Worst Gays

You have to meet my mate Miss - she's just maaaaaaaad

2009-04-02T11:41:00.000-07:00

Miss here...finally,

So it's probably been about a year or so since I have actually done anything on here. Sorry about that. I was busy getting myself into all sorts of tangled lesbian messes and heartbreak. Suffice to say, it wasn't a great year. This is what happens when Mr goes away, I have nobody telling me the sensible thing to do and, when left to my own devices, I tend to get a little (what's the word?) mental. Yes mental. That seems appropriate.

I have discovered that I am actually an emotional freak. Lovely. I have actually been referred to a psychotherapist by my doctor now because I am obviously in need of some rewiring.

Unfortunately I am not one of those mentals that goes mad, calls people crying, rants and raves, threatens to harm myself and others, takes a load of drugs and then goes running off into the night to find myself. No, I simply say nothing and vomit. Alot. Excessively some might say.

Quite a catch no? Form and orderly queue girls - one emotionally vacuous, very cheap dinner date available here who's also a great listener.

Therefore I have decided that the best thing to do is just stay away from lesbians altogether and then I will not be ill. In order to stay away from lesbians the best strategy seems to be leaving London, cos lesbians are everywhere in London. You can't move without bumping into a lesbian somewhere that knows someone you know. It certainly does not help my paranoia when I meet someone and they say 'Oh Miss, yeah I have heard of you. You know so and so'. Why have they heard about me? What have they heard? It's not normal!!! To be fair, nobody has ever heard anything bad about me. But that's besides the point. In my weird little head the whole of London is out to get me for reasons I can't understand. I am sure my therapist will say I obviously have some grand sense of self importance. She or he is probably right.

I have been thinking that I shall either do a Mr and go travelling to exotic places where I cannot speak to women because they don't speak English. But then I also have ideas of buying a little house in the country and getting a dog - sadly I have no money to buy a house and I would have to get a full time job and so can't have a dog. The last plan was convincing a group of investors I know to open a lesbian bar with me in Soho. That would cause something of an issue when trying to avoid lesbians but I am sure I can work around it. I just won't look at anyone when taking their drink orders and won't say anything. I will be world renowned for my hospitality. Lesbos will flock from all over to see the world's most sullen barmaid.

Other changes I have thought about -
* moving to the South of France (can't speak French)
* moving to America (the most realistic one yet, but the bastards won't give me a visa)
* inventing the digital autograph book (I know nothing about technology)
* running for Prime Minister at the next election (I think all one would need is a personality to win)
* winning an Oscar (I really need to write something Oscar worthy - or anything at all)
* applying to go on the next series of Paris Hilton's British Best Friend
* becoming best mates with Cheryl Cole (purely unselfish reasons - she obviously needs a good friend to tell her that Ashley is a waste of space)
* becoming a vigilante superhero (I have no money to create weapons and no superhuman powers have manifested themselves yet)

But the only thing I have done is joined a gym. Z says I need some direction in my life. Not many people know what they want to do so just spend their time idling away.

"A decision is better than no decision" she says. So I have decided to watch the next series of Dexter. There - someone more mental than me.

The Gay in Straight Man's Clothing

2008-08-28T11:15:00.000-07:00

Mr here,

So I decided to go on a date wit the nice Geordie fellow. It turned out he was cycling all the way from Newcastle to London (impressive I know) and stopping off in my town for the night. So we decided to meet up so I could 'show him the sights'. Before we met he called to warn me that, as he was obviously travelling ultra-light on his travels, he would be a bit scruffy. 'Cool' I though, he's not going to be a prick.

We met in a pub, got along great, and...AND I actually fancied him. For the first time in 2 years I was on a date with someone I fancied and could not believe it. And even nice, wa sthe fact that he didn't seem to have a cynical bone in his body. He was so happy and sweet and innocent that when he asked me if I wanted to go up to his hotel room for a drink, it really was just for a drink. And a soft one at that. However when we'd gotten into bed, his innocence showed in other ways...

Ok so basically I just don't get how a man can get to the ripe old age of 30 and still not decided if he fancies fannies or cocks. He claimed to be bisexual, yet had never even kissed a bloke (and refused out-right to kiss me). He claimed to have slept with girls before yet acted completely and totally gob-smacked when, well, I think this choice quote sums it all up: "Eee I cannae believe you're sucking me cock like, tha's champion that is pet". He literally gave a running commentary all the way through. And then after he'd cum and I lay there wallowing in self pity at the thought of adding yet another morbidly fascinating though horrifically eccentric notch to my bedpost, he took the matter into his own hands and talked himself through the motions like a kid tying their shoelaces. I very nearly screamed 'Just fucking toss me off already!' Fortunately I didn't, instead just swatting him away like a pesky fly, leaving him to enthusiastically comment on his sexual awakenings.

Feeling a bit that woman off that programme who deflowered that poor 40 year old virgin, I left the hotel the next morning and crept into my bed hoping nobody would notice I had been gone. It wasn't long before I had a text from the Geordie telling me what a great time he'd had and how I made him feel 'elated'.

Elated.

Since then I have had numerous drunken texts from him telling me he can 'still smell [me]' Clearly I have created a monster and it's such a shame because he had an amaaaaazing body.

Win a Date With Mr Worst Gay

2008-08-16T14:29:00.000-07:00

Hi, Mr here,

So, turn up for the books, I have 3 people asking me for dates. And I need your help to decide which one to go on. To cut to the chase the options are between:

1) Some guy I got off with about 3 months ago in Popstarz. He has been bugging me to go down to London to see him ever since. I, for love nor money, cannot remember what he looks like. On the phone he sounds posh and nice. But that's on the phone. My friend F say she was nice in person, but she is genereally unreliable. He is rich and has a good job and a lovely family by the sounds of it.

I did however manage to coax his surname out of him so I do believe that a social networking site stalking mission will commence in order to find further information.

2) A significantly older gentleman (43 no less) who I have been chatting to for well over a year. We have never met but do have an awful lot in common (I, having significantly older siblings, have always favoured the older campanion). He is rich and well travelled and I want to be rich and well travelled. He has already offered to take me to Milan, Amsterdam and Australia. Thing is, I - having already decided that at the age of 43 there could not possibly be any physical attraction there whatsoever - have never even dared glance at a photo of the guy (despite them being readily available). Thing is though I will quite readily sleep with people in exchange for financial/material gain. I do believe this is called prostitution. However when at universiaty and you are in desperate need of a hot meal and a 20 deck of marlboro lights you over look this fact. Even when you and your flatmate are bored on a bank holiday monday and have a sudden urge to watch the Lion King, sleeping with a horrifically overweight and sweaty ex-boyfriend purely in order to acquire said DVD seems acceptable. So in conclusion, he is a definite option. Poor guy.

3) Last and by no means least is a guy I have recently been conversing with via a dating webiste. He lives rather far away (Newcastle) but is actually good looking would you believe. And aren't all Geordie's lovely? Cheryl Cole - check, my best friend up north (C) - check, Jimmy Nail, Check. Anyway he is 'stopping by' in my little town for one night next weekend and really does want to meet up.

Here are my parametres:

I am saving like nothing else to go travelling next year and have already bought my round-the-world ticket. I can afford but one social night a month and this means 2 pints down the local. Ergo I can only afford to go on one of these dates. Posh guy wants me to go to London which, fair enough I would gladly do, but would easily get wrapped up spending time with Miss and the gang. Older guy wants to take me to all sorts of after parties and cool places but, again, it means going to London.
Geordie Racer is coming to my town which means no excessive spending. Plus I actually fancy him. But he is VERY keen. Which is rubbish. Right?

Ideas? Thoughts?

