I'm half sitting up in bed in my
It's a bank holiday weekend, the sun is shining, and the common outside the window is surprisingly empty for 9am on a Saturday. But then, we are a nation of piss-heads, and last night was bank holiday Friday - or, as it is more frequently known in Blighty, 'time to go to the pub'.
If I line up my view point correctly (by sitting just to the right of centre in my king sized bed) The window frame (one of 3 in my south facing room - I know. Get me.) blocks out the street lamp outside. Which means all I can see is trees, right off into the distance through the early(ish) morning haze (OK, pollution smog.) And if i sit up a little more, a vast stretch of green grass joins the view, which is gratifyingly free of footballers or dog walkers this morning. With my leisurely lack of plans for the day ahead, I feel like I'm waking up on some grand country estate. It's just a pity that the ornate bandstand or the duck lake (with fountains) aren't visible from this side of the common.
It's also a shame there's no butler to bring me tea and hot buttered hot cross buns for breakfast in bed.
But I'll get over it.
I am feeling uncommonly lucky today - despite the fact that yesterday while picnicing I was attacked by ants and now sport about 5638 itchy lumpy bites all over my body. Mainly on arms and feet, which is a shame because it's awful warm outside and now I look like I have the plague if I don't wear sleeves.
I live in a beautiful house, with a lovely family, a great view, all the things I wanted to achieve in moving to London seem to be happening (successfully at that) and life is in general coming up roses.
Of course, being a cynical bitch, I'm patiently waiting for it all to blow up in my face.
And my homelife is essentially me living someone else's life and it's not my home.
And there is the fact that while professionally I seem to be making headway, my love life does seem to lurch from one crisis to another. In fact, that's a lie. Crisis makes it sound like something might be happening, when very little does.
So, as I've said previously, I decided to get back on the horse once and for all, and date like crazy until I found a man that I can call a boyfriend.
Results from the last couple of weeks jam packed dating schedule...
- Nice jewish boy..... fairly convinced secretly gay. Also very annoying in a way that reminded me of an ex who is now only known as 'cuntfish'. Also didn't help that on our second date (to an exhibition I really wanted to see) I spent the whole time concentrating on not throwing up thanks to a child inflicted stomach bug (god damn nannying...) but then I should be grateful, because I didn't have to kiss him
- Man-boy with dimples.... beautiful, quite funny, a gentleman when it comes to paying for drinks, but the work ethic of a 12yr old child. I just can't do lazy men anymore. He didn't seem to have an interest driving him on other than making it to the pub after work.
Best clouds seen - a flaming poodle on a hoverboard, and Indiana Jones breathing out a pig.
Best part of the date - seeing clouds that looked like a flaming poodle on a hoverboard, and Indiana Jones breathing out a pig. Should really cancel next date, but he does live so locally to me. It's a pity.
- Manly fireman (previously a lumber-jack)...... very manly, and a lovely guy. Also balding (badly) and I suspect a hairy back. Also slightly directionless, and by the sounds of it, hopeless at settling on any one thing/place/job.
- The attractive older man..... turned out to not be mid 30s. Turned out to be 43. Which I could've got used to. But if I'm going to date someone old enough to be my father, I'd quite like them to have the emotional maturity (and personal finances) to match their advanced age.
So, after fairly pointless spark-free dates, I decided I should go back to something I'm better at.
Meaningless sex.
All spark and no dating. Perfect.
My 'little black book' came out.
Hmm. The 'one who got away.' He occassionaly sends me 'what're you wearing' messages. Perfect.
Of course, he does live in the far north of London, which, if you're a South Londoner, might as well be the Outer Hebrides.
I had to get up at 6am to get back for work in the morning (where I was hoping I could slip in unnoticed and change into fresh clothes before breakfast. Turns out the entire household was up and in the kitchen. And curious to know if I'd been up and out extremely early, or I was coming in extremely late. *shameface*)
Still, the advantage of the early start was the tube being so peaceful. It was lovely.
hmmm.......maybe if i smile we'll get chatting and go out.'
And I have to give myself a little talking to....
"But,brainlust, we're on the tube at this hideously early hour because we're coming back from a man's house, where we've spent the night in his bed, and yet you're not thinking much about him. You're looking elsewhere, only hours after. I mean, really. You slut. And it's not that it's not worth thinking about lat night. It was... nice."
