Miss here,
so another wonderful May Bank Holiday has come and gone and here I am, back in work, nothing has changed. Though not for want of trying...
As you may have noticed, this blog is about mine and Mr's terrible attempts at finding happiness or at least, a quick snog and a fumble. This leads to something of a dilemma for me. Because in order to find future happiness there are a few steps you need to follow in order to find 'the one' -
1) Find someone you're attracted to.
2) Talk to them to find out if they're an actual human being or just aother vaccuous shell of a body.
3) Flirt to let them know you have amourous intentions (the fact I am calling them 'amourous intentions' should give you a clue where this is going).
4) Make a move.
5) Courting - as the oldies call it.
6) U-Hauling.
7) Marriage/ Civil Partnership/ Hindi Blessing/ standing atop a mountain yodelling - whatever floats your boat romantically.
8) Cats/ Dogs/ Adopted foreign baby/ Arguments about where to get a sperm or womb from.
The thing is I am only good at step 5. And only slightly good at that. The rest of the steps scare the bejesus out of me. Please see the reasons why -
1) Find someone you're attracted to - Oh God then I will have to follow step 2.
2) Talk to them to find out if they're an actual human being or just aother vaccuous shell of a body - Now I have to think of a way to talk to them. Pick a subject, be cool, funny, don't look like a desperate cow.
3) Flirt to let them know you have amourous intentions (the fact I am calling them 'amourous intentions' should give you a clue where this is going) - When I flirt I either stand there scowling or become some Joan Collins parody of sexuality. The words 'subtle nuance' could never be applied to me. In fact, some people who I have thought I was on a date with have just assumed we were out for a quick bite to eat.
4) Make a move - I am most likely to act like Stan in South Park when he talks to that girl and just vomits over her. Seriously. No. Seriously.
5) Courting - as the oldies call it - this I do well. Cos you know the person likes you then, no pressure.
6) U-Hauling - the thought of coming home and waking up and eating dinner with the same person every day is petrifying. Where is my space? I sleep diagonally across the bed for Pete's sake.
7) Marriage/ Civil Partnership/ Hindi Blessing/ standing atop a mountain yodelling - whatever floats your boat romantically - Honeymoon I am all up for. Having to decide whether I should wear a dress or some suit whilst my family sits there uncomfortably and I give someone the power to take half my money, I'm not so keen on.
8) Cats/ Dogs/ Adopted foreign baby/ Arguments about where to get a sperm or womb from - Cats are evil. Dogs are amazing. Foreign baby will grow up and use his ethnicity as an excuse to get you to pay for really expensive holidays. Womb? No chance! I've seen Aliens.
So with all these pathetic fears in mind, my friend B is always trying to psychoanalyse me and tell me where I am going wrong. I made the mistake of telling her once I had a dream that I had a massive horse's penis and some builders saw me tossing myself off. Next thing I knew - out came the Freud books, dream interpretations, pschoanalysis. I was all ready to start therapy. But B suggested we start small and work on one step at a time. You know, completing step 2 before worrying about step 8 seemed rational.
So, in order to forget about the surrogate girlfriend, it has been decreed that everytime I go out I am to attempt a step until I become a master of it. So this weekend was the beginning of step 2. Thankfully, I have always been able to complete step 1.
People never believe me when I say I am shy because when I get to know you I become one of the loudest, stupidest, shameless people on the planet. But chances are, if you know me, you talked to me first and I didn't fancy you. During university I had a massive crush on this Greek girl and when she walked passed me and said 'Hi Miss' I actually turned to the wall and replied with a 'muh muh muh de buh' sound. I may have dribelled a little bit too. Another girl that I liked came over to my table in the pub to say 'Hello' and I decided the best topic of conversation to strike up was about canals and markets and how you can buy cheap batteries. Smooooooth.
So B offered me a lot of advice. How to look, position your body, topics of conversation. I immediately forgot them all. However, one bit of advice did stick with me - if you fancy a girl think of things you will have in common. Now I have fancied a girl called Sam for a little while and we have some mutual friends, but have never been introduced. So I decided that I would march up to her this weekend and introduce myself and start chatting about out mutual friends, places we've been etc.
So Sunday night I am out and I spot Sam up on the balcony with some friends. Sadly, none of our mutual friends are there so I am gonna have to be courageous. So I walk through the crowd confidently, walk past her friends and tap her on the shoulder. She turns round and gives me a look that says 'Uhhh yeah, what do you want?' But I am not to be put off. I am on a mission. I have advice. So it's full steam ahead.
Me - 'Excuse me are you Sam?'
Sam - 'What?'
