This blog is back

28 Sep

…Yes it’s been a long time coming, and for that I apologise, but the truth is things have been kind of busy here at FSB towers.

In a nutshell:

* I quit my horrible job, and am now freelance. It’s only been two months, but things are picking up. And I’m a zillion times happier to be out of that hellhole.

* I’m now 30 and still living at home with my mum and step-dad. Despite this not being an ideal situation for man-hunting,  it’s vastly improved by the infinite supply of wine and the fact that they’ve let me convert the spare room into an office. Plus, to be honest, with most of my mates now coupled off or living on the other side of the country, it beats living on my own.  (Yeah it’s not cool to admit it, but I actually get on with my folks.)

* I had a mis-advised attempt to resurrect my ‘thing’ (we didn’t have enough dates to warrant calling it a relationship) with T.  in London earlier this year, resulting in us going for dinner, him apologising for being a shit, us having a very public mega-snog in a bar (cringe) and me sneaking him back to my very tiny hotel room. Did he call me afterwards? Did he fuck.

* I had (another) mis-advised attempt to resurrect my relationship (yes I am capable) with my ex after a weekend of amazing ex-sex at a mutual friend’s wedding. Attempts to rekindle anything other than sex have, unfortunately, not been very encouraging.
Most recently (i.e. in the last few weeks) I’ve had a couple of dates with a guy in Bristol that snogged in a bar last year.  We lost touch but when I recently changed my phone number and sent a text to all my contacts to let them know, he replied and we ended up exchanging a quick-fire series of flirtatious messages every day for about three weeks. We had two dates that (I thought) went well, then last weekend we were both a festival with our own friends and arranged to meet, except he never showed up and didn’t reply to my texts (I only sent two, I’m not a mad stalker bunny).

When he called me to apologise (a couple of days later) it turns out he bumped into an ex and spent the whole night chatting to her. Apparently they had “lots to sort out” but there was nothing “dodgy” to it and I have “nothing to worry about”. Whatever. I’m not the jealous sort and if a guy bumps into an ex he hasn’t seen for a while and wants to catch up that’s fine, but the whole night? While the new girl he’s dating is in the same area, wondering why her texts are being ignored and getting increasingly pissed off?  I don’t think so.

Anyway it’s his loss. I was even wearing my special “third date” knickers.

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5 good thing about getting dumped right before Christmas

17 Dec

1) It’s one less gift to buy…
2) …but you can spend the money you saved on something for yourself instead. Like a new dress, or a massage, or a Rampant Rabbit ;)
3) You can take advantage of the abundance of mistletoe. It’s never been so socially acceptable to kiss complete strangers in the name of tradition.
4) You can eat as many yummy little pigs-in-blankets as you want without worrying about anyone seeing your Christmas belly outside the confines of your festive jumper.
5) No need to shave your legs. Helloooo opaque tights!

Double fail: I get rejected for my dream job AND I get dumped

16 Dec

I haven’t written anything on here for a month. But in my defence, it’s been a really tough, shitty month.

I got an interview for my dream job at a national newspaper, a place I interned at while I was at university and have been desperate to get my foot back in the door there ever since. I cancelled all my plans – including an annual trip to see my oldest and bestest girlfriends and a Beth Orton concert with my sister – and spent a week solidly prepping for it.

The interview went well, or so I thought. Then last week I got a rejection email. Apparently I was a “very strong candidate” but some of my answers were not quite “specific enough”. I spent the rest of the day at work with a smile so fixed it felt like my face might crack and then bawled my eyes out in the car on the way home for the entire 45 minute journey, with nothing to dry my tears and wipe my snotty nose except the gross yellow duster I use to clean my windscreen.

The annoying thing is, the job was nothing I hadn’t done before in previous roles. I think perhaps nerves got the better of me at the interview and I rambled a bit. I should have popped two Beta Blockers beforehand instead of one. Or maybe three.

Then today I got dumped. For the second time this year.

I was due to go and see T. in London this weekend, and when I texted him to see what train I should book, he called me. I figured something was wrong because he never calls me, he only ever texts. We chatted for a bit about our weekend and I started to think I was just being paranoid as he was being perfectly normal. Then I decided to bite the bullet and asked if he still wanted me to visit.

To cut a long story short, he likes me but he doesn’t want to lead me on; he’s not sure he’s ready for this to get more serious as he just got out of an eight year relationship earlier this year; he drunkenly kissed another girl a couple of weeks ago (!) and feels really guilty about it, if I’d got the job at the national newspaper things might be different because I’d be moving to London but keeping things going long distance feels like a lot of pressure, blah, blah, blah.

The thing is, he was so nice about it that I actually ended up consoling him. “It doesn’t matter that you kissed someone else because we’d never really talked about what was going on between us” … “If you’re not comfortable with this then I’d rather you say so now rather than stringing me along” … “Thanks for being honest with me”… “Don’t worry, I’m not half as devastated as I was about the job”….

I am a fool and a push-over and right now it feels like I’m destined to be single and stuck in a job that’s about as creatively fulfilling as peeling onions with a spoon FOREVER.

Should I break-up with my job?