It's a Nice Day for a White Wedding

2008-08-04T02:56:00.000-07:00

Hi there, Mr here

This time of year means only 1 thing. Actually 2. Gay pride festivals and wedding season. Gay pride perhaps being the antithesis of the celebration of the nuclear family, but because it's hot and sunny and that, they seem to occur around the same time.

This year I didn't have a choice on which to attend as perhaps my nearest and dearest family member was finally tying the knot. After years of listening to her bitch, moan and cry over men I finally got to see her walk up the ailse and commit the rest of her life to the man of her dreams.

However proud this might make me feel I have always had a bit of a problem with attending weddings. I'm not sure if it's a bit of jealousy that I will never really be able to experience it myself, a general uncomfortable feeling I get when faced with such a grand public display of affection (bleurgh) or, most likely, just general boredom at having to stand around so much. Either way I'm just counting down the minutes until I can get my hands on the free booze.

Apart from the general awkward situations of elderly, kept-in-the-dark relatives asking me when I would be getting married I had to face other demeaning situations. The worst occurred during the photo taking bit, when it was demanded that a photo be taken of 'all siblings and their partners'. Of course, I am the only one without a partner. So I had to stand on the end, alone. I even got the sense the photographer would have preferred me not be in it as I was ruining the symmetry of the shot. My sister tried to make some joke about enlisting the services of one of the cute waiters to act as my partner but I think she was missing the point. I hadn't not brought a 'plus 1' to the wedding because I'm gay. It's because I'm just unloveable.

So in order to keep my morale up for the rest of the night I decided there was only one thing to do to see me through. Get drunk, turn on my own unique charm and make a bee-line for the older, fun-loving single females, who always love me.

It helped somewhat that I had pulled off an absolutely awesome (and wonderfully camp) tongue-in-cheek reading previously at the church and had been congratulated on my perfect comic timing since. However come the wrapping up of the ceremonies, and after the bride and groom had had their first dance, the attention of the guests were starting to draw towards their other halves in slow dances and not the bride's pissed little brother. So, in order to regain that attention I performed an absolutely spot-on 'Dirty Dancing Lift', courtesy of a couple of big strong men who paraded me around the dance floor like something out of the 'Material Girl' video. Needless to say it was very well received.

Of course I joke somewhat and realise that it was indeed the bride and groom's special day. However come 6am when literally everyone has gone to bed bar the gay younger brother, the single mum in her 30s, her teenage daughter and her honorary 'auntie', and we all have to crash in the same hotel room in order to save money, making prnak phone calls to reception while all the couples enjoy each other's compnay in their nice double rooms; I couldn't help but think that weddings just don't favour the single.

Got Myself a Walking, Talking, Crying, Something Living Doll

2008-06-11T10:24:00.001-07:00

Miss here,

So I have recently joined the world of internet dating. I have generally avoided this because I have always dreaded the question “So where did you two meet?” and having to reply “A website”. Cue knowing smirks and the fact that everyone knows you’re a loser that can’t get a date with anyone that’s not desperate.

But apparently that’s not the case in Gay World. I recently found out the three of my close couple friends all met online. And they’re good looking people, there’s no reason that they would have to do this. So I did some asking and got the reply ‘Oh God Miss how fucking old are you? Everyone knows the lesbian scene is shite so you have to pick and mix your own’. Oh right then.

Thing is did try it before. That’s how I ended up with the paedophile girl. And I got kicked off Gaydar Girls for apparently being homophobic. All I said was that I had been forced to join this website by my best friend who has a gun to my head and I don’t want to hear from any of you freaks. Now I didn’t mean all lesbians are freaks obviously, I meant that I didn’t want to hear from all those people with emotional issues; and let’s be honest loads of lesbians have ‘issues’.

But the powers that be wouldn’t listen to me and so I was booted out of Gaydar club.
So with those two experiences behind me the closest thing I got to internet dating is poking friends of friends on Facebook. It’s safe, you have things in common, and you don’t look like a mental. But after learning about this new found tolerance I set myself up on a relatively obscure dating website with a serious profile and the one decent pic of myself.

Then I sat back and waited. I thought, I am going to be chased for once. Bring on the girls. I will not go all out to impress someone when they obviously like someone else this time. No, if they come to me then obviously they are interested and that’s half the battle fought.

27 people have contacted me in the last week, in my opinion those are some good odds. Now let me tell you about the people I have heard from...

16 of those don’t have profile pics. Why? It’s not hard. Half the world has a Facebook profile with half their life caught on camera and uploaded. Don’t tell me you don’t know how. It’s obvious you’re ugly.

Following on from this – don’t put your occupation as ‘Model’ if you don’t have a profile pic and you’ve listed your height as 5”2.

Of the 27 there 19 women who don’t even live in the same city as me. In fact one person emailed me from Colorado and another from Syria. I don’t want to be a pessimist but I don’t think that relationship is going to work.

Two women emailed looking for friends. I don’t need friends. I have too many friends if anything. Any time I bloody talk to someone I end up being their friend. Why don’t you have friends in the real world?? Who did you go to school with? Who do you work with? Do you go out?

I have received emails saying things like this “If ure horny an up 4 nefink mail me an we can av sum fun XxXx” and “Hot horney single mum seeks strict partner” and a plethora of people called things like ‘Wild Gal’ and ‘Crazy Chick’ who describe themselves as both wild and crazy. Many would do absolutely anything for a laugh and their friends would describe them as wild and crazy. I don’t know how I gave the impression that I was looking for a horny retard with no self control over any impulses but there we go…

Of the 11 women who have kindly supplied pictures – 5 are obese, 3 look like they are in jail, 2 look like hookers and one is actually attractive, but is a Wild Chick that lives in Northumberland or something.

So I mentioned this to my friend B who is somewhat wiser than me on all things dating and sexual and she kindly told me that internet dating was acceptable about 3 years ago and now people only use the internet to organise group sex. So I asked about all the people that weren’t in relationships and were looking for someone on the internet. Apparently we’re just living sex toys for the happy couples.

How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days

2008-06-11T10:23:00.000-07:00

Hi Mr here,

Sorry it has been so long and that you have had to put up with Miss all this time! I may be wrong but I can't help but feel that in her last blog, definition number 5, the 'Smug Bastard', was maybe a bit of a reference to myself.

Anyway last time we spoke I made a plan to be mean to my 'boyfriend' in an attempt to make him want to break up with me. How did I go about this? Basically I ignored him. I didn't want to actually be mean to him. I'm not nasty. I just acted terrible at responding to texts and phonecalls and when I did reply I excused my tardiness with explanations that would hopefully make him feel ill. Diarrhea, hemorrhoids you name it I had it and it was impeding me from contacting or seeing him.

It's now been about three weeks since I saw him or even really spoke to him. In an attempt to find out how he feels about that I created a fake facebook profile for one of his mates. I then emailed him asking how he was, what he'd been up to, how's his love life etc. And (this is how stupid he is) he fell for it, telling me all I needed to know. 'All blokes are complete nightmares', 'my love life could be loads better' etc etc.

He hasn't attempted contact for a week now. i think the message has gotten across.

I'll Get Over You, I Know I Will. I'll Pretend My Ships Not Sinking

2008-06-06T05:15:00.000-07:00

Miss here (again),

Recently I have become surrounded by people that have been jilted in love...myself included. And I have been taking note of the different ways that people use to cope with the feelings of rejection and hurt and what they hope to achieve by it.

1) The Drunk - obviously will spend as much time as possible inebriated. Will change moods quickly; one moment staring vacantly into space, the next singing along to Yaz's 'Only You' with tears in their eyes, followed by an attitude filled rendition of 'I Don't Need a Man' by the Pussycat Dolls and then taking out their phone and to send a muddled heart wrenching yet angry text before having it taken off them. Will end the night lying on the floor with a can of Fosters singing 'Nothing Compares to You' whilst explaining why the words ring true.

