No Promises

People ask me why I smoke.

Well, I picked up smoking because I was betrayed. Up until the age of 18, I had no idea what it meant to have your trust broken and your belief in another human shattered. Sure, I had faced disappointments before but losing out in a track and field meet or finding out that your Dad’s sister hated your guts for no apparent reason was not quite the same as being betrayed for the first time.

I had just returned from holiday in Europe after about a month. My then boyfriend had gone on holiday prior to my departure. He returned home after I had left my hols so altogether, we hadn’t seen each other for close to two months. Ten years ago, at 18, we couldn’t afford cellphones. Pagers were the in-thing at the time and neither of us had the luxury of having a laptop with remote access to the Internet to email each other either. If memory serves correct, I was still using a 56kbps dial-up at home on my first desktop. Either way, over those 2 months, contact and conversations between us were very few and far between.

When I returned home after my holiday, I shortly found out that the then boyfriend had cheated on me during my absence. Worst of all, I knew the girl too. We were mutual friends and all studying in the same faculty. My heart broke. My trust for him and our relationship no longer existed and for the first time in my life, I understood the meaning of the word betrayal. If you ask me why it was such a big deal well, quite simply, he was the first guy I ever fell in love with. I knew not of such emotion, feeling or happiness until we got together and he took all of that away with one impulsive decision.

The next few weeks following the revelation were intense. I didn’t eat. I subsisted on Vitasoy (for my foreign readers, Vitasoy is a soya bean based drink) and nothing much else. Then one day, for some reason I felt compelled to do something damaging. So I went to the nearest store, bought my first pack of cigarettes, a lighter and went down the street, lighting my very first cigarette, taking my first few drags, thinking that I would never trust another human with my heart ever again.

That tumultuous relationship lasted a lot longer afterwards. Over the course of 3 years, he cheated on me a total of 3 times, with 3 different girls. Yes, I was stupid, naïve and most tellingly, desperate enough to stick with him throughout all of that. Like they say, third time lucky eh?

Ten years on, I still smoke. I’m not a hardcore smoker by a mile but I haven’t made a conscious effort to try and quit either. Though I have forgiven my then boyfriend for whatever has happened in the past, my cigarettes remind me of how easy it is to have your emotions trampled on and flung out the window like confetti. Even when I was with D - probably the only other man whom I have ever had any real feelings for - I never felt any compulsion to give up smoking. Somehow, over the years, with my constantly growing and renewed cynicism, perhaps the only thing that has remained constant is the fact that I have no qualms about reaching for my cigarettes and lighting up.

I am in no way an advocate of the habit and I just want to make it clear that my decision to not kick the habit is purely a personal one. I can go without cigarettes for days but I have come to realise that my desire to step out and light up is usually fuelled by some sort of emotional or mental distress – work, friends, family, personal life etc. And because until today, I cannot forget the feeling of betrayal.

And that is why I smoke.

P.S. On the subject of D, I went home last night to discover that he had sent over an entire box of my personal belongings that I had left behind in his apartment, many, many, many months (we’re talking a year +++ here), ago when we split up. Frankly I had given up all hope on ever seeing those things again. Anyway, they have been returned after all this time, and I do not know the motivation behind the action because we are not on speaking terms. I am inclined to think that perhaps he has a new partner that he has asked to move in with him, or maybe he’s just finally decided to move on. Whatever the case, I hope he is well and I wish him nothing but joy and happiness in the future.

You're right.... but just not right now.

I'll never complain about being single.

You can attribute that attitude to my last serious relationship because ever since I got out of it, I feel like some sort freed blue bird who's high on smack, flying around doing any damn thing I please, whenever, wherever, however I like. Truth be told, there's a certain magic to be able to live your life whichever way you deem fit. The rebel in me thrives at not having to answer for my actions, not having to 'report strength' to anyone and being held responsible for whatever I do...well, because nobody else can be held responsible for my actions.

But therein lies a problem. I know I am not getting any younger. I am creeping up to my 29th birthday. Most people my age are either married, going to get married or already married with a house and a kid. Me? Well, all I have right now is a job and half a dog to be responsible for. Despite my carefree ways, I do get the occasional bout of niggling worry that I've somehow missed the boat. Now, I usually banish that train of thought with a vehement "Get ye behind me Satan" command and go on my merry way but I suppose it would do me good to pause and think about this for a while. So why not think about it today eh?

