Well that's a first.
I think I've bust something in my ass.
After a particularly strenous exertion on the toilet last night it now feels like I've got a poo permanently half-hanging out.
What the hell have I done? Will it repair itself?
Please don't let me have to bend over and show a doctor me rusty starfish! Nooooo…
I tried to be the prodigal son yesterday and deliver a beautiful little potted Begonia to my mum.
Unfortunately, I put it on the passenger seat next to me in the car. Every time I turned a sharp corner, the plant fell over and a flower dropped off. By the time I arrived at mum and dad's house, all that was left was some twigs and a cheap-looking plastic tub.
Bottled it and bought a massive bouquet of flowers from the BP garage instead.
So much for individuality.
Wake up with a grim head having drank too much wine last night with new Aussie housemate Kate who I secretly fancy. It’s forbidden love as she’s attached and hey I reckon I probably only want her because I can’t have her. Story of my life:
1. Lust after unobtainable thing.
2. Obtain thing, wrecking friendships/relationships by doing so.
3. Discover thing wasn’t as good as I thought; ditch thing.
4. Repeat.
She’s dating a guy called Eric – I haven’t met him yet, but I’m sure things will all seem a bit less weird once he’s stayed over a few times. Nothing like bumping into a guy in their pants at 3am outside the bathroom to really cement in a deep loathing. At the moment it feels like I’m dating his girlfriend behind his back – Kate moved in last week, we both went out for a drink, got on like a house on fire, flirted endlessly, got drunk, did the same again last night. She sends me emails and texts, always very interested in my life and what I’m doing.
Honestly, both cuddled up on the sofa together last night drinking wine, it was so easy to talk to her about absolutely everything. It’s that “housemates” trap isn’t it where etiquette (supposedly) rules out any chance of a relationship between you so you immediately assume the role of “best mates” instead and drop your guard. It felt a bit like a date, we were talking about everything, even the most hideously personal stuff. Then, every now and then, one of us would crow-bar a current love interest into conversation (in her case, her boyfriend, in my case Carmen) just to re-assert the whole “this isn’t a date” thing. I hated those bits. When she went off to bed she ruffled my hair! She ruffled my hair! Almost like she didnt quite know what to do but felt that some form of physical contact was necessary!
Anyway, what am I stressing about? If I could have Kate we’ve already established above that I wouldn’t want her, so best forget that one, eh. Plus, I’ve always said I’d never snog a housemate and one of my friends proved that very point by doing so, after which they dated for a year and it all ended horribly when they split up and she had to move out. (Hilariously she moved next door and he went almost crazy postulating on what might or might not be going on in her bed the other side of the party wall, but that’s another story) So, it’s not something I’d do.
Who the fuck am I kidding, I know damn well if I got drunk enough and the circumstances were right I would almost certainly snog my housemate.
How pathetic I feel to have such an easily compromised set of principles.
How doubly pathetic I feel to have identified such key personality flaws in myself yet leave them in place.
All very different to my other, currently fucked up relationship with ADHD-Carmen. Which is another story entirely.
Hey, things could be worse. I could be a blind person forced to take driving theory lessons.
I hate the idea of writing a blog.
Why would any sane person want to clog the arteries of the Internet with their hideous overblown guff? It's the digital equivalent of boarding public transport, sitting on a random stranger's lap, taping a megaphone to his head and then reading him your shopping list.
Nobody gives a toss. Nobody wants to hear it. Your thoughts, opinions and ideas are completely insignificant except to a very small selection of well-meaning friends and family who nod placatingly yet make a mental note to screen their calls more carefully in future.
So, this is my blog. For me. I'm not going to tell anybody about it, I don't want anybody else to read it and I'm certainly never going to reveal my name or any pertinent personal information and would ask you not to attempt to find out.
So why am I writing it? Well, partially because I'm a total hypocrite. But mainly because.. …do you know i'm not really sure. I think it's a kind of writing exercise. Perhaps I'll consider that one more fully at some point.
The Rules of My Blog
1. It Is Not For My Friends
1a. My blog is not designed to be read by anyone that knows me.
1b. So why am I writing a blog? I don't know, why are you reading it?
2. Comments
2a. You may, if you must, leave a comment.
2b. I will read all comments but never, ever, will I respond to them.
3. Personal Life
3a. I really, genuinely, don't want you to know who I am or try to contact me.
So please don't.
Thanks! Have a super weekend. No, really.
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