What they hope to achieve - they secretly desire the ex that has hurt them will walk in and see the effect they have had. If they can see how hurt you are they will want to rescue you because they can not bare to see you in this much pain. On the flip side, if this doesn't work you will hopefully drink yourself numb of emotions.

The reality - the ex will thank God they managed to get out before your emotional issues bubbled to the surface, you turned to smack to cope and started nicking their stuff to fund your habit. May also find you somewhat pathetic for not being able to handle things.

2) The Bed Ridden - most recently summarised in SATC. Will not get out of bed for weeks, will not leave the house, lives in the dark, will scuttle into a room and lock the door if you approach them. If you do manage to get in their room then they will refuse to look at you and most likely roll over before telling you to 'Just leave me to die' in a quiet, yet heavy, voice.

What they hope to achieve - much like the above, the ex will see the effect they have had on you and will see that your life is not worth living without them. You loved them so much that without them your soul has become lead.

The reality - Your ex probably left you because you're a miserable fucker that constantly sulked when you couldn't get your own way.

3) The Rebounder - Will go out and shag anything that moves and will act like nothing is wrong at all. When questioned about how things are regarding their ex they will usually reply with "Who?? Oh them! God I haven't thought about them for ages, seems like a lifetime ago. Yesterday's news darling. Now have you met 'so and so'. They're a model and a millionaire and have 80 Porsches."

What they hope to achieve - Your ex will see how desirable you are and immediately regret their decision and be consumed by jealousy.

The reality - you're not fooling anyyone. We all know your pride has been damaged and so you're just trying to make yourself feel better. Unfortunately, the rest of the world just thinks you're a slag and your ex will look at you as used and dirty goods.

4) The Sensible - will stay in contact with the ex and try to keep things amicable. Will talk daily about things and try and keep a lid on their temper. The Sensible person will most often be heard saying 'But I really hope we can still be friends'.

What they hope to achieve - They don't want anyone to see that they actually have emotions. That is weakness. In keeping up a charade of pretending to be friends they get to keep the emotional crutch of their relationship and prevent the ex moving on before they do. Either by confusing the ex into wondering if they are actually still together or by making them feel really, really guilty.

The reality - won't last for long. Everyone around the ex will be telling them to put some distance between you and move on. Plus they probably dumped you because you're an unemotional robot with no passion.

5) The Smug Bastard - will pretend that life is absolutely fabulous. In fact, it's never been better. Will secretly stalk their ex and then beat them at whatever they are doing. For example, the Smug Bastard will find out their ex is going to the dog track, so book themselves into the Queen's enclosure at Royal Ascot. They start doing crazy things like skydiving in an attempt to appear interesting. Will probably decide to go travelling and see the world.

What they hope to achieve - this an attempt to say a great big 'FUCK YOU' to your ex. If you had stayed together then you could be partaking in all these interesting adventures with me and your life could be as amazing as mine. But you left me, so now you have to just live your boring, normal life whilst I am out being fabulous.

The reality - your ex probably left you cos you're a boring, smug bastard and your new found 'zest for life' smacks of a man in a midlife crisis. Stop trying so hard, you look desperate.

6) The Stalker - pretty routine. Will call at all hours, send things to work and home, leave you presents, sing songs outside your window. Will probably get nasty after a while if you don't give in. May slaughter a beloved pet and leave it boiling on a stove whilst you are out of the house.

What they hope to achieve - they think they're being super romantic and have put you on a pedastal. You are there to be worshipped...but after a while you must worship me back or I will KILL YOU!!! When the ex realises how much they are loved and how far you are willing to go for that love - how could they possibly refuse you?

The reality - you will only end up with frostbite and a restraining order. Let it go.

Please don't think I am judging you. I am writing this from experience. I have been all of these at one point or another.

Cos I'm taking it, Step by Step

2008-05-27T09:50:00.000-07:00

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.

Misty Water Coloured Memories

2008-05-21T04:16:00.000-07:00

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!

Where is the Love?

2008-05-19T12:46:00.000-07:00

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.

Hot Child in the City

2008-05-14T01:38:00.000-07:00

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.

I Got the Power

2008-05-10T08:43:00.001-07:00

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!

Tall, Blonde, Dark and Lean, Rough and Tough and Strong and Mean

2008-05-08T13:32:00.000-07:00

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?

All Just a Little Bit of History Repeating

2008-05-08T03:53:00.000-07:00

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.

Mr and Miss's Four Month Reunion

2008-05-06T15:49:00.000-07:00

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.

It's a small world after all

2008-05-03T19:09:00.000-07:00

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.

Goodbye My Lover

2008-04-26T14:33:00.000-07:00

Good evening, Mr here (I think Miss may be dead).

This week I said goodbye to the greatest love of my life...cigarettes.

It was a spur of the moment decision. I really just couldn't be bothered to go to the corner shop that day so thought I'd quit instead. Then I began to think of some of the benefits:

1) I wouldn't smell like Dot Cotton (how I imagine her to smell at least)

2) I wouldn't sound like Dot Cotton

3) I wouldn't look like Dot Cotton

4) Basically my life would be less like Dot Cotton's

This, in turn, made me realise that my chances of having sex will increase somewhat. That in turn made me wonder what I may have been missing out on over the last 10 years. I once read in Gay Times (the only time I have ever gone near it and that was only because Miss forced me) that smoking is the thing that gays find the least unattractive; yet somewhat strangely, so many of us do it. Hmmm. Double standards?

After being clean for almost a week I decided I needed to witness this double standard from the other side and went round to see the boyf. Indeed, to a non-smoker, fags are foul. They look, smell and taste horrible. Kissing him was even harder than usual. So much so in fact that the only solution was to temporarily fall off the wagon in order to mask the stench. Cheating a bit I know, but kissing a smoker is foul.

And so today I am clean again. True I am twitchy, slightly irritable and I have developed a cold as apparently my lungs are 'cleaning themselves' and are thus more succeptable to viruses but I am on the road to being more attractive. I hope.

Take a Look at My Boyfriend

2008-04-20T12:34:00.000-07:00

Hi, Mr here, again. Personally I think Miss's recent lack of commitment is disgraceful.

So I was taken to a birthday party for one of the boyf's friends last night. As you can imagine I wasn't keen, as most of his friends are like characters from Shameless. There's 'slaggy Caff', a 40-something single mother who has recently hooked up with a local scag-head 20 years her junior. They went halves on a new crack-pipe last week. I wish I was joking. Then there's his mate who drives around in a black jeep like Stu from 'Queer as Folk' except he's not half as cool or charismatic. I don't even think he's gay. It's hard to tell as he only communicates in grunts.

Deciding I didn't much want to spend any time with these people, I camped outside the entire night, smoking. It was cold and wet but it was worth it.

When the adverse weather conditions got too much I decided something had to be done. I figured the best thing to do would be to act like a complete obnoxious moron in the hope that the boyf would be so embarrassed he would have to quickly make his excuses, usher me into a taxi and leave. So I got straight up on the stage and did my best 'teacher at a school disco' dance that I could. Bashing into people, arms and legs flailing, spilling drinks on them and scowling, the whole time keeping one eye on the boyf to test his reactions. It backfired. Instead of giving me looks of disapproval he had a sappy, endeared look on his face. When I retired from the stage the L-word slipped out again (not the Sapphic US TV drama. That didn't slip out) and again I giggled nervously and pretended I hadn't heard it.

I managed to escape to the safety of the smoking area again. I always think the best course of action to avoid awkward situations is to flee. Here I managed to find some nice, normal, drug free people to converse with - 18 year old girls.

