read dirtily thank you very much!)
In the past few days I have been so caught up with things that I have topped my levels of insanity. Yesterday I boarded a piccadilly line train, panicked thinking I was going the wrong way so got off only to realise I was actually on the right train in the first place and because of my hasty exit had to wait another ten minutes for the next train.
I then decided to try to fix my fan. I think the wire between my brain and my body has been cut because without thinking properly I lurched my finger towards the blade and sliced my thumb. Ow. The day before I decided to go to the cashpoint and strolled along daydreaming, only to realise from sniggers behind me that I was trying to withdraw cash from a post box. Oh dear.
The past few days were spent confined in a teaching room whilst I decided to brush up on my technological skills. I turned up thinking that I would be around like minded writing souls who would love my choice of visiting the local pub garden for lunch. I was VERY much wrong. I was the youngest by twenty or so years. And trust me being the youngest has its problems, I soon became the 'fast learner' of the group, and sitting in a room without air conditioning surrounded by five middle aged redundant women as they asked me how to centre their text box nearly killed me. If that was not enough I then was forced to listen to a newly divorced woman who had just been made redundant from her high publication job and was now thinking about working in Tescos. Wow definitely the news I need to hear when in the midst of graduating.
It all seemed to be going a little pear shaped- did I mention I also had to take a friend to A&E ?(for no fault of my own but that can't be good, and there are no fit doctors in the UK. ER lied- bastards.) Until today.
As if an omen England finally got their act together and won a game, I boarded my train at Kings Cross without fuss or delay, I was told I was beautiful by some strange man (normally the pepper spray has come out but when you're having a down week the strange foreign man with no teeth is a highlight) and my favourite song came on the radio. I popped into my local to see a friend who had moved abroad for the last year or so. Immediately I was told stories about our times at university and just had to smile. 'Remember the time when we went to that bar and popped outside for a cigarette and that random woman tried to kiss me?' or 'Do you remember that time when we had a fight and you got so upset drunk that you ran down the street in your towel to talk to me'. It was on this that my friend Fleur ran into the pub carrying flowers. Running towards me she pressed them into my hand, 'I know you've had an awful week and decided that someone should buy you flowers. I know your favourite are orchids but I wanted these to match your room.'
I could have cried. It is most definitely about the small things. (and no that was not meant to be read dirtily thank you very much!)
Friday 18 June 2010
The Rules
Sometimes I hate being a woman.
I know that women fought for our rights to vote, and that we now have so much going for us but I seriously at times HATE being a woman.
Every single thing that we do has to be done in a particular way.
For example:
A guy can only make baked beans on toast- that's fine he's a man. A woman can only make beans on toast- that's odd.
A woman crashes into the car in front- simple she's a woman driver. A man crashes into the car in front- the car in front must be a woman driver.
A woman gets a promotion- that's because she has massive boobs. A guy gets a promotion- that's because he's a hard working guy.
A woman raises her voice and gets angry- it's her time of the month. A guy raises his voice- LAD.
A woman kisses more than one guy on a night out- SLUT. A guy kisses more than one girl on a night out...and a little bit more- LAD.
A girl asks a guy out- stalker. A guy asks a girl out- gentleman.
I could continue but fear that I could go on for quite a while. I'm not by any means a feminist. I do find women who cry a lot very disturbing,and I did watch that advert for vodafone where the daughter cries to her dad about breaking up with her husband/boyfriend and was too upset to drive her car particularly annoying. Why the hell did she have to call her dad and disturb him in a meeting, man up and drive the car yourself you stupid woman.
This came more to my attention when my best friend yesterday who is female told me that she hated to have her food cooked in a restaurant by a woman. To quote her 'there are just some professions that should be done by men'. I tried to debate that women usually were the ones connected to cooking, but she shook her head. 'I know that, but that's at home. Chefs in restaurants should be men.' Let me point out my friend is VERY un PC at the best of times. She finished her meal and I asked her how it was only for her to respond 'Good, but would have been better if a man had cooked it.' And this is coming from a woman...
I know that women fought for our rights to vote, and that we now have so much going for us but I seriously at times HATE being a woman.
Every single thing that we do has to be done in a particular way.
For example:
A guy can only make baked beans on toast- that's fine he's a man. A woman can only make beans on toast- that's odd.
