This is a bit of a catch up. I did try to be all technological and write a post on Friday when I was on the train to London but my phone ate it. Honestly Miss.
In retrospect it’s not so bad that it didn’t post. I wrote about one of the Actual Real Girls (not ones off the intarwebz)… and how every time I mention one of the Actual Real Girls the plans always fall through. I was due to see one such girl on Saturday. All I had to do was avoid breaking myself on Friday night. …you can possibly see where this is going.
I went to London for a mate’s stag night. We went out in Camden dressed up as a selection of cliché rock legends. We finished up in the rock club that I was in a few weeks ago, although this time I did not end up sleeping by a canal. This was a GOOD thing!
I did however get the number of a pretty girl who I was chatting to. It remains to be seen if she will reply to a message though.
Saturday the plan was to mooch around, maybe go to the zoo, but to wile away the day then see one an Actual Real Girl (named ‘Cola Lollies’, because she loves them). Unfortunately the weather was a bit rubbish. And we were feeling a bit rubbish. And a bit tired. And more than a little special. The rest of the lads decided to go home and since I didn’t fancy killing 5 hours when I really just wanted a kip I went home too and promised to reschedule with Cola Lollies.
The level of special can be demonstrated by description of my later actions: I found myself standing bare foot in the garden in a wonky dressing-gown with a bubble-sword spinning round, making giant bubbles and gazing wondrously open mouthed. I felt rather Arthur Dent. I couldn’t even make a cup of tea without forgetting to remove the tea bag.
In short, Saturday was a write off.
Things become more interesting. I should mention now something that I have previously omitted. I omitted it because it was not a date of any sort, but it has now become comically relevant.
A couple of weeks ago I popped round to a friend’s sister’s place. She was in drinking and I had no plans so popped round on the offer of a DVD. We did not watch much of the DVD due to the snogging. This was not the plan, but I would be lying if I said I wasn’t hoping for it. The snogging was fun, but it should have stopped there. However I fell victim to the impressive norks.
I think that my subconscious was wagging its finger at me from the recesses of my mind. I KNEW that this was probably going to get me in some degree of trouble with my friend. As a result, I am ashamed to say, things did not go well on my part. *shaky fist at subconscious*
I have had prouder moments.
I mention this because I was going to a gig on the Sunday night and I knew that both my friend and his sister would be there. I was feeling rather awkward and particularly sheepish. I did briefly talk to my friend as I was leaving and the words about needing a ‘little chat’ were used by him. Ho hum! That one’s for another time.
Things actually turned out rather better than expected that night. I had noticed a particularly cute girl who I rather fancied. As I was watching the band she sidled over and, after standing next to me brushing her arm against mine several times broached conversation. We did a few chats that night and I asked for a number and gave her a lift home with the promise of meeting up for a drink. You can say I was rather pleased.
As is prudent, I did a quick bit of Facebook investigation to see if any of my friends knew her.
As it turned out, yes they did. They did very well…. Apparently, she is the 22 year old sister of someone I know.
THIS is why I need to move out of here!
…I’m still going for a drink though, she is cute.
I have been a naughty boy.
This is not because I have been absent for so long (an unavoidable attack of Real Life and a virused laptop), but because I have done a naughty thing.
This particular naughty thing was catalysed by a rather lovely bottle of Bollinger that I had been keeping in reserve for emergencies (read: in case I needed to impress a girl at short notice). I’m a firm believer in not saving things for the ‘special occasion’ which never arises so cracked open the Champagne to celebrate Dragonforce getting a new, andrather well paid, job (she was always complaining that I was saving it for some cheap girl and not her anyway).
After polishing off the bottle we retired to our respective rooms. This is when mistake No. 1 occured. I logged on to MSN. Cupcake was online. This is not a problem in itself because it had been a couple of years since we had spoken online so she did not remember that it was me.
However, buoyed along by the champagne, I broke cover. Mistake number 2.
We chatted for about 3 hours. There were web-cams. There was naughtiness. It was all rather fun! She had a new haircut (and reminded me rather of Alison Mosshart) and had been exercising so was in much better shape. Somehow the norks had remained at an ever impressive 34FF. 34FF!!! How I had missed them and her naughty eyes.