I love hanging out with the youngsters. It reminds me of my own youth.... I also particularly like hanging out with teenage girls. They are fascinated by the fact that you are gay and call you their best friend after having known them for 2 minutes. And they love it when you compliment them and ask to feel their boobs. They also are rather fond of dishing out the compliments and saying what a shame it is that you're gay. They also could not believe I was there with the boyf, as in I could do so much better. A bit harsh maybe but you can't blame them - they're young and naive and don't know the necessity of having to settle for what you can get.

And so I ended my night in a student house, drinking blue WKD, safe in the knowledge that I can do better.

10 Things I Hate About You

2008-04-18T12:32:00.000-07:00

Mr again, hi there!

I should warn you that the following blog does contain profanity and sexual references so any parents reading with their children may want to have a quick skim through before letting their kids read it.

Sorry it's been a while (again). You're probably thinking I've been busy spending time with the new boyf; lazing around in bed all weekend as is mandatory for new couples in the honeymoon period. In reality I have been trying my best to hide from him and his...persistance. Upon realising that he actually looks like a bear (not a bear as in a big hairy gay man, an actual bear) I have limited his visits to one a week, for a few hours at a time. This decision was brought on my a number of catalystic events and discoveries.

1) He came in my eye leaving it sore for the entire next day. I do hope that sexual deseases and/or infections cannot be transmitted this way

2) When I asked to use his bathroom in which to have a quick shower before work I was handed a ripped, smelly brown towel and ushered into a dark room (the light-bulb has been missing since the night we met) that looked like something out of 'Bottom' or 'The Young Ones'.

3) He has just had to enrole on one of those drink driving courses after driving his car, whilst pissed, the whole 200 yards down the road to the local chinese take-away, only to crash into a lamp-post, runaway from the scene of the crime, then deny all knowledge when the police showed up seconds later

4) His favourite films are, and I quote 'I dunno, Pulp Fiction or Titanic I suppose. I've seen both of them a couple of times'

5) His 'best pants' are ripped, faded and saggy

6) One occasion when I was particularly drunk and maybe just a little bit unable to 'perform' I received cheers of encouragement such as 'come on [Mr], come on, come on!' like a dad trying to teach his son to ride a bike. After that there was absolutely no way it was happening.

7) He keeps talking about 'mini-breaks in the Cotswolds'. I honestly have no idea what this phrase means.

8) He keeps repeating the same anecdote about how one time he was in a club dancing near Heather Small from M People, unaware I have a) heard it a thousand times before, and b) that I hate Heather Small.

9) Apart from the aforementioned phrases, he doesn't really talk.

10) He doesn't stock tea in his house.

But despite these traits he is nice and down-to-earth and completely unpretentious. And, in these dire and desperate times, the only offer I've had in a while. Bless him.

The Accidental Boyfriend

2008-04-01T10:28:00.000-07:00

Mr here,

I'm not really sure how to tell you this but I think I have a boyfriend. In a sense.

A couple of weeks ago I went out for an old school friend's birthday. It was nice to see a lot of my old friends I haven't seen for so long and even to finally have an official welcome back to my home-town. But I detected an eerie, almost sinister, over-excitement at my attendance. It seems they were all dead set on setting me up with their poor hang-dog gay friend, literally the 'only gay in the village' who was stood at the bar 'almost in tears' because some guy he met the previous night had failed to call. Knowing that feeling all too well, I rather altruiscally signed up to the challenge of 'participating in a bit of harmless flirtation' put forward by one of our mutual friends.

The problem is I flirt like Alan Partridge. I literally cannot do it. So, desperate to make the poor chap a bit more upbeat (as it was nearing midnight when it would then become his own birthday), I just went for the strategy of getting really pissed and letting him know I'm easy.

What a stupid mistake.

After a cheeky birthday kiss he told me he loved me. Really. I ignored it at first, thinking I must have misheard. Then it came again. This time I laughed it off, thinking maybe he had accidentally said it reflexively, like when you accidentally call your primary school teacher 'Mum'. By the third, fourth and fifth times I was looking for the door. Thankfully I was able to get myself into a taxi and home.

A couple of weeks later and, well, he's my boyfriend. I'm not sure how it happened as everytime I see him I am always dangerously drunk. I have however been sober enough to train him to know say 'like' if he feels the need to blurt out an 'L' word when he feels all warm and fuzzy. He has however mentioned such scary topics as meeting the parents, mini-breaks, and 'the future'.

The funny thing is I should get along with him. Regardless of the fact that I don't really fancy him at all and he seems to be genuinely retarded (he had too much fun in his 'clubbing days' apparently) he is lazy, unkempt, unmotivated and badly dressed, so we should be the perfect match.

And if I'm ugly then so are you...so are you

2008-03-27T06:17:00.000-07:00

I give up I really really do.

How fed up are you of walking down the street and seeing someone really fit with someone really ugly?? How many times to do you meet a friend's partner and actually like them? I can't count how often that has happened on one hand.

There is some massive imbalance in the world, where good people are going out with bad people. I don't know if its something to do with Ying and Yang. Or these people had really good karma owing to them from a previous life. Or whether I am just far too idealistic to settle for someone with a singular flaw. No it's not me, it can't be. I'm perfect.

And how many times have you had your friend moan at you about how much of a knob their partner is only for you to get frustrated in the end and say 'well why are you with him/ her/ it?'

Do you notice how nobody ever gives these answers -

1. Because I'm too scared to be on my own.
2. Because I've just settled.
3. Because it's too much hassle. We share a house/ pet/ income.
4. Because they're rich.
5. I've invested so much time in this relationship that I'm not ready to give up because we're fast approaching the time where we can get married or have a baby and I want that more than I want somebody new.
6. We're going on holiday and I'm worried I'll be the one that has to miss out if we break up.
7. My partner's a homicidal/ suicidal maniac who has scared/ guilt tripped me into being with them.

Nobody (except Mr) has ever actually thought about the reason they are with someone. Most of the time you just get a whiney reply - 'Because I love them'. And if you ask why I bet...I bet you £1 million that 9 times out 10 they will reply in an even more whiney voice - 'I don't know, I just do'.

So people. I am fed up of hearing/ seeing you all walking about with your far too good looking or far too ugly partners and then having to listen to you whine about them. Either break up and readjust the balance or shut up and get on with it.

My Bloody Valentine

2008-02-15T12:37:00.000-08:00

Mr here.

Well it's the day after Valentine's day and finally all the 'merriment' has died down. As all previous February the 14ths I can remember were spent pissed and bitter (either with or without a boyfriend) I decided that this year would be different.

I decided to just FORCE myself to ignore it and be happy. It was great. I have learnt that if you just simply ignore any negative feelings such as loneliness, jealousy or resentment, they just go away. I didn't care at all when:

1) I received no cards
2) I had no texts except from Recurring-ex who wanted to wish me happy Valentine's day 'I hope you don't mind'
3) the office had been 'decorated accordingly'
4) The canteen menu included such offensively titled dishes as 'Flirty Fudgecake', 'Lucious Leeks' etc etc
5) My inbox was plagued with continual threads of Miss and the guys back in London discussing what they are doing to numb the pain. Together. Without me.

It worked for a while but by lunch I realised I couldn't kid myself anymore. I was unhappy, wanted to be with someone and didn't even have Miss to help me through it. By the time I had arrived home to be greeted by a romantic meal of mince, cooked for me by my brother, I decided to cut my losses and go to bed. Surely cutting the day as short as possible would be the best way to end the torture.

Today, realising I am probably never going to experience a happy Valentine's day, decided to enact my revenge by doing the worst, most childish thing possible. I sent a card to the poor naive girl in the office, making out it's from the guy her mate really fancies in order to create a vicious cat-fight born out of jealousy between the two.

If I'm going down I'm taking everyone with me.

