Guilt and resolutions.

Last night, I was awake at 2.20am eating cold  blackberry crumble, and half a litre of the kind of ice cream that isn't technically even a flavour beyond rich frozen creamy goodness, knowing that I would feel unequivocal guilt for scoffing it in the morning.
The same kind of guilt you put to the back of your mind when indulging in a one night stand you know full well is ill advised. The guilt that in the morning (and for a good few days after the event) will manifest itself with you repetitively face-planting your desk and moaning 'oh, god, why?' much to the bemusement of your startled customers/ colleagues.
Guilty feelings about overindulgence in food and men seem to overlap an awful lot in my mind - I even know a man/boy who I refer to as 'happy meal' behind his back.
(Happy Meal: He's a very attractive prospect, in a trying too hard way - but he's tempting. You know you really don't need it. You know you shouldn't go near him, and you know that as good as it'll be to open the happy meal box and play with the shiny new toy, it's not actually going to be nearly as interesting as it looked on the adverts, and, you're going to be hungry again very quickly. Happy meals don't keep you satisfied for long. And they don't waste time. They go straight to your hips. They're bad for your health..... And they're aimed at a much younger audience.)

Anyway. This isn't about Happy Meal. (Who, incidently, I have seen getting changed several times, and, by god, the toy does look very pretty unwrapped.)
I'm not even sure why I couldn't sleep.
 I suspect it's something to do with men and confusion, because it generally is- although this time I'm fairly sure it's not about a bad one night stand. It's been a while since I had a one night stand. Or any kind of sex. In fact, I think I may have just stumbled on the reason for the no-sleepy-thing. I think I need to have sex. But, but, I've just come to the very firm decision that I don't want sex. Like, ever. For the foreseeable future. It's time I learnt to be happy just single. And alone. And fucking miserable comfortable with my own company. But, a little bit of me is really really craving there to be something big and burly and alive and masculine in bed with me.
Not entirely sure how I'm planning to achieve this man in bed scenario, as I've cancelled my dating site profile, broken contact with the men I was dating, cancelled my brazilian wax appointment, and quit shaving my legs. And nothing is as good a contraceptive as me with my natural state gorilla legs. But, no sex. This is what I need to stick to. I'm even committing it to blog. Which must mean I'm serious. I don't like going back on my word. No sex until I'm actually going 'steady' with a nice man.

I also need to stop eating pudding in the middle of the night. Now that one might be the tougher cookie to crumble.

mmmmmm..... cookies.....


Damnit!