Me - 'Are you Sam?'
Sam - 'What?'
Me - 'ARE YOU SAM?'
Sam - points at the massive amp she's stood in front of blasting out Girl's Aloud 'Sorry I can't hear you.'
Not joking, I hadn't noticed before. Maybe the blood was pumping too loudly in my ears. So Sam gets out her phone and puts it onto predictive text...which I can't use.
5 minutes later.
do.u.no.billy.
Sam - 'yeah'
Me - wild pointing. 'Is she here?'
Sam - 'No'
And with that she turns around, carries on dancing and grabs my mates arse. I think I am going to be on step 2 for a loooooong time.
On a serious note - any advice would be greatly appreciated.
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Misty Water Coloured Memories
Miss here,
Somebody asked me a question the other day and it has been niggling at me -
‘Before we started getting ourselves into relationships what did we think about?’
And since someone asked me this question, it has become really apparent how long I do spend thinking about my love life. And I don’t even have a love life. So how long do people who have love lives spend thinking about them?!
If you like someone, or love them, then they will be one of the first things you think about when you wake up. When in the shower you will probably be thinking either how much you don’t want to go to work or (more likely) how much you would like to be having sex with that person in the shower.
When on the way to work you will probably be listening to music, thinking about them.
If you’re job is as tedious and boring as mine, you will probably think about relationships to get you through the monotonous day.
When you talk to people you ask about their romantic lives (although I’m with Bridget Jones in thinking this is very rude).
When you’re with your friends you give them an update on a drama or, if you’re lucky, how future plans are going.
When drunk, you rant and rave, maybe cry and sing really depressing songs. You have your phone taken off you (just me?) and then get really defiant. You will often hear an ‘Aaaah fuck it, they’ll be worse than me. Just wait, she/ he will be back. They never had it so fucking good’ being slurred at your local pub circa 12:00am.
I have been awake a grand total of 5 hours and I will say that, approximately, 70% of that time has been taken up with thinking/ daydreaming about relationships. What might happen? What went wrong with previous ones? Other people I like? Bad things I can do. Good things I can do. What attitude I should adopt. And I can do all this whilst almost fully functioning on other tasks.
Now, what the hell did I fill my head with before I hit puberty?? In between going to school, watching TV and playing computer games there must have been periods when I wasn’t entertained. Did I just sit there staring, dribbling down my chin and thinking about a smoking monkey bashing symbols?
Nowadays, my conversations revolve around work, relationships and my childhood; which I clearly don’t remember very well. And now I have mentioned it, see how much you begin to spot it too. Let’s start a revolution...let’s have lobotomies and learn to think freely again!
Somebody asked me a question the other day and it has been niggling at me -
‘Before we started getting ourselves into relationships what did we think about?’
And since someone asked me this question, it has become really apparent how long I do spend thinking about my love life. And I don’t even have a love life. So how long do people who have love lives spend thinking about them?!
If you like someone, or love them, then they will be one of the first things you think about when you wake up. When in the shower you will probably be thinking either how much you don’t want to go to work or (more likely) how much you would like to be having sex with that person in the shower.
When on the way to work you will probably be listening to music, thinking about them.
If you’re job is as tedious and boring as mine, you will probably think about relationships to get you through the monotonous day.
When you talk to people you ask about their romantic lives (although I’m with Bridget Jones in thinking this is very rude).
When you’re with your friends you give them an update on a drama or, if you’re lucky, how future plans are going.
When drunk, you rant and rave, maybe cry and sing really depressing songs. You have your phone taken off you (just me?) and then get really defiant. You will often hear an ‘Aaaah fuck it, they’ll be worse than me. Just wait, she/ he will be back. They never had it so fucking good’ being slurred at your local pub circa 12:00am.
I have been awake a grand total of 5 hours and I will say that, approximately, 70% of that time has been taken up with thinking/ daydreaming about relationships. What might happen? What went wrong with previous ones? Other people I like? Bad things I can do. Good things I can do. What attitude I should adopt. And I can do all this whilst almost fully functioning on other tasks.
Now, what the hell did I fill my head with before I hit puberty?? In between going to school, watching TV and playing computer games there must have been periods when I wasn’t entertained. Did I just sit there staring, dribbling down my chin and thinking about a smoking monkey bashing symbols?
Nowadays, my conversations revolve around work, relationships and my childhood; which I clearly don’t remember very well. And now I have mentioned it, see how much you begin to spot it too. Let’s start a revolution...let’s have lobotomies and learn to think freely again!
Monday, May 19, 2008
Where is the Love?