My Funny Valentine

2008-02-12T06:45:00.000-08:00

Miss here,

obviously am going to write a blog about Valentine's Day as, surprise surprise, I am single for it again. Whooooooo! This is about my 5th year single on Valentine's Day. Oh my god, how shocking is that?! I am going to email the Guinness Book of records and see if I win an award for 'Most Valentine's Days spent unloved by someone who is not part of a fanatical religious movement'.

If you are single on Valentine's Day, I don't want to make you feel bad, but think of it like this. Child killer Ian Huntley has a boyfriend and his ex, Maxine Carr, still loves him but you can't get anyone. That's right. A child killer is more desirable than you (and me). Don't feel bad about it, it's perfectly understandable - he kills children but you (and me) are just far too dull to contemplate sending a card too. Great.

Some noteable Valentine's Day highlights over the past few years.

1) Asking out a really fit girl, her saying yes, taking her to a really nice restaurant ... finding out she has a boyfriend.
2) Meant to go home and cook a lonely Mr dinner last year only to get pissed off my face with a boss I called the 'Poison Dwarf' and end up clubbing with my friend's boyfriend. I never found out whether she minded or not.

I honestly can't remember any others, i probably spent them drunk and moaning. Which is exactly what I plan on doing this year. Now you may think from the above that I do not like Valentine's Day. On the contrary, I love it. And, believe it or not, it's better if you're single.

This is how your day goes if you're in a relationship -

You get up, you know you have a card, you go to work, you may get flowers, you eat, you have sex. If you don't then you have a massive row and spend the night crying. If you're lucky someone will go all out and you get to spend the day looking incredibly smug and making the world feel jealous. This happens in 1 in 200 cases, so the chances are it's not gonna be you.

Now the Valentine's Day of a single person.

You get up, try and wait for the post but have to leave for work cos you're already late. You sit in work for a while hoping that you get a card from someone not in your immediate family. Start to think that maybe a bunch of flowers will come to your office or that person you've fancied for ages will ask you out or do some sweeping romantic gesture. Around 3pm you realise that none of your pathetic daydreams are going to come true. The jokes about having to fend off 10 trucks this morning are grating on you and you're looking forlornly at the crazy Eastern European Accountant and wondering if you have a chance.

So then you start the Facebook stalking of exes/ people you fancy/ people you used to fancy/ desparate search for someone you do fancy. Everyone is in a happy relationship but you. This gives you perfect excuse to start grumbling about why Valentine's Day is so shit. In reality you look around and no one in the office who is in a relationship has a desk full of flowers or diamonds hanging off every inch of skin. That's not the point, they could have but they just have lazy partners. You don't even have a partner who is lazy, so you can bitch all you want.

On the way home you grab a bottle of Tesco Value's finest Gin...as it's depression you plan on sinking into only Mother's Ruin will do. You walk in the door to find that not even an immediate relative has bothered to send you a card this year as even they think you're getting a bit old and desparate for this.

Thankfully, you have a handful of a friends in the same boat. You live with them. You're emotional defects are probably contagious and they are with you cos you have filled them with your 'unwanted' disease. So you spend the night getting hammered, reliving the glory years that absolutely never were, maybe crying a bit listening to Leann Rhymes. Around 3am you will probably finish off the night, in your underwear, standing on the table wailing along to a medley of Whitney's "Queen of the Night" and "I'm Every Woman".

The great thing is that this year Valentine's Day is on a Thursday, so when I call in sick to work on Friday with a screaming hangover my colleagues may be thinking the following things -

1) Miss obviously has some hot, secret life she hasn't told us about.
2) Miss is probably shagged out from all the shagging she shagged last night.
3) Miss may have been spirited away on a romantic break.
4) Miss probably didn't give a shit it was Valentine's Day and went out and had an orgy with the Victoria's Secret Models.

They definitely will not be thinking -

1) Miss is such a loser she can not make it through one Valentine's Day without falling to pieces, getting hammered, spouting a load of female cliches and is now lying in her stinking bed reading 'Bridget Jones' Diary'.

Working 9 to 5

2008-01-25T13:11:00.000-08:00

Hi, Mr here.

Well I am now employed. A little bit TOO employed if you ask me as it seems I am literally working every hour that God sends. This has left me totally unable to go shopping, see my friends or basically have enough energy to stay awake past 9pm. Thus I have still yet to venture to 'Tuesday's gay night'.

When the world turns it's back on you like this you...turn to the internet. So I did. You know, just to put the feelers out there and see what the gays outside of London are like.

I started with Facebook, browsing through the guys in my area, as usual immediately by-passing any that were:

1) semi or totally naked

2) posed or professionally taken

3) named something along the lines of ::hottttt guy 69 lol :)::

4) intimidatingly goodlooking

5) an absolute monster

This was then futher filtered down by eliminating any profiles that contained:

1) Comments along the lines of 'This is me, pissed as usual, what an alcoholic' beneath a photo of them holding a single blue WKD.

2) interests listed as 'hot guys', 'drinking' or 'the usual stuff lol'

3) a distinct lack of real-life friends in their photos

4) hints of desperation

5) ANY kind of text speak or use of LOL. It makes my eyes bleed.

I was left with about 4. Further scrutiny of these yielded:

A) Favourite films: 'Good stuff and by good stuff I mean Scary Movie, Jeepers Creepers 1 & 2 and Martin Lawrence anything with him in makes me piss' (I couldn't type this verbatim as it would be illegible)

B) Interests: 'Hot lads lol'

C) Interests : 'Chasing cocks'

So I was left with one but by this point I was so disheartened I wanted to put my fist through the computer. The guys in my area are all idiots, chavs and posers. I wouldn't want to go and meet any of them on 'Gay night Tuesday' even if I had the time to.

Instead I went to one of the few free dating websites to see what that has to offer. After a couple of days I had one guy emailing me...all the way from Ireland. He is now bothering me on a daily basis which makes me wonder If he is having to come as far afield as Ireland to (wherever it is I live) on the prowl, then maybe there are actually no guys ANYWHERE.

Maybe it really is a blessing I'll be leaving the country....

On My Own Pretending He's Beside Meeeeee

2008-01-23T05:08:00.000-08:00

So here is Miss

...young, free and single. Living in the city on my own without Mr. Ok i can't pretend to be quite as brave as him going it alone, as I am also with a lot of our friends, in the same house, hanging out with more than one person. But still...feeling the pride.

So since Mr deserted me (yes he deserted me, i refuse to look at it in any other way) I have had a job promotion and so, like any girl going through a break up, have been working late at the office, until I found that I have actually caught up with the insane backlog. Well kind of, there are still loads of boring bits but they are too boring to deal with at present so i'll pretend they don't exist. The point is, i can not spend my time in the office.

But, light was on the horizon - Our friend F moved down last weekend though and i have been busy mothering her and making myself feel needed and, perhaps some would say, smothering her. Sadly, she is actually doing a lot better than i thought she would in adjusting to London life and I know that I am not really needed, that i'm just being humoured.

So instead I resorted to my friend 'the Med', who i have taken to calling my surrogate girlfriend. We're friends who text a lot and go out for dinner every couple of weeks; she listens to me rant about how stressed I am and I listen to her trying to solve the constant enigma that is her girlfriend. But lately our texts have gotten a bit too familiar on both parts. I believe that my thought process was somewhere along the lines of this 'Hmmm i have lots of spare time, how can i fill it up?? Oooh i'll text the Med and make my life a bit complicated but without being serious.' However last night she called me up on it and decided that we had been acting inappropriately and it was getting a bit complicated. Not wanting to lose a friend and realising that lines have been stepped over I agreed that we should act strictly as chums in the future.

