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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!

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.

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?

I try to remember how to play it cool

4 Oct

So just when I think I’m going crazy because I haven’t heard from T since spending an amazing weekend with him in London (although as my sister points out, this was only four days ago), I get a text from him on my way home from work. I’m so excited it’s all I can do to keep the car on the road.

“So, what are the chances of persuading you to come down to London, say next weekend? I’m worried there are parts of Brixton you haven’t seen x”

I breathe deep and try to remember how to play it cool (as if I ever knew).

“You mean there’s more to Brixton? I have an excruciating work awards ceremony on Friday [this is true, I can’t get out of it and I’m not even nominated for anything], but if you’d care to show me the sights on Saturday, I’d say your chances were pretty good… x”

“Done,” he says. “Yes there’s tons more stuff in Briston but I’ve changed my mind and I’m not gonna let you see any of it xx”

Two kisses? I can’t stop grinning.

I book a train to London for the following Saturday and text him to let him know what time I’ll be arriving. “Can’t wait,” I type.

Hang on, that’s not playing it cool. That’s playing it keen. I deleted that bit and sign-off with a jokey comment instead about already having seen the highlight of Brixton.

“I’ll meet you at the Tube station,” he texts back. “Can’t wait.”

A close encounter with an old friend

30 Sep

Ladies and gents, I have an announcement to make. I am smitten. The sort of smitten that compels you to re-read your lover’s text messages until you can quote them verbatim and leaves you smiling like a goon at nothing in particular. And like all the best romantic encounters, this one arrived completely out of the blue.

On Friday I was in London for a conference, which turned out to be excruciatingly dull. Afterwards I’d arranged to meet a couple of friends from university in London, where I was a postgrad student three years ago. (I’d invited more people, but I’d forgotten that everyone in the City seems to need at least a month’s notice in order to meet for a few drinks.) So in the end it was just me , H and T, two of the guys I used to hang out a lot with when I was living in London. I’d had a huge crush on T throughout the year we were at uni together, but he had a girlfriend he’d been with forever, or at least five years, which might as well be forever to someone who cant seem to hold a relationship longer than 18 months.

T finished work early and met me at the tube station in Angel with a big hug and a kiss on the cheek. He is really tall, 6ft 3″, and I’m only 5ft 3″ so he had to bend down quite a lot to do that. We went to a pub in Angel and even though I hadn’t seen him for more than a year and had been worried that maybe the conversation might dry up, we talked all afternoon. T is very intelligent and very witty but he’s also VERY cute in a slightly goofy, skinny-boy sort of way, with dark hair, hazel eyes and an enormous smile. He also mentioned that he’d broken up with his girlfriend earlier this year. A couple of hours later H arrived and we all went to a Turkish restaurant, then onto a bar. By this time I’d already missed the train that work had booked me onto, but I figured I’d just get the last train home at 10pm. But when 10pm came, we were still having a good time and the whiskey sours were in full flow.
“I don’t want to go!” I said.
“So don’t then,” said H.
“The only way that would work is if I can stay with one of you guys…”
“You can stay with me,” said T, quite quickly.

Even then, I didn’t think anything of it. I have a lot of guy friends and stay over sometimes just as I would at a girl friend’s house. I didn’t think anything of it when we’d said our goodbyes and T and I were on the tube, and he put an arm around my shoulder. Because it was just a friendly arm around the shoulder, right? And then we got back to his and we were both sitting on the bed and for a few moments there was this slightly loaded, slightly awkward silence, which I opted to break by pulling the duvet over his head. And that’s when he kissed me.

So… online dating

26 Sep

I’m online dating. Yes, I know it’s only been two weeks since I broke up with Jealous Boy, but that relationship had been on its last legs for a while. I’ve enjoyed several bouts of singledom throughout my twenties, relishing the fact that I never had to accommodate my social diary around anyone else’s, apologise for working late or feel guilty for the times when all I wanted to do was Continue reading

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