A woman crashes into the car in front- simple she's a woman driver. A man crashes into the car in front- the car in front must be a woman driver.
A woman gets a promotion- that's because she has massive boobs. A guy gets a promotion- that's because he's a hard working guy.
A woman raises her voice and gets angry- it's her time of the month. A guy raises his voice- LAD.
A woman kisses more than one guy on a night out- SLUT. A guy kisses more than one girl on a night out...and a little bit more- LAD.
A girl asks a guy out- stalker. A guy asks a girl out- gentleman.
I could continue but fear that I could go on for quite a while. I'm not by any means a feminist. I do find women who cry a lot very disturbing,and I did watch that advert for vodafone where the daughter cries to her dad about breaking up with her husband/boyfriend and was too upset to drive her car particularly annoying. Why the hell did she have to call her dad and disturb him in a meeting, man up and drive the car yourself you stupid woman.
This came more to my attention when my best friend yesterday who is female told me that she hated to have her food cooked in a restaurant by a woman. To quote her 'there are just some professions that should be done by men'. I tried to debate that women usually were the ones connected to cooking, but she shook her head. 'I know that, but that's at home. Chefs in restaurants should be men.' Let me point out my friend is VERY un PC at the best of times. She finished her meal and I asked her how it was only for her to respond 'Good, but would have been better if a man had cooked it.' And this is coming from a woman...
Saturday 12 June 2010
The Friend
I've decided to write a little bit about my friend Sarah. She in herself is a blog just waiting to happen.
We all have those friends that are just a little bit crazy...who are the ones that feature in all of our drunken nights out stories. Well that is my Sarah. The only difference is there is no line. That imaginary line that people have on nights out Sarah does not have, and she simply will not be embarrassed by ANYTHING and I mean ANYTHING.
The first night I met Sarah was when I was 16 and she 15. Her brother was a good friend of mine and had brought her along to the pub one night (yes we all drank underage, who didn't?!). Within minutes of meeting her Sarah had not only set fire to her hair and broken a chair in the pub but she had proceeded to remove all the remaining drinks and food from the table next to us. Needless to say that from then onwards Sarah and I became very good friends.
Unfortunately for me however I do get embarrassed easily. I pretend not to and my guy friends try to get me red in the face and fail but Sarah manages it every time. When driving with her she will make sure that she plays 'Time To Say Goodbye' in Italian on the loudest setting whilst pulling into my tiny, private roaded drive way. Or the time when we went food shopping and she decided that I had to walk around pushing the trolley with a tiara on and very high heels whilst she then (sober) managed to drive straight into a DVD display.
When I was younger I thought that Sarah's acts could not get any worse. I was wrong. University and its hockey team brought with it a barrel full of anecdotes for Sarah to tell. The time she was dared to sit in Tescos in their freezer and is now henceforth banned from Cowley Road Tescos. Or the time she went to the kebab shop and proceeded to scream at the man that she was diabetic and therefore needed cheesy chips within the next 2 minutes, whilst trying to pay with her harrods card.
The best nights I have had have been with Sarah and her straightforward attitude. One night we were out in a club in Oxford and Sarah spotted Bradley from S Club 7. Sarah called him over to her where he then asked if he could have a cigarette. After a pause Sarah decided that he could but only if he sung her his solo part of 'never had a dream come true'. Bradley agreed and sung her his solo, he then asked her for his cigarette to which she replied...'Yeah I don't actually have any but thanks for the song' and walked off.
I could go on but feel that with the amount of stories that I have about her I could be here a while...so I'll leave you with the attached photo. It's the time that she raided a skip and found a child's toy car. After removing it from the skip and deciding to ride in it drunk down the hill it collapsed into several different pieces...
Tuesday 8 June 2010
I'm a horrible person
I had to break the bad news to my stalker last night.
Apparently even stalkers have feelings, who would have guessed? It would seem that even they have to draw a line somewhere.
So as mentioned before I had tried everything to break bad news to this guy that apparently had a major crush on me. And by everything I mean every single excuse in the book; 'It's not you it's me. I'm a mess right now, I don't know what I want', 'I'm scared of commitment', 'I don't want to ruin what we already have'.
I even went on to tell the poor guy that I was going out for drinks with another guy...this resulted in him texting me every fifteen minutes to ask when I would be home, and to say that he hoped my date was going badly. Smooth. When I ignored these texts the phonecalls began...when I ignored these more texts began. It was like being stuck in a constant stalker cycle.