Really quite nice.
Like when I'd turned around to look out the window, surprised it was dark and he kissed my spine, all the way down, and had these feathery touches, and things got a little... heated, and then he did that thing...... yeah. ooh. Delicious thought. *blushes*
And so i do smile at the nice looking man. But it's mainly the 'I had great sex grin' and less the 'take me out' coy smile i was originally intending. I must be some sort of sexual deviant.
But if I can't have a boyfriend, why not a fuck buddy? And why not look at other men? It's not like it means anything to 'the one who got away'.
We get on well. I fancy him. Have done since we had a one night thing at a festival when I was 19. We ended up in various compromising positions back then- and memorably, I was wearing only a massive ballgown skirt throughout.
We kept in contact for months, me pining after him constantly, him being cool, calm, quiet and mysterious.
Then he disappeared and severed all contact.
Then about 6 months after that, he reappeared with a 'how you doin?' message out of the blue. On the day I'd dumped cuntfish. On the day I was wearing the ball gown skirt for the first time since that festival. It was fate.
But, somehow, over the next 4 years we kept not actually getting in anyway together, or re-visit that one night thing. I often wondered what might have happened. Wondered out loud to M about 'the one who got away.'
On a more mature reflection, he's less 'quiet and mysterious and better than me', more 'quiet and nerdy and stand offish'. But I like him. He's ok. But I don't trust him. At all. Not boyfriend material. I know he falls out of love very quickly. He doesn't settle. We talk very frankly about our lives. And I know his type is older, curvy women. Neither of which I am.
But, he does send the odd saucy message.
And having fallen asleep with his arm around me, I could get used to seeing him more.
Just until something with feeling comes along.
The tube being so what? Don't leave me in suspense, woman! So full of a troupe of amazing people coming back from the circus that you ended up tattooing pictures of naked ladies with tattoos of naked ladies with tattoos of naked ladies all over your body like some sort of bizarre Inception-esque romp through the life of someone who'd do that kind of thing?
ReplyDeleteThough I have a horrible sneaking suspicion that you might have been going to say "empty", which is one of those words that gets really weird if you look at it for too long, especially if you write it over and over again on a piece of paper or indeed a comment box:
empty empty empty empty empty empty empty empty empty empty empty empty empty empty empty empty empty empty empty empty empty empty empty empty empty empty empty empty empty empty empty empty empty empty empty empty empty empty empty empty empty empty empty empty empty empty empty empty empty empty empty empty empty empty empty empty empty empty empty empty empty empty empty empty empty empty empty empty empty empty empty empty empty empty empty empty empty empty empty empty empty empty empty empty empty empty empty empty empty empty empty empty empty empty empty empty empty empty empty empty empty empty empty empty
See?
Anyway, on the dating front, I forbid you from ever going out with anyone ever again who reminds you of cuntfish, because he is a cuntfish and a wankerface and I don't have the energy to hate another one of your boyfriends that much.
I got a bit excited about the fireman/lumberjack because both of those are wonderfully manly endeavors but if he's essentially a gorilla I doubt he's a great catch.
As for the other two... sounds like directionless drifter isn't really the way you want to go ;)
Also, compromising positions in a massive ballroom skirt must have been quite interesting. Knowing how difficult it is to arrange my massive ballroom skirt when I'm just trying to go for a piss, I can't imagine how difficult the compromisingness must have been.
And, on that piece of TMI, I will leave you.
Have fun in the sun.
Dear 'Crazy Bitch' Scar.
ReplyDeleteI love you dearly and promise not to date anyone who'll eventually be known as cuntfish (or wankerface)ever again. Please accept my now finished post about the tube, and then continue posting hot naked tattooed chicks on your blog for my approval.
Ali.
ps. Empty. x
Fantastisch. Love it. Great picture.
ReplyDeleteMore tattooed ladies on both my Tumblr:
http://scargdc.tumblr.com/
and my WeHeartIt:
http://weheartit.com/baxtale
But yes, there will be more on my blog as well. soon.
Empty. Box.
Hey, that actually makes sense. OMG. You could have an empty box. And then it would be an empty box!
empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box empty box
*sigh*. I'm going to have to block your comments, aren't I?
ReplyDeletePlease stop boxing things.
Sorry. I will be restrained. Ish.
ReplyDelete