By 4am, heady on the euphoria of sexual excitement, I jumped into my car to meet her. We drove out to dark country lanes and hijinks ensued.
At 6am I crept back into he house, hoping that Dragonforce had not noticed I was missing. This was a Thursday night. 3 hours sleep is not enough to operate on but at least I was working from home so could sit around in my pants, answering emails and dropping toast crumbs on myself.
So, was it worth it?
Well, frankly yes. I am hindered in my dating escapades by comparing everyone to her. I find myself looking for the characteristics that attracted me to her, and comparing every kiss to those I had with her. However, amongst this I know full well that we could never have a relationship again. There has been too much hurt and I would never trust her again.
I am, at least, no further back than I was before, and the hijinks was superb. I felt like a naughty teenager! This is probably not a wise thing to repeat though.
Oh, and I found out from Dragonforce the following day that the very same night she had been texting her ex and had agreed to meet with the unspoken subtext of hijinks.
I am my own worst enemy.
I KNOW what I should do post break up. I am just rubbish at doing it. I decided to totally cut the ex (‘Cupcake’) out of my life when we broke up. It sort of worked. However the allure of the forbidden is so strong that I found I hankered after contact just because I was not allowed. I’m terribly bad with things I’m not allowed.
After a long period of time I have settled on polite replies to the occasional texts I get. I find this messes with my head the least.
In retrospect, my relationship with Cupcake reminds me of some stand up material from a comic I now can’t identify: “I’ve just split up with my girlfriend. We were into different things. I was into life… she was into sucking it out of me”.
I would like to echo Toast’s call for some reliable method of mental-girl detection. This should be a field of serious scientific endeavour as the potential benefits to mankind are mammoth.
It is a total mystery to me how some girls can just get under your skin. I really can’t put my finger on it.
…although… it’s just possible it might be the norks.
So, for the future I have resolved the following:
- Date girls. PROPERLY actually date them, several times. This will give me many chances to work out if they show any warning signs.
- Avoid getting all doe eyed. This behaviour is for deer, female deer. It also makes a proper evaluation difficult.
- Don’t get drawn into sexy texts with an ex just because I am feeling frisky, and because I want to touch her norks again. Think of football or some kind of pyogenic granuloma instead.
- Don’t look at pictures of a pyogenic granuloma just after eating a very large meal.
- Try to make my lists of resolutions about a coherent topic and not just the last thing I saw on the interwebz.
Having spent most of my grown-up life in relationships, the last last 7 months have been by far the most entertaining that I have ever spent single. This is mainly due to:
- Adopting a certain ‘devil may care’ attitude.
- Realising that crashing and burning is not as TERRIFYING as it seemed in my younger days (and at least makes for a good story).
- A penchant to gravitate toward the girls that your mother warned you about, especially if redhead, and especially if in possession of fine norks.
Now, being single and carefree is lovely an’ all but where I live it is very difficult to meet new people. Most of my friends have inconsiderately moved away shacked up, got married or had babies (or a combination of the above). All my favourite social locations in the nearest ‘going out’ town are overrun by the clique of the recent ex (AKA ‘Cupcake’) and as such I have excommunicated myself.
Thankfully I am a not unreasonable train ride from that Mecca of promise and allure that is LONDON. The plans are as follows:
- Get a job in LONDON.
- Move to LONDON
- Live up the bachelor lifestyle in LONDON (on the huge income I will no doubt be generating in the new job that I will just waltz into)
- Marry Alison Mosshart
- Meet someone that makes my tummy feel funny, impress her with my Twister skills, romance her and marry her… crucially before Toast manages to marry anyone.
- Gloat as Toast sings at my wedding (as per the conditions of the wager).
Admittedly, this plan is not without it’s flaws. Currently there is no one who comes close to fulfilling plan component 5. As such I have embarked upon an quest to date new girls. LOTS. This is rather new territory for me (due to mostly having girlfriends over the years) so I am having to work out the dating rules on the fly.
So far I have discovered that pub games of Jenga are an excellent way of gauging manual dexterity, competitive streaks and grace in victory or defeat. I have also discovered that no matter how fit I am ice skating HURTS and makes me walk funny for a couple of days.