Hi, Mr here,
Isn't it nice to have Miss back in the game?
I have had a truly awful time with the 'boyfriend' (I refuse to acknowledge him as an actual boyfriend) this week. First of all I saw him completely naked from head to toe with the lights on for the first time. That wasn't nice. Secondly he is taking this whole mini-break plan very seriously and has actually booked time off work and is putting pressure on me to do the same. There is nothing I would rather do less than spend a large portion of my hard-earned, plus an entire 48 hours of precious holiday time, on my pitiful, desperate, sexless relationship.
He has to go.
I came to this final conclusion this weekend. As I lay awake in bed next to him, curled up foetus-like so my body wasn't touching his, I began to wander 'where did it all go wrong?' Surely this point in a relationship is meant to be the best part. You've been together long enough to not be nervous around them yet not together long enough for anything to be boring. The thought of seeing them again is exciting, the sex is still new and, more importantly, varied and you are completely willing to sacrifice work, friends and sleep just to spend an extra minute with them.
And here I was pretending to be asleep, faking a loud cartoonish snoring noise just so he would stop pawing at me and leave me be.
I realised I hate him.
The next morning I noticed a new addition to his stinking pit of a bathroom; the little dish attached to the shower usually used as a soap-dish? Well that's an ashtray. Yes, he or to give him the benefit of the doubt his cousin, smokes whilst in the shower. Now I love smoking as much as the next man but at which point have you so given up on life that you smoke whilst in the shower?
The final realisation that I totally and utterley disrespect this man came a few minutes ago when I called him whilst on the toilet. Number 1 and number 2.
I thought about doing it this weekend then I remembered how awful it is to be dumped, and I wouldn't want to inflict that on anyone. So instead I am going to try and be as vile as I possibly can in order to get him to dump me. May as well make a game out of it.
Isn't it nice to have Miss back in the game?
I have had a truly awful time with the 'boyfriend' (I refuse to acknowledge him as an actual boyfriend) this week. First of all I saw him completely naked from head to toe with the lights on for the first time. That wasn't nice. Secondly he is taking this whole mini-break plan very seriously and has actually booked time off work and is putting pressure on me to do the same. There is nothing I would rather do less than spend a large portion of my hard-earned, plus an entire 48 hours of precious holiday time, on my pitiful, desperate, sexless relationship.
He has to go.
I came to this final conclusion this weekend. As I lay awake in bed next to him, curled up foetus-like so my body wasn't touching his, I began to wander 'where did it all go wrong?' Surely this point in a relationship is meant to be the best part. You've been together long enough to not be nervous around them yet not together long enough for anything to be boring. The thought of seeing them again is exciting, the sex is still new and, more importantly, varied and you are completely willing to sacrifice work, friends and sleep just to spend an extra minute with them.
And here I was pretending to be asleep, faking a loud cartoonish snoring noise just so he would stop pawing at me and leave me be.
I realised I hate him.
The next morning I noticed a new addition to his stinking pit of a bathroom; the little dish attached to the shower usually used as a soap-dish? Well that's an ashtray. Yes, he or to give him the benefit of the doubt his cousin, smokes whilst in the shower. Now I love smoking as much as the next man but at which point have you so given up on life that you smoke whilst in the shower?
The final realisation that I totally and utterley disrespect this man came a few minutes ago when I called him whilst on the toilet. Number 1 and number 2.
I thought about doing it this weekend then I remembered how awful it is to be dumped, and I wouldn't want to inflict that on anyone. So instead I am going to try and be as vile as I possibly can in order to get him to dump me. May as well make a game out of it.
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
Hot Child in the City
Morning! Miss here,
looks like the weather has finally gone back to being shit and the official British Summer is over. I'm just going to check the BBC weather report to confirm this...Er yes,it's going to piss it down in 5 minutes apparently.
Yay! So this gives me a little hindsight. We've had 2 weeks of gloriously warm weather and I have completely wasted them, as usual. Most 'normal' gay people, like our housemate Scot, would have taken ample opportunity to sit in Soho square, mill around the bars in Soho after work, head down to Brighton beach and generally walk about in the sun looking all tanned and gorgeous whilst looking at other tanned and gorgeous people.
Not me though. For example - last night whilst Scot was out drinking on Old Compton St, I was forcing my way through a Z list celebrity keep fit dvd with F. On the weekend, Scot invited me up to Hampstead to check out the rich gays, I went to check out my friend's new patio set (oooooh). On Monday we went down to the Sex and the City premiere (to stand outside like losers) and after seeing the back of SJP's head decided to go for dinner. We picked Nandos...with not one gay person to be found.
