Pity The Fool

I am completely, utterly lovesick.

I can't stop thinking about her, I pace about, my hands are fidgety, I have an ache in the pit of my stomach, I feel totally elated one moment then utterly despairing the next. It's proper textbook stuff.

And, as usual, it's with somebody I can't have.

She's called Hannah, she's an actress and is touring around France with my housemate and other actors for a few weeks. I've just been out to stay with the six of them in a country house. She is just the most incredible person I've met in a long time. Really attractive in a very sultry way. Long blonde hair, high cheekbones, sexy big lips, a lovely petite frame with a gorgeous pair of boobs! She lights up a room with her bubbly personality, boundless energy and infectious laughter.

The six of us spent three days touring around French towns and beaches. I got on with Hannah instantly – I loved the way I could make her laugh so easily, I craved her company and, of course, fancied her rotten. Did she like me back? Well there were some signs (lots of eye contact, brushing of arms and a tender hug on a cold crazy-golf course!) But I wasn't the only one getting the attention; she's a big flirt which makes her a dangerous person to get attracted to.

The Small Problem
Hannah has a bloke. I got the impression she's not keen though. Just as well, he's some prick that lives on a narrow-boat apparently. Make that a lucky prick.

The Big Problem
I think my housemate might feel the same about her! They've been touring together for six weeks, perhaps they've just become close friends, but maybe more. He isn't single, but it's no big secret that's about to change, so who knows… I was absolutely gutted last night when Hannah got drunk and made a comment about how cute Pete's face was, then looked all guilty and said she shouldn't have said it.

The Real Reason
So, once again, for the third time in, like, 3 months, I find myself saying "Wooo! I've found the one!"  This is becoming a nasty habit.  It's a fucking rose-tinted infatuation. I always get like this when I meet somebody vaguely compatible.  Exactly the same thing happened on holiday with N – I thought I'd met my dream woman, I built it all up, it came tumbling down. Why do I keep doing this?!

I'm back from France now. The only way to really ever see Hannah again would be to make contact through my housemate – I'd love to be honest with him about my feelings but how can I do that if he likes her too?! It would put us both in a weird situation. Dammit, what a pickle.. Perhaps I should make my move whilst he's still officially in a relationship!!

I've never been one to make life easy for myself…

The Email I Never Sent

I got a really nasty email off Carmen today, berating me for not being in touch since I dumped her and then drunkenly texting her last week. Now, bear in mind that I only saw this girl about four times, over two weeks. She went on to say that I'd made her feel like a "social pariah"…"examining herself for defects and social flaws".

What the fuck?! Surely sometimes it's just better to both accept that the chemistry wasn't there. I mean, what the hell does she want – a bullet-pointed list of the things I didn't like about her?…

Dear Carmen,

Okay, I tried to do the polite thing and told you it "wasnt working for me" but you demanded to know why. So, here are the exact reasons why I don't want to go out with you any more:

1. You have a totally different sense of humour to me, I find it really immature. That awful time when you showed me those weird clothing websites that you piss yourself laughing about and I want to burn down.

2. You are mysteriously quiet in bed when I touch you, which is deeply un-sexy and makes me feel really shit as though I can't please you. As a 28 year old bloke I can assure you this is a bit unusual – could you at least moan, or sigh or something when something happens that feels good? Or perhaps it never did with me. Either way, that's not good for both of us.

3. You have a quirky way of speaking where you drop in your own made-up words like 'yoink' and 'alcomohol'. This was initially a bit endearing but quickly became really childish and a teensy bit odd. The whole thing felt like a game which would be fun to play from time-to-time but was bloody horrible to be trapped in.

Look forward to hearing from you!

D

Break out the Champers

My arse is fixed!

Hooray!  Hooray!  My arse is fixed. 

Looking myself in the eye

I had one of those moments today that you swear will never, on pain of death, be told to another living soul.

My ass is still curiously sore, there's a painful lump next to the 'out-pipe' so after doing the bloke thing for days and ignoring it I decided I'd best take a look. But how does one look closely at one's own anus? Biologically, it's not really sited at a convenient vantage point. I've been quite pleased about that until now – I'd much prefer that nature kept my face and ass as far apart as possible. After a surreal bout of of 'dog-chasing-tail' attempts to get a gander at the old fella, I remembered something from school about female self-examinations.

So, five minutes later, there I was, in my bedroom, trousers round my ankles, squatting over a large mirror and staring at my arsehole. Such an event should only occur once in a man's life, if at all. There's nothing quite like a good long look at your own back passage to destroy any delusions of grandeur.  Let me tell you guys – it's a fucking mess down there.  Hairs, holes, crevices, brown bits, lumpy bits, pink bits. It really wasn't designed for public exhibition.

Anyway, case closed, matter resolved, end of story. There does seem to be some sort of lump, but I'm hoping it's just a cut or something that'll go away in a few days. Otherwise, guess it's time to start the search for a doctor who can promise me, hand-on-heart, he will never.. ever.. drink in the same pub as me.

Leper Day

I feel like the world's most pathetic singleton.

Not only am I devoid of job, money, motivation or girlfriend, in the ultimate "kick me while I'm down" scenario, I have just been blown out by a girl who's a crap kisser and has wonky teeth.

After a disastrous series of dating encounters (girl with ADHD and bizarre asexual bedroom attitude, girl with boobs that made me feel sick, girl with head shoved up her posh ass, very lovely geordie girl that just wasnt very interesting) I decided that perhaps I was going about all this the wrong way. What about Bernie, my ex-housemates' new arrival? We'd already snogged a few months back, she's a nice girl, intelligent, funny, pretty. OK, she wasn't the best kisser, but we can arrange a re-training camp, right?

Bernie's only real downside is that she has crossed teeth. Lord knows why her folks didnt slap a brace on her as soon as those incisors began to kiss ten years ago. The first time I met her they shone out like a big entagled calcium piece of twisted modern art. But once I got to know her, strangely enough, I didn't really notice them any more. She really does have a beautiful face. No tits, but then that's never really been a deal-clincher for me. Quite into the whole 'small and perky' thing.

So, after dating this other guy (who's apparently a total prick) she's now single again, and has always been very tactile with me ever since our encounter. We get on, she laughs at my jokes, touches my arm.. ..basically, the signs have all been looking good. I even checked with KD her housemate who reckoned that she likes me.

So, after weeks of titting about, being unsure whether she was right for me and both of us generally skirting around the issue, I finally bit the bullet yesterday and emailed her saying 'ok, throw me a bone here, are you / aren't you interested in going for a drink together'…

…and she blew me out! The bitch! I can't believe it! I got this email back saying all the usual "wow, i'm very flattered.. yada yada not really looking for anything at the moment yada yada blah blah ' FUCK OFF! I don't believe it! There I was, wondering whether I was making a big mistake going for it, and she blows me out! For fuck's sake, now I feel like the ultimate leper. I can't even get a buck-toothed flat-chested washing-machine-tongue woman to date me.

That was cruel. But then I'm feeling a lot of anger right now.

Poo

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…

Mothers Day Disaster

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. 

My First Pointless fact-fling into the Abyss

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.

Why Am I Doing This

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.