It's been more than a year now and though I have dated other people in between, I can't say any of those little dalliances meant much to begin with. It's been 6 months, well going 7 now, since I dated anyone proper and I can quite frankly tell you that I am not bothered about the 'single, not looking, can't be arsed' status quo. The irony is that, I do have options. There are guys who are clearly interested. And as far as I can tell, there's at least one who is decent, kind, and not a total shithead. In simple terms, he'd make a good boyfriend. BUT... yes, there has to be a resounding 'but' here... I don't feel inclined to pursue it. I just don't. There is nothing fundamentally wrong with the guy. He's smart. He has a freaking PhD for crying out loud. He's not bad looking, far from it in fact. Considering that his parents are dentists, he even has nice teeth. :D He has a job and he's working at making a name for himself. He talks to me regularly and treats me with respect and doesn't demand time or attention from me so all in all, he's got a lot of things going for him. So I suppose I should ask myself the question, "Christ alive woman, what the fuck is wrong with you and why are you waiting?"

Fantastic question. Stellar question. Million-fucking-dollar question. A question that I have asked myself a lot lately. A question that deserves a properly thought-out answer. A question that I can't really answer, to be honest.

The truth is, I don't know why I am holding back. My friends who are in the know of this said person and my lack of reciprocation have also asked me the same question. They've just stopped short of grabbing me by the shoulders and shaking sense into me. But I don't have a clear-cut answer. I like this guy in question. I could see us together but at the same time, I just don't feel like going that far. I don't want to put the both of us in a 'relationship' situation. Part of me is afraid of losing a friend. My friends in the know have told me that this is an unwarranted concern. In fact, the exact statement was, "You have enough close friends to take you through this lifetime. You should just go for it." Mind you, this was said in a bar in Hanoi when we had each consumed at least 5 beers each but it was all shared with feeling and sincerity, hence I have no reason to doubt the intentions behind the sentiment.

Still, I don't want to go after this opportunity even though I have no doubt that it would be a decent run. A large part of me feels like I am just not ready to commit to anyone. Another part of me lives in some inane fairytale land that says that getting together should not take so long. Forgive me for saying this but I think every girl wants to be swept off her feet. The fact that I have known this guy for an extended period of time and that we've ended up good friends, makes me think there's no magic between us. Okay, I suppose that's a load of bat wank considering how I ended up with the last 3 guys but still, I am female and I still want my fairytale start and ending. Halt! Before you judge, the realist in me is far too loud and proud to subscribe to that theory in full. I know that a lot of people end up together after being friends for years. I am, admittedly, a walking bag of contradictions. I am just being an indecisive piece of shite when it comes to this particular situation.

Believe me, this is something I am wrangling with quite seriously. I am sitting here with a list of reasons as to why I should give this feller half a chance. And to counter that list I have a list of reasons as to why I should just say "Oh hell, let's just see where the hell this goes", and the latter list is winning by a mile. Yet I want to keep my options open. Not that any of the other options can offer me much more. After all, most of the men I meet are either weird, priapic, insane or just have one goal - to see me in a state of total undress (nothing great to look at either).

So I don't know what to do and there's a chance that I could see a really fantastic feller ending up with some trollop that will piss me off to no end but I can't blame him for not wanting to wait around for an indecisive monkey like moi. I guess it will be a risk I will have to take but then again, time will tell I suppose.

In any case, I wrote this entire post with one song on repeat. I don't know what about it that makes me want to listen to it over and over again. Perhaps it's the harps, Florence's voice or maybe it's just an awesome tune. Either way, have a listen if you will.

I'll Like to Teach the World to Shut Up

I'm sorry if you happen to be a Carpenter's fan and you're mortified that I stole that line and killed it so that I could use it as title.

It's amazing how people seem to think that it's okay to piss people off to a degree where they stop talking to each other for an extended period of time, only to have that person re-appear many months later like a jack-in-the-box acting like nothing ever happened.

H and I had a major fall-out last July. It had something to do with him being madly in love with me and me not feeling the same way and me sorting out issues with D, which eventually led to D and I splitting up and then me dating someone new afterwards.

Now what really got my goat was that H and I were never dating at any given point. We'd known each other for a long time and many, many, many years ago, we did have a thing that lasted for a while. It was a long-distance issue and it eventually ran its course with both us ending up with different people. Throughout all of the lapsed time, H and I remained in contact, discussed each other's respective partners, and basically were good friends. Now I don't know what got into that man but towards the end of my relationship with D, he decided to come out to Asia to travel and stopped over in SG to catch up with me. I had drawn my lines in the sand and made it very clear that there should not be anything between us. Let's face it, I had grown up a lot. I knew how different I was from what I used to be 6 odd years ago and over the years I had also come to the conclusion that H was too much of a drama queen, too much of a needy character and too much of a self-centered muppet for me to even consider rekindling anything with.