Actually though, if I stop and think about it, I'm not actually missing out on anything. In the true British fashion of 'Oh My God it's SUNNY! Let's take off most of our clothes and grab some sunglasses', I would have walked into Soho Square and been blinded by a sea of pasty bodies in oversized Gucci shades and, the new lesbian shoe of choice, those Brazilian flip flops (see I'm so crap I don't even know their name). In amongst the sea of skin will be a few orange beacons - fake tanning gone wrong. And the wasps will be going mental because all the boys have bought Calippos to 'show off' on, coupled with dousing themselves in a gallon of summery aftershave.
looks like the weather has finally gone back to being shit and the official British Summer is over. I'm just going to check the BBC weather report to confirm this...Er yes,it's going to piss it down in 5 minutes apparently.
Yay! So this gives me a little hindsight. We've had 2 weeks of gloriously warm weather and I have completely wasted them, as usual. Most 'normal' gay people, like our housemate Scot, would have taken ample opportunity to sit in Soho square, mill around the bars in Soho after work, head down to Brighton beach and generally walk about in the sun looking all tanned and gorgeous whilst looking at other tanned and gorgeous people.
Not me though. For example - last night whilst Scot was out drinking on Old Compton St, I was forcing my way through a Z list celebrity keep fit dvd with F. On the weekend, Scot invited me up to Hampstead to check out the rich gays, I went to check out my friend's new patio set (oooooh). On Monday we went down to the Sex and the City premiere (to stand outside like losers) and after seeing the back of SJP's head decided to go for dinner. We picked Nandos...with not one gay person to be found.
Actually though, if I stop and think about it, I'm not actually missing out on anything. In the true British fashion of 'Oh My God it's SUNNY! Let's take off most of our clothes and grab some sunglasses', I would have walked into Soho Square and been blinded by a sea of pasty bodies in oversized Gucci shades and, the new lesbian shoe of choice, those Brazilian flip flops (see I'm so crap I don't even know their name). In amongst the sea of skin will be a few orange beacons - fake tanning gone wrong. And the wasps will be going mental because all the boys have bought Calippos to 'show off' on, coupled with dousing themselves in a gallon of summery aftershave.
Saturday, May 10, 2008
I Got the Power
Miss here,
I am having the most boring Saturday afternoon ever. I can't remember when I had a Saturday with nothing to do. It is horrible. And what's worse, is that I have done this to myself. I have been exercising my will power.I don't know if you remember, but a while ago I mentioned I had been indulging in some flirtation with my 'surrogate girlfriend', who already has a girlfriend. We decided this should stop. But it hasn't and now it's complicated and we're not allowed to see each other. So that was my weekend plans a bit scuppered. And everyone else that I would like to hang out with has made other plans. So now I am here alone. Using my will power to not go running off to places I shouldn't. Well done me.
To fill up this time I have decided to keep busy. This morning, as it was a beautiful day I thought I would do some sun bathing in the garden. But then I thought 'No that's bad. I have been saying I will sort out the garden for weeks and so that is what I should do today'. I dragged my arse out of bed and did some horrible gardening with lots of bugs using my will power. Time of my life.
By the time I had finished the garden I was hungry so I went to Tesco to buy some bacon. When I got there I felt guilty - don't have bacon sandwiches cos Summer is here and you want to stay thin. Using my will power I bought All Bran and pineapple instead. Yummy.
Got home, sky is now grey and so I can't sunbathe. I was gonna go back to bed and watch some DVDs but that's a waste of a weekend so using my will power I did some washing and cleaned the kitchen. Fun.
Now that's all done I decide to go and get the paper to read. All that was left was The Sun and The Times. Went to reach for The Sun and then remembered it was a rag and that I should be educating myself, picked up The Times instead. Thrilling.
Back inside I thought 'Hmmm a vodka and a cigarette would be lovely to go with my entertaining paper'. Then remembered that drinking on your own in the afternoon is bad and I had promised the NHS nurse that I had quit smoking. Exciting.
Now imagine what life would be like if nobody had any will power and we all went around doing exactly what we wanted. Apart from crime, I don't think it would be that bad. If you were in work and it was a lovely day you could say 'Fuck this, I'm off' and spend the day outside. And then on a cloudy, miserable day like today you could think 'Oh I fancy earning some money, let's go into work'.
In short, today I could be behaving very badly and having lots of fun. But instead I am sat on my computer, drinking a can of pop and ignoring my boring paper. All I can say is - Thank the Lord for will power. Who knows where I would be without it?
Probably having fun!