14 Nov

God I hate my job. I’ve been there six months now and I’m still not really sure what it is they hired me to do. Something to do with attending lots of meetings and putting together lengthy proposals for business development which are subsequently rejected if they require any sort of monetary investment. The actual job I applied for must have been a work of fiction because it is NOTHING like I expected. Even worse, my boss thinks it’s perfectly reasonable to call me ‘flower’. And yesterday, when I asked him where I could find the projector for a presentation I had to give, he stood up and rolled his eyes and told me to “follow Uncle Will”, which is not only massively fucking condescending but also creepy and weird. But hey, nothing like a bit of nonchalant office sexism to make you feel valued at work!

I know it doesn’t look great to a new employer if I look for a new job so soon but what else can I do when, day by day, I can feel my creative brain cells dying a slow and painful death. Yes I have a lot of responsibility, but no actual authority to change the way things really work. It’s a media organisation ffs, and people are still talking about Twitter like it’s something that’s been beamed down from outer space. The money is good but that’s about the only thing I really like about my job, which seems pretty shallow. Is it unrealistic to expect to actually enjoy going to work, at least sometimes? Or to feel fulfilled by what you do? I think finding the right job is a bit like finding the right man. When you find one that’s a good fit you feel happy and inspired, but sometimes – despite your best efforts – you have to admit you’re just not on the same wavelength. I just don’t want my CV to make me look like a slag.

Ps. Thanks to those blogs that have nominated me for the Liebster Blog Award, I promise to get round to doing a post on this next week!

Are we dating, or just Friends With Benefits?

8 Nov

If you’ve very recently started dating somebody new and, while you’re cosied up together on a rainy Sunday afternoon flicking through Sky Movies, he suggests watching the Mila Kunis vs. Justin Timberlake rom-com Friends With Benefits, this should not be taken too literally. Should it?

I mean, we have a great time together when we see each other. Which, due to the fact he lives in London and I live 130 miles away, has only been twice in the last month after our initial hook-up. That’s fine, it’s good to not rush it. But I guess what’s bugging me is that he doesn’t get in touch in between dates. He doesn’t text to see what I’m up to at the weekend, or just to say hey. In other words, he doesn’t text just for the sake of it. He is a man with reason, who only texts to arrange the next time to meet up. I, however, am quite a fan of exchanging perfunctory texts with a new beau. It shows you’ve been thinking about them, or vice versa.

Just the other day, for example, I texted a photo of the book I just started reading. In hindsight this may have been a mistake, because the book in question is Jon Ronson’s The Psychopath Test. “I’ll let you know how you score” I wrote, with a winky face ;) to make it clear I was joking and didn’t really think he was a psychopath. “Crikey!” he wrote back. “Could you let me know how you score too? Xx” Two kisses – but no winky face. Shit. He thinks I could be a psychopath and that’s why he only wants us to be Friends With Benefits. Just like Kunis and Timerlake, only with less witty one-liners and more post-graduate debt.

Hurrah! I get the all clear

1 Nov

I don’t have an STD after all. After doing the pee-in-a-pot chlamydia self-test before work and then worrying through a busy day of meetings and Googling on my iPhone to find my nearest GUM clinic – all the while ignoring vitriolic text messages from Jealous Ex – he eventually confessed that he’d made the whole thing up. Although he didn’t exactly say “made up”. He gave the following explanation:

It turns out while I was on holiday he convinced himself that he’d caught something (just like he convinced himself I was cheating on him) and went to get tested, only he was too impatient to wait the two weeks for the results. So he got a friend to prescribe him antibiotics for chlamydia and gonorrhoea (I have no idea who he knows that has access to that kind of shit). His ‘symptoms’ cleared up soon afterwards and when his test results came back from the clinic they were negative. But that didn’t stop him from using his fictional STD as solid evidence that I’d been unfaithful and using it to justify a tirade of abuse against me the other night.

None of this actually matters anymore because right now all I can feel is relief. 1) That I don’t have an STD, and 2) That just at the point where I was starting to question whether breaking up with JE was for the best, he proved to me what an unhinged asshole he is. I texted him “Goodbye” before deleting his number for good and poured myself a large glass of wine to celebrate.

And besides, I have another date with T. to look forward to this weekend ;)

A close shave

31 Oct

This morning after getting out of the shower I decided to give my lady garden a trim ahead of my appointment at the GUM clinic later. I have a special shaver for this, one of those Gillette devices that allows you to trim to various lengths. But because it was 6.30am and I was still half asleep and rushing to get ready for work, for reasons unknown I removed the safety shield on the razor.

Consequently I can now see A LOT more of Daphne than I have in a long time (yes I have a name for her, that’s not weird). I used be partial to a Brazilian wax, but in recent years I’ve become fonder of look that’s softer, more fuzzy (though still neat). Now I don’t even have so much as a landing strip to prove I’m over 16. Poor Daphne looks like GI Jane. My bikini line has been scalped. And what will T. think of my new buzz cut? There’s just three days to go before I see him next. All I can do is hope it grows back a bit more before then. Perhaps I should fashion some sort of merkin? Or cut my losses and go the whole hog and clean shave the lot?

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