Unfortunately all my well-laid plans were pointless because he behaved like a lovesick puppy dog throughout his time here. Part of me was happy to see a friend because I was going through shit trying to end a 4-year relationship without breaking the other person. The other part of me wanted to strangle H for all the cling-on activity he was demanding. Eventually he went home and then read my blog and went completely ballistic without due reason.

He accused me of stringing him along, saying that I played him whilst I was juggling D and Spooner.

Reality check. D and I were splitting up. Spooner did not come into the picture until several weeks later. To be fair, I wasn't juggling anyone. The only juggling that was going on was the me trying to sort the mess in my head without going bananas.

In short, after the first barrage of accusations from H, I got totally ticked off and fired back at him. This exchange went on for a while, and then there was silence and then, *GASP*, he deleted me off Facebook. :P

Now if you think I am one of those people who gives a flying fuck about the number of friends I have on FB, then you got it all wrong. I don't give a shit. I very rarely go in search of people to add and usually don't add people unless I get an invite from them first. I hate imposing myself on people and somehow asking someone to be a friend on Facebook sometimes feels like an imposition. Bite me.

The irony is that H, for all his puffed up anger and rage against my supposed infidelity, merely deleted me and didn't block me. One would have thought that if you were THAT pissed off at someone, you'd never want to have anything to do with them ever again. Like my dear AJ, who after 3 months of silence decides to block me on Facebook. No worries considering I deleted him immediately after we split up. Again, bite me.

So H doesn't block me but chooses to keep some sort of communication channel open. In the last 12 months, he has sent me odd messages, most of which have ended in an argument of some description or another because it usually starts with either an accusation or some weird statement that sets me off like a hand grenade. I had washed my hands off that friendship permanently and was quite happy living my life whichever way I saw fit up until recently, when he decides to send me another message telling me that he will be in Bangkok during a certain period and whether I would be up to flying up there to hang out with him.

Are you fucking kidding me???

The short answer to that question was a no. The long answer to that is that H is bloody insane because apart from the weird Facebook contact (we're not friends by the way, just using the message medium), he sent me a couple of texts over the weekend that left me wanting to refer him to the nearest psychiatrist.



Seriously. Do you really think after 1 year of not talking to you, wiping you out of my consciousness, and basically forgetting that you exist, I'd suddenly want to fly 2.5 hours out of my country and hang out with you over a weekend?! Are you, or are you, bloody crazy?!



Put it this way mister. You weren't the only one who got hurt by all the ballast. I'm sorry, but there's no way in hell everything can go back to being the way it was. It's never going to. I'm not holding a grudge. I'm merely stating that I don't have enough kindness nor patience in me to try and make this all better. I will be polite,and I will be civil but you put me in a position where I had to shut the doors after being massively disappointed with your behaviour. I have every right to be angry and you may think that I'm taking a moral high ground here but I did everything within my power to explain myself above and beyond what was required in the hope that you'd understand. You failed spectacularly on that front. It was all about you, you, and your bloody feelings. Never did you once stop for a minute to ask yourself how I felt about everything. Never did you once stop to ask if I was okay. Never did you stop to think that maybe, just maybe, at that point, I needed a friend more than someone who was hell-bent on berating me for wrongs that were not even my fault. Well guess what. I've had enough. In fact, I've had enough for a while now, so I suggest you just shut up and leave me alone.

Because I deserve so much better.

How NOT to Compliment a Woman

The following series of messages are all entirely true. You're entitled to laugh. :)



That's because you weren't checking out my chin?



Yankeedoodle had a farm...



Oh my God!



See, see, this is why you should never assume that you know everything.



I'm gonna replace Snookie in Jersey Shore.



Have you ever met a complete TOOL? ;)

Happy weekend folks.

Hairdryer Collection

I have this theory that there are a bunch of single men all around the world who collect hairdryers. No, they don’t it as a sort of hobby (or maybe they do), by going around and buying every single model that ever existed in the market starting from the first one invented by Alexandre Godefoy in 1890. Now what is really traumatizing is that the first actual hairdryer was... believe it or not, a bloody vacuum cleaner. For some reason known only to all the mad women from long ago, they dried their hair by connecting a hose to the exhaust of their vacuum cleaners. Apparently early models of the electrical ‘suck machine’ were designed to suck air in through the front and blow air out through the back. Moreover the hose could be attached to either end.