So last night I decided in order to break off this obsession I would have to say something that would put him off me in a massive way. I thought about the obvious- I don't like men...actually quite like your sister, or I have a sex addiction or even I used to be Alan but let's be honest none of these would have been remotely believable. Instead I went for the standard 'I got so drunk last night I had sex with someone I shouldn't have.' That doesn't sound too bad but believe you me the reaction I got from that was as though I had been dating him for years and just told him that I had been sleeping with his brother. (Can we please bare in mind that I had not even touched the boy at this point!)
I then faced an evening of angry texts, threats and mainly a great use of the word 'hurt'. It sounds cruel but it was like putting an injured animal out of its' misery. I am seriously confused about the role change however. Usually I am the crazy one who acts irrationally...perhaps I'm just not that bad. I was then informed that if I go to my local for a drink this week I need to 'forewarn him'. I mean really? The pub is opposite my house, do I really need to provide him with my alcoholic timetable? Because if I am being honest it would be far easier to simply tell him when I won't be in there.
Anyway so I decided that all this anger was for the best, I turned my phone off and went to sleep, waking up to a text from him this morning that read: 'So sorry I got so angry at you last night. I had no right. You're right we're not together so I'm sorry. Let's go for a drink this week. x'
You are kidding me?! Even when I'm a lying bitch I can't get out of this...
Apparently even stalkers have feelings, who would have guessed? It would seem that even they have to draw a line somewhere.
So as mentioned before I had tried everything to break bad news to this guy that apparently had a major crush on me. And by everything I mean every single excuse in the book; 'It's not you it's me. I'm a mess right now, I don't know what I want', 'I'm scared of commitment', 'I don't want to ruin what we already have'.
I even went on to tell the poor guy that I was going out for drinks with another guy...this resulted in him texting me every fifteen minutes to ask when I would be home, and to say that he hoped my date was going badly. Smooth. When I ignored these texts the phonecalls began...when I ignored these more texts began. It was like being stuck in a constant stalker cycle.
So last night I decided in order to break off this obsession I would have to say something that would put him off me in a massive way. I thought about the obvious- I don't like men...actually quite like your sister, or I have a sex addiction or even I used to be Alan but let's be honest none of these would have been remotely believable. Instead I went for the standard 'I got so drunk last night I had sex with someone I shouldn't have.' That doesn't sound too bad but believe you me the reaction I got from that was as though I had been dating him for years and just told him that I had been sleeping with his brother. (Can we please bare in mind that I had not even touched the boy at this point!)
I then faced an evening of angry texts, threats and mainly a great use of the word 'hurt'. It sounds cruel but it was like putting an injured animal out of its' misery. I am seriously confused about the role change however. Usually I am the crazy one who acts irrationally...perhaps I'm just not that bad. I was then informed that if I go to my local for a drink this week I need to 'forewarn him'. I mean really? The pub is opposite my house, do I really need to provide him with my alcoholic timetable? Because if I am being honest it would be far easier to simply tell him when I won't be in there.
Anyway so I decided that all this anger was for the best, I turned my phone off and went to sleep, waking up to a text from him this morning that read: 'So sorry I got so angry at you last night. I had no right. You're right we're not together so I'm sorry. Let's go for a drink this week. x'
You are kidding me?! Even when I'm a lying bitch I can't get out of this...
Saturday 5 June 2010
She loves me...She loves me not
Can I just randomly apologise before I blog. I have a bit of an obsession. An obsession with '....' and I apologise. I realise I do it a lot but it's very addictive to throw a little bit of 'dundundun' wherever I can....see what I mean!!
Anyway I have a bit of a situation at the moment. It was my birthday this week (cue songs, cake, champagne and pressies) and I made a big point of getting drunk and crying over the fact that no one had ever brought me flowers. I then decided to tell everyone I was out with that my favourites were orchids, of course I was not in the slightest bit hinting for one of them to buy me orchids but if they ended up outside a flower shop they could perhaps do me a favour...