I am having the most boring Saturday afternoon ever. I can't remember when I had a Saturday with nothing to do. It is horrible. And what's worse, is that I have done this to myself. I have been exercising my will power.I don't know if you remember, but a while ago I mentioned I had been indulging in some flirtation with my 'surrogate girlfriend', who already has a girlfriend. We decided this should stop. But it hasn't and now it's complicated and we're not allowed to see each other. So that was my weekend plans a bit scuppered. And everyone else that I would like to hang out with has made other plans. So now I am here alone. Using my will power to not go running off to places I shouldn't. Well done me.
To fill up this time I have decided to keep busy. This morning, as it was a beautiful day I thought I would do some sun bathing in the garden. But then I thought 'No that's bad. I have been saying I will sort out the garden for weeks and so that is what I should do today'. I dragged my arse out of bed and did some horrible gardening with lots of bugs using my will power. Time of my life.
By the time I had finished the garden I was hungry so I went to Tesco to buy some bacon. When I got there I felt guilty - don't have bacon sandwiches cos Summer is here and you want to stay thin. Using my will power I bought All Bran and pineapple instead. Yummy.
Got home, sky is now grey and so I can't sunbathe. I was gonna go back to bed and watch some DVDs but that's a waste of a weekend so using my will power I did some washing and cleaned the kitchen. Fun.
Now that's all done I decide to go and get the paper to read. All that was left was The Sun and The Times. Went to reach for The Sun and then remembered it was a rag and that I should be educating myself, picked up The Times instead. Thrilling.
Back inside I thought 'Hmmm a vodka and a cigarette would be lovely to go with my entertaining paper'. Then remembered that drinking on your own in the afternoon is bad and I had promised the NHS nurse that I had quit smoking. Exciting.
Now imagine what life would be like if nobody had any will power and we all went around doing exactly what we wanted. Apart from crime, I don't think it would be that bad. If you were in work and it was a lovely day you could say 'Fuck this, I'm off' and spend the day outside. And then on a cloudy, miserable day like today you could think 'Oh I fancy earning some money, let's go into work'.
In short, today I could be behaving very badly and having lots of fun. But instead I am sat on my computer, drinking a can of pop and ignoring my boring paper. All I can say is - Thank the Lord for will power. Who knows where I would be without it?
Probably having fun!
Thursday, May 8, 2008
Tall, Blonde, Dark and Lean, Rough and Tough and Strong and Mean
Good evening, Mr here.
I hope you are enjoying the lovely summer weather we've been having. I know I have; cooped up inside writing blogs obviously. I would go outside with the other human beings but a) I have no friends and b) I felt particularly inspired after reading Miss' last blog. It got me thinking (in a Carrie Bradshaw kind of way) about my ex boyfriends and the different types of gay men out there.
I've never really had a type. All of my boyfriends have been totally different in terms of looks and personality. Let's see how they fit into the universal-gay-man-type-spectrum.
Mr Nice Guy
He loves his mum more than anything in the world, second only to his homework, pet dog, and passion for either languages or classical piano.
Is most likely to be found: at a school-disco night, wearing shirt and tie, (pencilled on freckles and all) doing perfect routines to Steps' back catalogue whilst drinking Smirnoff Ice. Bless Him.
The Gay Geek
Attempts to hide his insecurities by allowing a huge, usually unhealthy obsession take over his life. These usually take the form of an ongoing TV drama, 1940's screen goddess or US pop diva. In place of a personality they will have a well dusted CD/DVD collection.
Is most likely to be found: at a Mariah Carey concert or in a DVD shop pointing out favourite 'classics' such as 'Glitter' and 'Sisteract' to a bored looking fag-hag.
The Stereotype
Depressingly more common than you think. Stereotypical gays literally have no personality. They live for designer clothes, the gym and crap dance music. And it's all geared towards them having more sex with other completely dull, like minded air-headed 'himbos'. Dumb girls LOVE them.
Is most likely to be found: In reality? In their rooms, taking photos of themselves in the mirror. Or slightly from above while they look off into the 'distance'.
The Pop-Culture Vulture
His finger will be on the pulse of anything 'cool'. At the moment this appears to be skinny jeans and trainers with stars on. Unfortunately it also means talking non-stop about crap bands and nintendo Wii. Will almost definitely be able to draw.
In most likely to be found: Updating his facebook status. Via his mobile phone.
The All-Rounder
These guys appear to be amazing at first. Very good 'on paper'. Intelligent, good-looking, usually straight acting, popular and funny. Perfect boyfriend material. Trouble is they are always bad kissers and/or crap in bed. Too much time doing the extra-curricular activities to worry about the important things.