My theory requires a bit more complexity that just having men running out to buy the latest Phillips 50,000 volt dryer to add to their glass cabinets. Over the last 18 months I have managed to unwittingly donate not 1 but 3, yes THREE, hairdryers to the men I have dated. The first one is with D. Okay granted, I called the split after 4 years of togetherness and all other manner of relationship nonsense and he never returned any of my things, including my favourite Sunday dress and my weekend Louis Vuitton purse. Meh. The hairdryer that was sacrificed to him was one I purchased from Takashimaya because I had shopping vouchers and didn’t know what else to buy. In the interest of protecting my mane (have you seen the length of my hair?), I decided to buy a hairdryer. In fact I bought two. One for my own place and the other to be kept at D’s apartment because I spent a considerable amount of time there. Really, I was like some orphan shuttling up and down between my flat and his every week. Either way, it had got to a point where I was sick and tired of using the small little dryer that his previous ex had left behind and decided to grab the hair by the horns and buy a hairdryer (2,000 volts me thinks), that allowed me to dry my hair in 15 minutes as opposed to the usual 45. Seriously, small hairdryer and my hair = looking like cast member of the Lion King.

In any case, considering that D’s previous ex’s hairdryer was still in his apartment, I should have cottoned on to the fact that something was amiss or at least figured out that there was a hypothesis waiting to be tested out there.

Hypothesis:
Single man with hairdryer = Potential for more hairdryers to be accumulated as a result of other failed relationships

I didn’t realise the potential of this hypothesis until I dated Spooner last year. Now, the man lives up a freaking hill. Just heading down to the supermarket to get some beers and walking back up the blasted slope left me sweating like a rapist. And given that I wash my hair everyday (no it hasn’t fallen out, and it won’t, again, have you seen my hair?!), the idea of not being able to rinse it out of all that muck and sweat left me very, very grumpy. Ironically, he too had a hairdryer in his apartment, only his belonged to his mother and not some random woman he had shagged in the past. It was a good hairdryer too. Only problem is, his mother had brought it in from the UK when she had come to visit and the freaking plug would not fit into the local electrical wall sockets. Given that I am not prone to running around with a universal adapter in my handbag, I couldn’t use the bleeding piece of machinery. What did I do? I went in search of hairdryer. Duh. After investing 80 dollars, I had a spanking new Rowenta to deal with my rug. Hallelujah. Joy to the world. My hair is saved!

And then we split up.

The fucker never returned my stuff and definitely did not return my hairdryer. So technically, he too now has two hairdryers lying around in his apartment. Wanker. Stupid git. Toad jizz.

Well I should have figured something was up by now right? No I didn’t. My hypothesis was being tested right under my very nose and I was none the wiser. I can be a bit slow off the mark at times, I do admit.

So now we come to the present day situation. Despite the brevity of our relationship, AJ and I spent a lot of time together. This meant me monging at his place during the weekends and even going to work on Mondays from his. Yes, it was one of those romances where two people could spend more than 72 hours with each other and not want to throw the other person passing under a passing bus. I distinctly remember this conversation one weekend.

Me: I have to tell you something.
AJ: Er... what?
Me: I need a hairdryer.
AJ: I’ve got one. But it’s a bit wonky. It was my ex’s.
Me: Okay, I need a proper one.
AJ: I know. You have a mane hun. No worries, let’s go get one later.

And so we did. We went out and got a hairdryer. Again, I totally missed the sign blaring in front of my face. Single man has hairdryer. Said dryer belongs to ex. *WARNING! WARNING!*

When we called it quits, the man arrived with a COLD STORAGE plastic bag full of my stuff – a dress, a toothbrush, a roll of deodorant, a weekend purse, my flip-flops and conveniently forgot my hairdryer. Nevermind.

Given that I had to return his iPad and his jumper which I had borrowed for my trip to Europe, it was somewhat non-commitally agreed that we should meet up and swap our things in due time.
Now, I am generally a very, very patient person. My tolerance for bullshit from humans is quite epic. Alas, I waited the whole of last week and did a lot of thinking, soul-searching, mental-swearing and then decided, “Fuck this. I don’t want to see him. I am going to return his stuff... by courier.”

So I sent his stuff back to him today. About midday came a text. Enjoy the following exchange.



Okay, I admit I was a bit hasty with the reply and only realize the hairdryer return-policy was being brought up after I sent that text. Alas, the man is soooo sharp.