My plan worked and the next day I recieved a pot full of orchids. Now what you have to realise is that romantic gestures like that embarrass me. They are lovely but I have never really experienced them. My longest relationship was with a very unromantic man. A guy whose idea of wining and dining me was taking me to mcdonalds and then ordering the wrong deli sandwich. He also brought me mint aeros when I craved chocolate, who does that?? Mint Aero is NOT a chocolate bar. But anyway... (I told you the '....' were useful) as I was saying these orchids were a massive shocker. Especially as they arrived with a note that used the word 'love'. Now that really is scary. It turned out the flowers had been delivered by my friend who had decided that after six or seven hours of me whining on about wanting orchids he'd just buy me some to shut me up.
I relaxed. But not for long. The following evening I recieved a text from sed platonic friend claiming that he had developed feelings for me. Ah. I knew there was a price to pay for getting orchids.
I played my girl card and used the typical girl excuse. I'm not looking for anything serious right now, I'm confused, I don't know where my head's at. Whilst also making a point of letting him know that I was still going on dates with other guys. I was very apologetic and made a point of highlighting my many flaws. I thought this had worked until I started to get texts every hour asking me to just try a date, to tell him why things wouldn't work out. Let me just say now that I am the biggest wuss (it took me a month to dump my ex because he kept crying everytime I tried and I couldn't handle it). I agreed to a date...I don't know how I'm going to get out of this one.
I'm debating licking tube poles, sitting near snotty kids or simply being hit (not lethally) by a passing car. Hmm perhaps it is slightly wrong that I'm willing to be hit by a car to escape the awkwardness of a one sided date. I definitely have some issues.
The worst however has been the CONSTANT texting. After leaving my phone downstairs for half an hour I had recieved ten texts and eight missed calls, the tone of each becoming increasingly clingy as time went on. This is one of the mysteries of men and women that I really don't get. If you ignore men or show them you're not that interested they suddenly LOVE you, whilst if you like a guy and want to be with him he runs for the hills in similar fashion to if you were to turn up with a ski mask and a chainsaw.
Oh well. Let's see how this one pans out.
Anyway I have a bit of a situation at the moment. It was my birthday this week (cue songs, cake, champagne and pressies) and I made a big point of getting drunk and crying over the fact that no one had ever brought me flowers. I then decided to tell everyone I was out with that my favourites were orchids, of course I was not in the slightest bit hinting for one of them to buy me orchids but if they ended up outside a flower shop they could perhaps do me a favour...
My plan worked and the next day I recieved a pot full of orchids. Now what you have to realise is that romantic gestures like that embarrass me. They are lovely but I have never really experienced them. My longest relationship was with a very unromantic man. A guy whose idea of wining and dining me was taking me to mcdonalds and then ordering the wrong deli sandwich. He also brought me mint aeros when I craved chocolate, who does that?? Mint Aero is NOT a chocolate bar. But anyway... (I told you the '....' were useful) as I was saying these orchids were a massive shocker. Especially as they arrived with a note that used the word 'love'. Now that really is scary. It turned out the flowers had been delivered by my friend who had decided that after six or seven hours of me whining on about wanting orchids he'd just buy me some to shut me up.
I relaxed. But not for long. The following evening I recieved a text from sed platonic friend claiming that he had developed feelings for me. Ah. I knew there was a price to pay for getting orchids.
I played my girl card and used the typical girl excuse. I'm not looking for anything serious right now, I'm confused, I don't know where my head's at. Whilst also making a point of letting him know that I was still going on dates with other guys. I was very apologetic and made a point of highlighting my many flaws. I thought this had worked until I started to get texts every hour asking me to just try a date, to tell him why things wouldn't work out. Let me just say now that I am the biggest wuss (it took me a month to dump my ex because he kept crying everytime I tried and I couldn't handle it). I agreed to a date...I don't know how I'm going to get out of this one.
I'm debating licking tube poles, sitting near snotty kids or simply being hit (not lethally) by a passing car. Hmm perhaps it is slightly wrong that I'm willing to be hit by a car to escape the awkwardness of a one sided date. I definitely have some issues.
The worst however has been the CONSTANT texting. After leaving my phone downstairs for half an hour I had recieved ten texts and eight missed calls, the tone of each becoming increasingly clingy as time went on. This is one of the mysteries of men and women that I really don't get. If you ignore men or show them you're not that interested they suddenly LOVE you, whilst if you like a guy and want to be with him he runs for the hills in similar fashion to if you were to turn up with a ski mask and a chainsaw.
Oh well. Let's see how this one pans out.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