Is most likely to be found: In a drama production, or in a rugby match or doing charity work.
The thing that is depressing me the most about this list is that they are all negative. That's why I'mgoing to stop now.
Where are the good types?
I hope you are enjoying the lovely summer weather we've been having. I know I have; cooped up inside writing blogs obviously. I would go outside with the other human beings but a) I have no friends and b) I felt particularly inspired after reading Miss' last blog. It got me thinking (in a Carrie Bradshaw kind of way) about my ex boyfriends and the different types of gay men out there.
I've never really had a type. All of my boyfriends have been totally different in terms of looks and personality. Let's see how they fit into the universal-gay-man-type-spectrum.
Mr Nice Guy
He loves his mum more than anything in the world, second only to his homework, pet dog, and passion for either languages or classical piano.
Is most likely to be found: at a school-disco night, wearing shirt and tie, (pencilled on freckles and all) doing perfect routines to Steps' back catalogue whilst drinking Smirnoff Ice. Bless Him.
The Gay Geek
Attempts to hide his insecurities by allowing a huge, usually unhealthy obsession take over his life. These usually take the form of an ongoing TV drama, 1940's screen goddess or US pop diva. In place of a personality they will have a well dusted CD/DVD collection.
Is most likely to be found: at a Mariah Carey concert or in a DVD shop pointing out favourite 'classics' such as 'Glitter' and 'Sisteract' to a bored looking fag-hag.
The Stereotype
Depressingly more common than you think. Stereotypical gays literally have no personality. They live for designer clothes, the gym and crap dance music. And it's all geared towards them having more sex with other completely dull, like minded air-headed 'himbos'. Dumb girls LOVE them.
Is most likely to be found: In reality? In their rooms, taking photos of themselves in the mirror. Or slightly from above while they look off into the 'distance'.
The Pop-Culture Vulture
His finger will be on the pulse of anything 'cool'. At the moment this appears to be skinny jeans and trainers with stars on. Unfortunately it also means talking non-stop about crap bands and nintendo Wii. Will almost definitely be able to draw.
In most likely to be found: Updating his facebook status. Via his mobile phone.
The All-Rounder
These guys appear to be amazing at first. Very good 'on paper'. Intelligent, good-looking, usually straight acting, popular and funny. Perfect boyfriend material. Trouble is they are always bad kissers and/or crap in bed. Too much time doing the extra-curricular activities to worry about the important things.
Is most likely to be found: In a drama production, or in a rugby match or doing charity work.
The thing that is depressing me the most about this list is that they are all negative. That's why I'mgoing to stop now.
Where are the good types?
All Just a Little Bit of History Repeating
Miss here,
WHAT IS YOUR TYPE?
I'm sure that's a question you have been asked before. Blondes? Brunettes? Tall? Chubby? Baby Dyke? Gimps? Half Russian, 1 legged ex prostitutes from Uruguay who only wear polyester?
Do you ever wonder if you're on a dating loophole? And you are, in fact, dating the same girl/ boy over and over again but they just have some clever disguises?
I have liked one type of girl since I was 16, physically speaking - suffice to say, most of the girls I fancy are straight. But I'm beginning to notice I may be attracted to one type of personality - Mean Girls. Not like the film version where they walk around looking like mini Barbie dolls (not my type). Just somewhat self involved, unattainable, emotional and somewhat prone to dramatics.
Now I'm a romantic. A stupid romantic. I will often be found mooning around London listening to movie soundtracks on my iPod and imagining sweeping, grand romantic gestures (it's sad I know). I think 'Beauty & the Beast' is a very lovely, and feasible, way to begin a relationship. And I think this may be the problem.
I don't want to meet someone, go on some lovely dates and settle down to live happily ever after. I want movie love. I want to meet someone, be blown away and have some massive romantic drama where you have to fight for someone and almost lose them. That running through the rain, chasing someone at the airport, moving to the other side of the world type of love.
However, I seem to get to the point where you think they are lost forever...and they are. There's no resolution. There's no running after someone in the rain, I'm not on my way to Heathrow and I'm certainly not typing this from my beach house in Bermuda. It's generally just a 'We shouldn't see each other anymore' and then I wait for them to either come running after me or for a sign that I should go running after them. Never happens.
I studied psychoanalysis for a while and I'm beginning to realise - What if it's me and not them?? What if I'm the one that's actually just somewhat self involved, unattainable, emotional and somewhat prone to dramatics?
Don't answer that.
WHAT IS YOUR TYPE?