Seriously mate, if I would go through all the effort to get your things couriered to your office, do you really think I want to see your face? Do you? Huh? Huh? Huh??? But woe betide me! Some people are really, THICK in the head.



Yes, thank you. I too am very glad that you would 'literally' be willing to meet me for two minutes. God only knows how one deals with figurative meetings. They never taught me that in the UandI-versity. Is it me or are people really that dense these days? Or is the world filled with Muppets that only understand certain codes? Do I have to sing Fuck Off Far, Far Away to the tune of Elmo Song before you get what I am trying to say?

Urgh.

Either way, another hairdryer bites the dust. So ladies, if the next guy you date has a hairdryer lying about, please exercise extreme caution about leaving yours behind because you clearly will not be the last one. And there's no comfort for hairdryer loss. Trust me, I've been there. Thrice.

Hello mate, fancy a shag?

Well, my last post seems to have struck a chord with some folks. I’ve had a couple of people ask me to expand on the subject of how to find an “ideal” fuck buddy (henceforth referred to as FB or I risk having the keys f,u,c, and k, falling off my keyboard from excessive use).

Now, let me state for the record that there is no such thing as an “ideal” FB. Face it, there’s no ideal anything. Should there be an ideal situation, I wouldn’t be sitting here at the age of 28, single and fed-up with the very thought of relationships. Therefore, let’s throw ideal out of the equation here. Let’s be realists for about five minutes and just deal with the task of trying to a decent, normal, good, reasonable FB.

Time to fess up – I’ve had a couple of FBs over the years. The first one was an ex boyfriend. We dated for about half a year and I realized that the relationship was moot and called things off. Why? Well, we didn’t have much in common. He was a banker, I was trying to sort myself out and was at the time, working in some crappy job just to get the bills paid (no I wasn’t a Starbucks barrista, thanksverymuch). So what do two people who are poles apart do when they get together? They have sex. Lots of it. And truth be told, there wasn’t much else to that relationship. Just hours and hours of sex.

After the relationship ended, this said ex who shall be known only as Juicemaker decided for some reason known only to him that he wanted us to remain friends. Given that I was never in the business of being friends with any of my former partners, I was slightly taken aback at the suggestion but decided to give it a shot any way.

The whole being ‘friends’ caper seemed to work a treat initially. We’d talk on the phone and text each other pretty regularly and it was all cool. Then one day he invited me over to his place for dinner. I went over, like a lamb headed for the barbie. No prizes for guessing what happened after dinner was over and the last of the wine was drained from the dregs. Let’s just say that fellatio should never be part of one’s dessert menu.

After that night, this little arrangement became a regular feature for several weeks after. What did we have to lose? We were familiar with each other’s bodies, we knew what the other person liked, and we still talked, albeit on a non-committal level but it was easier to just sleep with each other as opposed to going out on the pull and finding someone new. And to make matters worse, the sex was pretty decent. All was well for a wee while until it got to a point where Juicemaker decided to get back into dating other people. He rang me one day telling me about this girl, whom he called ‘Apple’ and how she had a really hot friend called ‘Orange’ and how he was really into ‘Orange’ but it was ‘Apple’ who kept wanting to come after him. By the way, it was him who named those women after fruit and it was my best mate who came up with the moniker of Juicemaker for him. Years later, my friends STILL refer to him as that. Go figure.



With his fruit basket in tow, Juicemaker then proceeded to tell me how he wanted to suggest a ménage trios with both girls. Up until that point, I had been dealing with the conversation by gritting my teeth and chanting, “Iamhisfriend, Iamhisfriend, Iamhisfriend” silently in my head. However, at the suggestion of a happy fruit basket gathering, I fell into a black hole and wanted to spray Juicemaker with industrial-strength pesticide and watch him shrivel up and die.

Shortly after that episode, I put a stop to our illicit romps. Don’t get me wrong. I wasn’t jealous and neither was I wanting more out of our little arrangement. I was highly irritated at the fact that Juicemaker was trying to get the best out of all worlds by using me as his emotional sounding board, confidante, AND sex puppet. I was just one step short of being the perfect girlfriend who listened to your problems, let you fuck around as you pleased and was still willing to fuck your brains out whenever she was given an opportunity. Yeah I am naturally generous but that was too much even for the likes of yours truly. What do you take me for – Mother Theresa?

Hence that came to an end quite quickly. However, lessons learnt from that experience include:

1. Do not convert an ex boyfriend into a FB. It is a disaster waiting to happen regardless of whether you’re emotionally uninvolved or not.
2. Do not fuck fruit.
3. Do not fuck people who like to fuck fruit.