So I am now at a bit of a loss. I have no Mr to take up my spare time, F does not need me (I think she is ridiculously focused on finding a husband to be honest) and 'the Med' has called a hault to my random pretence of having a life.

Maybe I should take up a hobby...

Sweet Home Alabama

2008-01-09T01:23:00.000-08:00

Hi, Mr here. Sorry it has been such a long time but we've been busy with christmas festivities, office parties, family time etc etc. Not to mention me moving back 'up north'. That's right, me and Miss have (temporarily) gone our seperate ways.

Since not having lived, or really even visited my hometown for the best part of 6 years, I was intrigued to see what it would be like after the hectic lifestyle of the big-smoke. Well admittedly I have only been here a matter of days but, well, it's shit. I am unemployed, have no real bed to speak of and I am already missing Miss like crazy.

And don't get me started on what the Scot would refer to as 'Talent'.

Everything is a bit backwards here. To the native who has never left the place, of course this is unnoticeable. But after sampling the capital's 'cosmopolitan' lifestyle for a brief period, you realise just how shit and bland everything outside it is. Even this blog is severley lacking in it's usual punchy tone I've just noticed!

So, after resigning myself to the fact that I am going to have to try and survive the next year living in Royston Vasey I decided I am going to make the most of my time here. First things first, ralley the troops.

The went for a home-coming drink with the one school friend, C, I keep in constant contact with. Bit insane but nice enough non-the-less. When I broached the subject of me trying to find some nice gay gentleman in the area, she first of all informed me that a bar down the roasd 'does a gay night on Tuesdays'. She then, (having already taken the initiative) produced a list of guys phone numbers she had stolen from the books at work. When I asked why she thought I would like these particular ones her response was 'well, you're gay, they're gay.' Always a good starting point I suppose but the fact that she met them all as customers in her salon goes to show I've got a big job ahead of me if I'm going to teach C about my taste in men. And attitudes towards being gay. She then proceeded to spend a large portion of the night telling me how much she loved me because 'I'm a boy but I don't fancy you but you can still be, like, my surrogate boyfriend can't you? We do everything a normal boyfriend and girlfriend do, but without the sex.'

Ladies and gentleman, I have acquired my first proper fag-hag.

The fag-hag has always been something I have always managed to avoid (which is usually easy as you can spot them a mile off). Mainly because I don't like the idea of being fawned over and followed about by a girl who finds 'the gays' hilarous.

Still, it will be nice to have someone to go to Tuesday's 'gay night' with.

It'll be lonely this Christmas...

2007-11-20T11:50:00.000-08:00

Hi, Mr here.

Miss came up with a good point last Friday. That around this time of year people see all those happy couples buying presents for each other and realise how lonely they are. And when people get lonely they get desperate. And when people get desperate they lower their standards. And when people lower their standards, we swoop in.

With only 30 shopping days left before Christmas we decided now is the time to start a serious plan of action to bag ourselves a 'special someone' to spend the festive season with. It's also the ideal time of year to bag a boy/girl friend because come 3 months down the line Valentine's Day looms large and you pray that this'll be the year where you, for once, don't have to spend the day making tired jokes about 'a truck load of cards being outside the door' to mask your embarrassment. Or staying in and having a wank and drinking flat champagne left over from P's birthday like last year.

The plan of action: spend one night on the computer, grooming potential dates VS one night in reality, grooming potential dates. At the very least we hoped to get a cheeky snog.

So...first stop - Facebook. Cue 3 to 4 hours of poking randoms in the desperate hope that they would see our picture and think 'Oh thank Christ, this is the person I've been waiting for my whole life'. Mr made sure to change his photo to one where is not a) smoking, b) unconscious, c) in drag, d) on the toilet. Miss changed hers to old faithful - the one nice picture she has of herself.

Come 1am, with only a handful of poke-backs between us, we realised that what people would actually be thinking is "Look at those sad, posing fuckers, in on a Friday night, trying desperately to get someone to fancy them. What losers." (Miss has just noticed that the word 'desperate' has already been used quite a lot in this particular blog).

Saturday morning we did have some results, but in the cold light of day they weren't really as attractive as their teeny pictures suggested at 3am in our darkened living room. Miss had a drag queen from Sweden.

So, back to reality. As it happens it was our mate's birthday and she chose us to plan the fun and games for her special night. Her stipulations were 'Cheese is allowed but please for God's sake, can we go somewhere that's not gay. Seriously, it's my birthday.' So being the dutiful friends that we are, we showed up 90 minutes late with absolutely no plan. Well actually that's a lie. We wanted to go to Trash Palace and after we'd plied the birthday girl with enough booze and scared off most of her straight mates, she was in no position to protest.

Why Trash Palace? For the simple fact that it's full of sexually active band geeks, cheap booze, and after a week of having to suffer seeing the Scot walking around with his muscles out, flaunting his rapidly increasing wardrobe of designer gear, we wanted to feel like the belles of the ball.

We didn't.

On arrival, Miss clocked (and immediately claimed) the rather fit doorgirl only to quickly discover (through interrogating the barman) that she has a girlfriend. Fail.

She then got chatting to a less attractive girl in a trilby, only to be told she 'has a fit back, but looks like Liza Minnelli'. Fail.

She then lowered her standards even more and started chatting to a pair of REALLY ugly girls only for them to disappear when she turned her back. Fail.

Mr, on realising that there was absolutely nothing going for him that night, ventured off to the streets of Soho to find one little pill that might fill the emptiness inside. £10 and a trek around Walker's Court later, he had minty fresh breath and a feeling of being absolutely robbed. Fail.

In short, Miss went home with a kebab and Mr went home with a digested tic tac (or it could have been a smint).

FAIL.

Virtual Insanity

2007-11-15T13:51:00.000-08:00

Mr & Miss here,

sorry we've been missing so long, but our internet got disconnected because we didn't pay our bill for 5 months. So we thought we'd take advantage of the situation and interact with people in the real world instead of just poking random bodies on facebook hoping (please god) that they'd poke us back.

Well actually this is a lie. We didn't choose to take advantage...we were forced by our internet provider to find other, old fashioned forms of entertainment. And it must be said, it's been a pretty good week.

It all started last Tuesday when we arrived home to find a rather large bill demanding immediate payment. We, literally, spent the night sat around the dining room table panicking about what the hell we were going to do. We couldn't watch downloaded movies, we couldn't check facebook, we couldn't try and flirt with strangers who aren't interested, we couldn't stalk old flames and people we hate and we couldn't watch endless hours of hilarious animal clips on you tube (there are talking cats on there!). We eventually, in desparation, called P who 'apparently' has better things to do with his time rather than to help nerds like us.

So we thought, "fuck you P", we can have this thing called a 'life' too. The following night Mr and myself went down to the Southbank for a lovely dinner and stroll along the river. Ok, granted, we did spend most of the evening talking about what we would be doing if we had the internet but, baby steps baby steps.

Then the night after we found a new local pub and did a quiz. Managed to bag ourselves a free bottle of wine for our efforts.

Then on Friday, we went to Popstarz...which we have never been to before, even though we have lived in London for almost 5 years. The Scot pulled after 5 minutes, I spent the night stalking a fit girl but couldn't pluck up the courage to go and humiliate myself by talking to her, L spent most of the night smoking out the back and Mr accosted some poor girl and demanded that she be his new best friend. Maybe if we hadn't spent so much time on the internet we would actually be able to start conversations with types of humans that don't intimidate us.

With this in mind we headed back to our old university, back to a simpler time when you could while away a whole week getting drunk in a cheap pub and chatting to whatever person you liked. It mattered not whether their facebook profile had similar interests to yours. I even met up with a girl I have been chatting to on the internet...and found it was more fun talking to someone when you can hear their voice.