I'm sure that's a question you have been asked before. Blondes? Brunettes? Tall? Chubby? Baby Dyke? Gimps? Half Russian, 1 legged ex prostitutes from Uruguay who only wear polyester?
Do you ever wonder if you're on a dating loophole? And you are, in fact, dating the same girl/ boy over and over again but they just have some clever disguises?
I have liked one type of girl since I was 16, physically speaking - suffice to say, most of the girls I fancy are straight. But I'm beginning to notice I may be attracted to one type of personality - Mean Girls. Not like the film version where they walk around looking like mini Barbie dolls (not my type). Just somewhat self involved, unattainable, emotional and somewhat prone to dramatics.
Now I'm a romantic. A stupid romantic. I will often be found mooning around London listening to movie soundtracks on my iPod and imagining sweeping, grand romantic gestures (it's sad I know). I think 'Beauty & the Beast' is a very lovely, and feasible, way to begin a relationship. And I think this may be the problem.
I don't want to meet someone, go on some lovely dates and settle down to live happily ever after. I want movie love. I want to meet someone, be blown away and have some massive romantic drama where you have to fight for someone and almost lose them. That running through the rain, chasing someone at the airport, moving to the other side of the world type of love.
However, I seem to get to the point where you think they are lost forever...and they are. There's no resolution. There's no running after someone in the rain, I'm not on my way to Heathrow and I'm certainly not typing this from my beach house in Bermuda. It's generally just a 'We shouldn't see each other anymore' and then I wait for them to either come running after me or for a sign that I should go running after them. Never happens.
I studied psychoanalysis for a while and I'm beginning to realise - What if it's me and not them?? What if I'm the one that's actually just somewhat self involved, unattainable, emotional and somewhat prone to dramatics?
Don't answer that.
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
Mr and Miss's Four Month Reunion
Mr here,
So I couldn't stand to be away from Miss any longer and decided to pay her a visit in good old LDN.
First night of the weekend we decided to go to the new, re-vamped Popstarz which was nice. Aparently Miss got a bit lairy and punched some poor guy in the face but I missed this as I was too busy being held hostage at the bar by some Ving Rhames look-a-like. I think the conversation went something like this:
VING: (massive rippling muscle arm around me) "Can I buy you those drinks?"
ME: "No that's fine thanks.
VING: Is that girl you're dancing with your girlfriend?"
ME: "...yes, definitely, without a doubt"
VING: "So you're bisexual then?"
ME: "No, I am 100% heterosexual, me and my girlfriend have actual sexual intercourse every single day, in the vagina and everything."
VING: "Do you want me to stop touching you?"
ME: "More than you could imagine."
I also managed to pull someone who (I think) I rather liked which is a shame as I now live miles and miles away and also as I am in a committed relationship with the boyf. It made me think it really is time to end it wth him. To be honest I'm tired of being the butt of Miss' jokes about my ridiculous boyfriends and think it might be nice to go out with somebody who I actually like. Just a thought.
I would also like to say how much I agree with Miss' previous blog comments. This weekend I bumped into a guy who I dated well over a year ago. He didn't want to see me again because I was 'too shy', which is a laugh, and never spoke to me again when I then later gatecrashed a blind date I knew he was going on (from social-networking-site-stalking) and preventing them from sleeping together by forcing myself into his bed between them and throwing up an awful lot. This time however I looked the shit, acted (moderately) cool and made sure I was snogging someone else at the end of the night.
I'm never bitter about being rejected.
So I couldn't stand to be away from Miss any longer and decided to pay her a visit in good old LDN.
First night of the weekend we decided to go to the new, re-vamped Popstarz which was nice. Aparently Miss got a bit lairy and punched some poor guy in the face but I missed this as I was too busy being held hostage at the bar by some Ving Rhames look-a-like. I think the conversation went something like this:
VING: (massive rippling muscle arm around me) "Can I buy you those drinks?"
ME: "No that's fine thanks.
VING: Is that girl you're dancing with your girlfriend?"
ME: "...yes, definitely, without a doubt"
VING: "So you're bisexual then?"
ME: "No, I am 100% heterosexual, me and my girlfriend have actual sexual intercourse every single day, in the vagina and everything."
VING: "Do you want me to stop touching you?"
ME: "More than you could imagine."
I also managed to pull someone who (I think) I rather liked which is a shame as I now live miles and miles away and also as I am in a committed relationship with the boyf. It made me think it really is time to end it wth him. To be honest I'm tired of being the butt of Miss' jokes about my ridiculous boyfriends and think it might be nice to go out with somebody who I actually like. Just a thought.