The second FB I had was a completely different enigma altogether. I cannot remember how we met but I knew from the get-go that he was a complete, utter, wanker. If I recall correctly, we went on a few dates and it transpired to us having sex. Now, here’s the weird part. He told me that he had a girlfriend (actually it was fiancé but he conveniently didn’t mention that until much later). And he also told me that he was very keen on fucking me.

One would have thought that given the above scenario, I would have been smart enough to realise that the guy was a total douchebag and fled from that tangled web like Carl Lewis in his heyday. I didn’t. If anything, I did the complete opposite and agreed to sleep with him knowing full-well that he was technically someone else’s husband-to-be and that he was a complete bastard for cheating on his fiancé with me.

Perhaps I was temporarily insane or confused or stupid or just on some emotional bender that required me to act like a total twat... it all happened a long time ago and my reasons for doing what I did evade my memory now. Either way I am not proud of my decision but I did it anyway.

In any case, my sessions (yes, therapy), with that prick was all about sex. Was it any good? Sadly, the answer is a resounding no. He had a small dick. Ladies and gentleman, he was the size of a box of Ricola pearls. REEECOLAAAA! It was hardly satisfying most of the time but I had been sexually active long enough and promiscuous enough (I pray my mother and all other relations NEVER find this blog), to work myself to the point of an orgasm and then finish him off so that he’d leave me alone.

This went on for several months. I didn’t like the guy at all. I didn’t care about him in the slightest. In fact, if he had been hit by a bus I wouldn’t have spared him half a thought even then. You could say I loathed him. And yet I was okay with fucking him. What was really interesting was that he knew that I had no interest in him aside from using him for sex. That knowledge wound him up. He didn’t like the fact that I had no desire to be concerned about him in any manner whatsoever apart from what went on between foreplay and climax.

I eventually put an end to that sordid affair because the knowledge that he was engaged to someone else made me feel horribly guilty about the entire fiasco. Granted I never knew or met the girl in question but I felt awfully sorry for her because she was going to end up marrying a complete twat. Rumours I heard said she was no better than him because she was also fucking random guys behind his back but that was not the point. I knew I wouldn’t want to in a relationship where the other half was out shagging someone else behind my back.

Now apart from the fact that the goon mentioned above had a girlfriend and was hopelessly under-endowed, he was a reasonable FB. Yes, go ahead and blink blankly at that statement. The reason I say he was a reasonable FB is because he ticked a lot of other boxes.

1. Does not resemble Frodo Baggins or Gollum. – Check.
(What is in the trousers is a bit difficult to ascertain in the initial stages hence there’s always a risk factor there. Same goes with the chances of you contracting a STD really.)

2. Does not try to cuddle you post-coitus. – Check.
I cannot emphasize how much you must NOT connect with your FB on any level apart from the physical one. Any man who wants to cuddle/snuggle/curl-up and then talk about his day needs to be chucked out of the bed pronto. You don’t form emotional bonds with your FB unless you’re raving psychopath who wants to set yourself up for a mega episode of dysfunctional emotional trauma. Really, you don’t need to know about how crap his HR manager was to him on Tuesday. And if you really need to cuddle something, get a spare pillow or slap yourself twice and you’ll be fine.

3. Does not attempt to contact you for any reason apart from setting up fuck dates. – Check.
Dirty text messages are not part of FB etiquette. Couples do that. Cheating husbands do that with their mistresses. If you’re fucking someone for the sake of just fucking, you don’t tease the other person about it. You just fuck.

4. Is not a friend of yours and is not a friend of your friend. – Check.
We all know how friends always get caught in the crossfire of failed relationships between two people. It is always best to keep your FB out of your trusted circle. You don’t want him to get pally with your mates so that when you choose to get rid of him, he doesn’t turn up at your next barbecue gathering or worse, the dinner party where you introduce your new boyfriend to all your friends. Plus, you really don’t want him to be telling all your mates about what a dirty little skank you are in bed and how much you like the pretzel position do you?

5. Not a virgin – Check.
Do I really have to explain this? No? Awesome.

Now go forth and find thyself a FB.

Laws of Huh?

So yesterday saw me hanging out with G-doll over lunch and a couple of drinks after. After she got over the horror that she was sprouting gray hairs, we proceeded to fill each other in on what has been going on in our madcap lives over the past few months. I showed her the entire AJ fiasco on my iPhone to which she shook her head in total confusion. Yeah, that's about the same reaction everybody has had thus far apart from my darling brother who went, "Did he hit his head whilst falling over and twisting his ankle by any chance?" The honest answer to that is, I have no freaking idea.