Within 5 days we had all noticed that without the internet we had had much more fun, done more interesting things and met new people. In the spirit of this new freedom from technology we decided to get rid of our tv license so we'd have even less distractions.

The internet came back on last night. We haven't been out since. The Scot went upstairs with his new webcam and is still yet to emerge and Mr and I have been behaving like 12 year olds by winding up people with fetishes in cyber sex chat rooms.

It's all very well being one of these people who 'put's themselves out there', but we're glad to be back amongst the hoardes of anonymous faces pretending they have a life. Is it a bit sad that when we were taking photos of our adventures during that week we kept saying - 'oooh that's one for facebook'?

It's My Party and I'll Cry if I Want To

2007-11-05T11:13:00.000-08:00

Mr and Miss here,

so the Scot has arrived. He is here. In the house. Poor bastard.

He moved in to find no light in his room, a chest of drawers falling apart and the living room had been taken oven by a pair of massive speakers and some decks. In true 'organised' fashion we had decided to throw a party on the night he moved down. I would like to say that the warm welcome we gave him more than made up for this, but as he came in Mr announced he was going shopping to find a wig for his drag outfit (it was a fancy dress party) and I lay on the sofa, taking up 60% of the collective seating area moaning about having a hangover for 3 hours. Until he left to go to GAY.

Parties are stressful. You spend a shit load of money to let people come and use your house as an ashtray and your garden as a urinal. Spend most of the week before thinking you should cancel it because no one is going to turn up and then moan when they do because you only wanted a handful of close friends there and can't be bothered to entertain randoms.

But i think everyone had a good time. Loads of lads dressed as buff heroes, girls in sexy outfits. Mr and myself got it completely wrong and went as hideous mutants. Surprisingly no one wanted to pull us. Next year we shall follow the 'Mean Girls' rule of dressing like sluts and getting away with it.

Notable highlights included Batman off his tits on acid spending the evening doing the washing up and another Batman walking about in a strap on. Mr walked in on the bird from Resident Evil going down on some random girl in my bed. And the Scot almost came home to find that a cheerleader had puked all over his bed and white curtains...thankfuly Mr is nippy with a wet rag.

In the end we locked ourselves in L's bedroom lamenting about the fact we are getting old, we don't like dance music, the neighbours were probably going to sue us and we just wanted to sing a bit of Disney karaoke. Wouldn't you love to come to one of our parties?

So the Scot was greeted home by a houseful of randoms, nobody knew he lived here bless him.

But we're pretty sure they will soon. He's very very chatty and nice. However it's becoming clearly apparent that he has much more money than us and we are not going to be able to compete with his lifestyle. He wears £400 jackets from Armani...we wear £4 cagouls from Primark.

And you know we said we wanted gay...well we got GAY. One friend of ours became increasingly suspicious that we're living in the Truman Show as all he had brought with him was an expensive wardrobe, Priscilla Queen of the Desert, Queer as Folk, lube, poppers and johnnies. It's as though we had requested a gay man and they had hurriedly had to buy him props to litter about the room to make it obvious his character is a homosexual.

We don't want to be too hard on him though as he is lovely and he can't do enough to make us feel like a little family. He is a few years younger than us (and we're not that old - well physically if not mentally) and he's like a kid in a fudge shop.

Oh fuck this - we're obviously just insanely jealous that he's younger, better looking, richer, with a better social life (he's only been here 48 hours and he has more friends) and happier than we are.

We'll soon change all that!

Social Experiments

2007-10-30T12:53:00.000-07:00

Miss here,

this weekend was all about social experiments. Well there was 2 of them.

Ever since G announced she was moving in with O we have been searching for a new housemate. Someone who is going to fit in with our love of pissed house karaoke and nudity. We started off in earnest, asking people many a question over the phone and arranging viewing times. By the end of the week the standards had slumped to a perfunctory 'What's your name? How old are you? What you do for a living? Yeah come over when you want.'

I would like to say the callibre of people we saw left us torn between which fabulous person should join us. But I can't. They were all men...it would seem that straight girls are rather scared of living with lesbians (can't think why, thought we had a great reputation) but straight men, generally, don't give a rats arse who you wanna shag.

Or maybe they do, but they're so desperate because nobody wants to live with them that they just pretend they don't. Anyway...we saw one really smug, bearded monster who we allowed in the house for a grand total of 6 minutes. One man who Mr thought had a tick and kept telling us about all the secret services he had served in around the world. He did offer to teach us how to use 'mild' weapons though which was nice of him. One 'city boy' - God knows why he showed up - who we have still yet to tell the bad news. Let him down gently. And one lad who seemed so nervous that he obviously couldn't wait to run out the door.

Finally we had a call from a Scot, who J was convinced was passive aggressive, but we were scraping the bottom of the barrel and the weapons tutor was winning so we thought 'oh fuck it why not'.

He is lovely. Cheeky little chimpy face. Mr is already in love with him and he is as gay as Mr Motivator. He shall now go by the imaginative name of Scot. He is moving in Saturday and we shall let you know how it goes.

The second social experiment was us having the amazing idea of not smoking for the night and seeing if not stinking of fags makes you more attractive when you're out.

I thought some girl was hitting on me...only to discover she had a rather possessive girlfriend. Mr, sadly, had worse luck than usual. Oh no wait! We did both get felt up at the bar. By 2 fat straight bitches from Essex who were on a 'be gay for the night' trip.

We decided to leave, only to find all the attractive people milling about outside smoking chatting to each other because they weren't drowned out by some god awful Euro Pop from Slovakia.

It's a shit word, but a great concept - Smirting.

Room with a view...of fag packets, beer cans and a paddling pool full of strange little maggots

2007-10-25T11:03:00.000-07:00

Evening, Mr and Miss here.

We have learnt a couple of important lessons over the last few weeks.

1) Don't ever live with a couple.

2) Generally don't do anybody any favours.

A few months ago we helped out our friend G by allowing her to crash on our sofa, completely free of charge, while she settled into London. She had had a run of very bad luck over the past few years so we decided to help here get back on her feet.

Things started off great, we helped her get a job, she was coming out (not like that) and we seemed to be one happy family so when P moved out, we gave her his room (the best in the house we might add).

However about 3 weeks in she shagged our other friend O and within 6 days they had completed the steps to married life. A process which takes normal people about 3 years. Or about never in our case. She rapidly dumped her friends, barricaded herself in her room and became all...whispery.

Last Thursday we received some news (by text) informing us that G was moving in with O. When we returned home on Friday she had managed to clean out her room. Do you remember that episode of Sex and the City where Carrie gets dumped on a post-it note? Well there wasn't even a post-it note.

In a week we have received, by way of apology, one defensively short email. Moral of the tale? There are some friends who will always put a partner before anything else. Recognise them quickly and don't do them any favours.

So with an empty room for the taking and rent day looming ever closer, we need to find a new housemate. Or more realistically some god awful freak who nobody else wants to live with, whom we pray will stay in their room, out of our sight.

In keeping with our quest to become more liberal, we have decided on the pre-requisite that said housemate must be gay. But not too gay. Baby steps.

Get Fresh for the Weekend

2007-10-20T16:12:00.000-07:00

Miss here. How do?

Well it's a Saturday night and I have just, literally, come home and I am typing this in my underwear. Already I have had to delete about 8 words due to spelling mistakes and I am going to get Mr to read through this after.

I love rugby. I do. I am a celt and i am born to do be patriotic whether I like it or not. So tonight was the rugby World Cup Final.

Obviously I supported South Africa (you can curse me as much as you want but you know every Irish, Welsh and Scottish person was doing the same) so I went to cheer the buggers on.

Now, I am pretty sure that somewhere in Soho would have been showing the game where I could have chatted to girls about the skill and to the boys about the legs...yes I am stereotyping. But somehow I ended up in a tiny pub sat next to a racist football fan and chatting up a man.