I would also like to say how much I agree with Miss' previous blog comments. This weekend I bumped into a guy who I dated well over a year ago. He didn't want to see me again because I was 'too shy', which is a laugh, and never spoke to me again when I then later gatecrashed a blind date I knew he was going on (from social-networking-site-stalking) and preventing them from sleeping together by forcing myself into his bed between them and throwing up an awful lot. This time however I looked the shit, acted (moderately) cool and made sure I was snogging someone else at the end of the night.
I'm never bitter about being rejected.
Saturday, May 3, 2008
It's a small world after all
Miss here,
yes I know I have been rather quiet lately but I have a good excuse. I have been in hiding. In my room. Every night. Scared to do anything. Oh yes, and the internet has only recently been reconnected after we didn't pay the bill for 6 months.
It has recently come to my attention how tiny the lesbian community actually is. I am now insanely paranoid that I will write something and somebody on here will think 'hmmm that sounds like somebody I know'. They in turn will mention it to some other lesbian they know, who mention it some lesbian who lives in Krakow, who will call a lesbian in Uzbekhistan, who will email a lesbian in Dubai, who will then call a lesbian in London and say 'some girl on Facebook is writing about you'. Then all hell will break loose because I may or may not have written something on here about someone that does or does not actually exist.
Think I'm crazy? No. Here is my evidence -
1. Whilst out in a city other than London I happened to point out to my mate's girlfriend that some girl was fit. The reply I received was 'oh yeah her name is Emma (anyone on here know an Emma?), she's shagged a,b,c,d,e,f,g,h....and is an absolute slag but is apparently an amazing shag.' So my next sensible question was 'So how do you know her then?'
'Oh I don't. But I know X, who is friends with Y and Y's ex Z shagged her last year.' Oh right.
2. I went to a party a few weeks ago and my mate asked who else was going to be there. So I mentioned some friends of the girl who was throwing the party that I'd heard were going. Next thing, I was listening to a tirade of personal information about this girl's personal life. Things you would only usually tell close friends or a therapist. So, logically, i then asked 'Oh how do you know this girl?' Reply? 'I don't. She's seeing this girl I know that lives in another part of Britain.' So I mention this to the girl who is throwing the party. Apaarently it's all wrong and they were never seeing each other and I'm getting a load of personal information about the girl who lives in another part of Britain that she has never met either.
Guarantee, if you are a lesbian and you do a random search on Facebook, pick a lesbian you have never seen before and click on 'mutual friends', she will know a person you do.
I'm too scared to open my mouth. I dread to think about what the girls' in Uzbekhistan have heard about me!!
I'm going back to my room now.
yes I know I have been rather quiet lately but I have a good excuse. I have been in hiding. In my room. Every night. Scared to do anything. Oh yes, and the internet has only recently been reconnected after we didn't pay the bill for 6 months.
It has recently come to my attention how tiny the lesbian community actually is. I am now insanely paranoid that I will write something and somebody on here will think 'hmmm that sounds like somebody I know'. They in turn will mention it to some other lesbian they know, who mention it some lesbian who lives in Krakow, who will call a lesbian in Uzbekhistan, who will email a lesbian in Dubai, who will then call a lesbian in London and say 'some girl on Facebook is writing about you'. Then all hell will break loose because I may or may not have written something on here about someone that does or does not actually exist.
Think I'm crazy? No. Here is my evidence -
1. Whilst out in a city other than London I happened to point out to my mate's girlfriend that some girl was fit. The reply I received was 'oh yeah her name is Emma (anyone on here know an Emma?), she's shagged a,b,c,d,e,f,g,h....and is an absolute slag but is apparently an amazing shag.' So my next sensible question was 'So how do you know her then?'
'Oh I don't. But I know X, who is friends with Y and Y's ex Z shagged her last year.' Oh right.
2. I went to a party a few weeks ago and my mate asked who else was going to be there. So I mentioned some friends of the girl who was throwing the party that I'd heard were going. Next thing, I was listening to a tirade of personal information about this girl's personal life. Things you would only usually tell close friends or a therapist. So, logically, i then asked 'Oh how do you know this girl?' Reply? 'I don't. She's seeing this girl I know that lives in another part of Britain.' So I mention this to the girl who is throwing the party. Apaarently it's all wrong and they were never seeing each other and I'm getting a load of personal information about the girl who lives in another part of Britain that she has never met either.
Guarantee, if you are a lesbian and you do a random search on Facebook, pick a lesbian you have never seen before and click on 'mutual friends', she will know a person you do.
I'm too scared to open my mouth. I dread to think about what the girls' in Uzbekhistan have heard about me!!
I'm going back to my room now.
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