And so I was telling G-doll how I was once again trying to lie low and avoid all weirdos and weird happenings so that I can restore normalcy into my otherwise comical life and how I happen to be failing miserably on that front. Much of this has to do with the re-appearance of dear Tomski. Yes, after two months of silence the man decides to pop up on MSN whilst I am at work and scare the beejeezus out of me.

Now given that his last attempt at conversation was to try to get me to sleep with him in the middle of some random night, and I politely declined and told him to go give himself a handjob, he went silent thereafter. Silent = disappearing off MSN, no more texts, zero contact. So when I got back to work after my trip and he popped up online, I almost fell off my chair in fright. For the sake of maintaining privacy, I don't keep logs of my online conversations on my work laptop, hence I can't stick screenshots of the convo here. In summary, he referred to me as "his old friend" (WHAT have you been smoking mate?), and then proceeded to ask me if I had "coupled up yet" (Is THAT what they call it these days?) and then went on to ask me if I can help with writing copy for his company website. All this after asking me if I was a "real PR person".

*slaps forehead*

And so the plan was to meet up with him and his business partner over the weekend to talk stuff through and figure out what needs to be put up on the site.



Ah, so the man is capable of being normal. Who would have thunk it?



Hang on a second. What was that clause for? I admit, I burst out laughing when I saw that 'disclaimer'. Anyway...





Ah, all business on Sunday until...3:05 am on Wednesday morning. (What? What?? WHAT???)Pray tell, why would I even WANT to awake at that time of the day? So yes, I was fasto in my bed and oblivious to the rest of the world. His response to my silence was amazing.



Oh my gawwwwwwd... he called me LAME at 3:46 in the morning. Bloody bastard. I woke up the next morning and saw the messages and scratched my head in astonishment. Through simple deduction I came up with this equation:

Drunk man + weird text message asking if one is awake in the middle of the night = Booty call

Now given that I know EXACTLY what his intentions were, I chose to feign ignorance. Given my line of work, feigning ignorance is part and parcel of life. Sometimes it's best to pretend that you're a stupid ignoramus because you actually can get more out of people that way. Before you think that I am a conniving, evil, self-serving PR person who goes all out to pretend to be something she is not with everyone, let me clarify that this side of me usually only exists in the work-sphere. I drop the PR mask when I am out of work and I am 100% myself around friends and loved ones. I admit I do pull the mask back on when dealing with total knobs outside of work at times but that's only because they're knobs. If I sound a tad defensive here, it's only because people have a bad habit of thinking that just because of my job, everything I say or do is loaded with a hidden meaning or agenda. That, ladies and gentlemen, is absolute bloody bollocks. I'm as straightforward as straightforward can be. I wouldn't be here writing about the inane things that take place in my life if I wanted to pretend to be something else.

Right, where was I? Ah yes, feigning ignorance about Tomski's middle-of-the-night weirdness. Well, as you've seen from my response, that is exactly what I did. I wanted to see how he would respond to that message. He obviously ducked the whole thing by avoiding the entire subject for a whole day. Okay fine, be a coward, you little shmuck... because I am a lot smarter than you give me credit for. :P



The conversation stopped there. Perhaps he was on to the fact that I was prodding to see what he would say and he was embarrassed. Or maybe he finally realized that I am not some random skank who will jump into bed with him just because he's tired of wanking. Fine Tomski, we had one random romp many months ago, but that doesn't mean I want you to feature regularly in my (currently non-existent), sex-life. I don't mind the idea of a fuck buddy at this point in time, but if I may be so honest, he's not quite what I'm looking for. I have this whole other theory about finding the 'proper' FB but that's a another post for a different day.

In any case, G-doll was privy to this little entertaining exchange yesterday and suggested that all this weirdness could probably be attributed to the 'Law of Attraction'. I was slightly appalled by this suggestion. The stupid philosophy states that "like attracts like" - that not only do we attract circumstances, material objects and people to us according to our actions, but also according to the thoughts we consistently hold in mind.

ARGH.