I even gave him my phone number and invited him to our house party. There is something predominantly wrong with my genes.

Why can I flirt very easily with men but not at all with women??? Seriously, I could get a boyfriend so easily but I can not chat up women to save my own life. Maybe I have the mental capacity of a 15 year old. Who knows?

I do know my spelling is rather great right now though. Every cloud has a silver lining and all that jazz.

London to Brighton

2007-10-19T12:16:00.000-07:00

Hello, Mr Here.

Miss and I have returned to the big smoke following our 'adventure' in the gay capital of England. There was much debate beforehand as to what can be classified as the 'gay capital' - London, Manchester or Brighton. This was mainly due to Miss, having been there for almost 3 minutes, not having spotted one overtly gay person. However as we were there at the time we decided on Brighton.

We won't bore you with what we did in the day time as this involves watching animal clips (the best kind) on 'You've Been Framed' and seeing England beat France in the rugby (a sore point for Miss who is a celt).

Then it was on to Brighton's premiere nightclub Revenge.

Some things you should know about gay clubs outside of London.

1. The clientelle are much less attractive. This results in there being less opportunity to pull someone who isn't a monster...or someone who is far out of our league and too pissed to know better. It does however have the added bonus of making us feel more attractive and superior. In a club inhabited by men dressed as Fred Kruegar, fat girls with poppers stored between their even fatter tits and a midget Angelina Jolie look-a-like, we were the shit. Not to blow our own trumpet but one girl actually stopped us to take a photo simply because '[you] are the most beautiful people here'. This almost never, ney NEVER happens back home. And just for the record we're not biased because we are not native Londoners.

2. The music is a lot less pretentious. You can feel free to dance around like a complete twat without fear of being scrutinised by some poncey gay in skinny black jeans and one of those Yasser Arafat neck-scarfs. Plus you know all the words so you can have a good sing rather than mumbling along to some cheesy lounge shite because everyone else knows the words and you don't.

3. The choice of narcotics on offer extended to said bottle of poppers between fat girl's tits. One whiff and the gays were seen to flock to her mammaries like a gaggle of honking geese. (Miss would like to point out that Mr was the alpha goose).

4. Drinks were an absolute steal.

5. People still think it's more than appropriate to give hickies after the age of 12. Mr learnt this to his detriment and is still ashamedly sporting a range of polo necks to the office.

6. They are rather nice beaches a stone's throw from the clubs' doorsteps.

Leading on from points 5 and 6 takes us to Mr's adventure for the rest of the night...

Seeing it only right that I pull when in the gay capital of England our friend LG chivalrously intervened as I am pathetic at pulling for myself and still play by the playground rules of 'my mate fancies your mate etc'.

Enter The Giant.

He seemed nice enough. Rather posh, nice hair. Oh and he did seem to be a smoker which always gets me excited. That's about all I can remember, I would tell you more but Miss and LG promptly did one and left me on my own.

Somewhere between them leaving and me finding them again I acquired 3 dark and painful lovebites. I do remember pointing out to him that this was 'quite irritating actually' as I would have to attempt to cover them up for the next week. I am so cool.

I finally made my excuses (I got up and walked off in silence) and ran to find Miss only to announce I needed to throw up. So we quickly gathered our things, ran out to the pier, where I proceeded to expel the total price of £7.20 worth of Red Stripe and tequila.

Somehow, god knows how, LG had gotten hold of The Giant's number and had heard on the rumour mill that he had procured some beers and was down on the beach. The next logical step was for us to join him there and steal as much said booze as possible.

Miss had had enough and stumbled off to get chips. When she returned she found us 'engrossed' in conversation with The Giant's older lesbian (!) sister and her 'girl'friend who introduced herself as 'too lazy to pronounce my own name so call me H'.

Lesson learnt - if you're not willing to let someone rape your neck do not expect to be able to rape their booze supply.

Allow us to introduce ourselves

2007-10-12T15:53:00.000-07:00

Welcome to the lives of the worst gay man and worst lesbian woman in London. Introducing Mr and Miss.

Two best friends, having lived in London for the past 2 years, and inhabiting Soho for the majority of that time (as well as numerous internet social networks). You would think one of us would have managed to establish a meaningful relationship. Or, failing that, normal casual sex.

But no...

We can't.

Now don't get us wrong. On our day we ar not unattractive people. Fair enough we may not make an effort on a daily basis but when push comes to shove (into the shower) we do scrub up rather well. Nor are we afflicted with the personalities of wet mops. Many people have been known to comment on our outgoing social behaviour and we are, generally, pleased with our ability to create humour. In fact, many people have frequently commented that they wonder why we are still single.

So do we.

There could be numerous reasons for this.

1) We're too outgoing.
2) We spend too much time with our incestuous group of friends.
3) We appear to be in some form of unhealthy relationship with each other.
4) We are really fucking picky.

We probably should have started this earlier - but to recap, here are some examples of things that have gone awry since our time here.

* Miss manages to get a date with a model (after her straight friend- L - pulled her) only to somehow turn her straight for a year and make her run off to LA.
* Mr, in failing to procure the man that he wants, instead indulges in random foreplay with his psycho boyfriend. Said psycho boyfriend (who looked like Bradley Walsh) ends up punching our good friend in the face and pissing on her whilst she's vsiting. She hasn't been back since.
* Miss falls for another ridiculously good looking girl, who fails to mention she has a girlfriend and Miss spends a good year of her life trying to convince said girl to go out with her. She doesn't.
* Mr, in trying to get over a horrific break up manages to sleep with a man with no stomach. You may think this is medically impossible - but you are wrong.
* Miss dates a girl who makes her feel like a paedophile.
* Mr dates a boy that makes him feel like a paedophile.
* Miss gets an opportunity to sleep with aforementioned straight model and doesn't because of the paedophile girl.
* Mr sleeps with a boy that looks like the crazy frog whilst at a reality TV show audition. Neither of them gets the part.
* Miss spends many nights out trying to pull her friend of 13 years, who is too drunk to thankfully remember.
* Mr dates an apparently nice man who turns out to have a distinct hatred of homosexuals and spills class D drugs on him before ordering him into a shower...alone.
* Miss resorts to inappropriately touching up her friends for physical closeness.
* Mr arranges a date via the internet with an old school friend (far out of his league) and realising this practically rapes him.
* Both Mr and Miss try to break up happy relationships and fail abysmally...we are nice people though. Just lonely people.

However, there has been a shift lately. Mr has decided to strike out on his own and explore the world. Miss hasn't realised there's a world outside London and Greece yet.

So, as a way to maintain our adventures, and a sort of social experiment, we have decided to keep a record of our time apart and see whether we can finally form a fully functional relationship. Miss believes that Mr will finally see she has been a complete hinderance to his love life for the past 4 years and Mr believes that a month on his own will render him to come crawling back.

But we are not alone in our adventures. Below are a cast of close characters that help us on our journey. As a brief outline let us inform you that we all met, one way another, through university 4-5 years ago.

L - housemate. Asexual. Female.
J - twin of housemate. Bisexual. Female.
Z - on/ off girlfriend of J and best friend of L. Female. Doesn't know what she is.
P - ex housemate. Straight. Male.
G - new housemate. Straight. Female.
O - housemate of J. Boyfirned of G. Straight. Male.
F - soon to be housemate. Straight (apart from one fateful night). Female. Gimp.

So we begin our blog on the weekend that we decide to travel to the mecca of Gay Britain...Brighton. Our quest revolves around our hope that we can become more tolerant and pull as many different varieties (or even one nice one) of homosexuals as possible. Actually to pull anyone that we remotely fancy may actually break the curse and send the earth spinning towards the sun. Who knows???

Wish us luck.