Given that I am trying to fly under the bloody radar and just be bloody normal for awhile, the whole "like attracts like" concept simply cannot be true. I am not looking for weirdness. I'm looking for normal! I'm not looking for weird men. I'm looking for sane, normal, non-fuckwitted ones! And given that I have been a very good girl lately and stayed home as much as possible (okay, that's arguable really), how is it that all these mad people insist on popping up out of the middle of nowhere and tormenting me? Just in case you're wondering why I picked the plural form there, I will tell you that Tomski is not the only one who has made a weird re-appearance. Remember darling Nik aka Darth Wanker? Yes, that one. The one who went missing in a carpark... *rolls eyes* Well, he's suddenly decided that he's still keen despite my repeated attempts to shrug him off. He decided to pop up on Facebook and start a conversation that left me wanting to curl up in fetal position and cry. Anyway I have managed to avoid him for the time being. Let's hope it stays that way.

Sigh.
If there is a god, I would humbly like to request that he stop all this weird nonsense and send me someone awesome and normal...

Like Ian Somerhalder. :)



Now that's not much to ask for is it?

Oooh La

Yeah the title of the post is after a song by The Kooks. Am on a bit of a bender since the latest weekend listening to and YouTubing Luke Pritchard and gang to the point where I can probably can sing 'Tick of Time' backwards. (If you haven't already realised that I have weird moments, then this is proof.)

So apart from mulling over the bizarre end of my latest whirlwind romance with AJ and getting hit on by an aircon repairman from China en route to work this morning, I had a good think about how friends or rather people grow up and get to certain points in life sooner or later. The thing is, the point(s) never changes. Whether it's about sorting your life out and getting a proper job and climbing the career ladder, or choosing to stop playing the field and settling down with a semi-respectable human or just learning how to make your own bed, the milestones so to speak, generally remain the same for most people. It's the amount of time it takes and the shit in between that happens that varies with individuals.

Whilst in Europe I exchanged a couple of emails with a mate of mine who lives in New Zealand. I've known Spazz for eons now and we once had a little relationship that was short-lived because we knew that we were designed to be nothing more than mates. Before he moved back to New Zealand Spazz and I used to catch up regularly and exchange notes on our equally sordid love lives over kebabs and bottles of wine. He even met my last serious ex D a few times and it was all cool. I miss having him around because he travels a god awful lot with his job and emails are sometimes sporadic and sometimes there's no contact for months. But when we do write or get in touch, we just pick up where we left off. Nice to know that distance never conquers some things.

Anyway, I got a mail out of the blue when I was in Europe.

From Spazz
>>>> On 21-Mar-2011, at 4:00 PM, @gmail.com> wrote:
So...........how mad are wid me?
Are you ok doll?

From me
>>> On 22/03/2011, @gmail.com> wrote:
Geezer! Where the feck have you been?!?

I'm all right. Am actually at Chamonix at the moment traveling with a
mate across europe. Heading towards Rome tmrw afternoon. How the hell are u mister?

From Spazz
>> On 22-Mar-2011, at 5:30 PM, @gmail.com> wrote:
Oh wow living the good life aye? Awesome and well done.

I am doing fab. Currently in sydney for another week. So yeh I have settled down. Ahem. Yep i m off the market doll. I knw u are jus severely dissapointed rite? Lol.

Had to be done and its awesum. No majic weirdness. Just awesumness. Lol.

Wots new with you?

From me
> On 23/03/2011, @gmail.com> wrote:
Settled down eh? Did you get married without telling me then??!! Lol.

Well am all for awesomeness mate you know that! What's new with me? Well on vacation at the moment. Just happily exploring the world with a friend. There's a bf back home and he's cool. Time will tell I guess. I've kinda chilled out a whole lot after splitting up with D. Been out with a few people since but nothing special. Have got a good feeling about the current one but hey, I guess I'll just have to wait and see what happens. Not gonna be surprised if he turns out to be a complete fuckwit either. ;)

Good to know you're all settled mate. That's pretty awesome news really!! So when do I get to meet her? Or him?! Or did you fall in love with a sheep!!? Lol... ;)

Take care geez, it's always good to hear from you. X :)

From Spazz
>On Tuesday, March 22, 2011, @gmail.com> wrote:
Thx for the updation hun.

I am glad u are all free and cozy. I enjoyed all of that and it got bit addictive.

But life is all about changes and chances and I am embracing that fullly now.

Maybe u will get to meet her. Who knows. She is very tradional and I luv that. I had been with too many skanks I guess. I am relishing the KISS principle now. Keep It Simple Stoopid.

You are a very kool mate. Always a special pleasure meeting and chatting with u. We clicked day1.

Jus be ureself doll I luv the way u are

____________________________________________________________________

Okay so Spazz's spelling leaves something to be desired but like I said, we always carry on wherever we last left off. And it's nice to know that he's finally found someone to slow things down with and take it easy with in pure awesomeness. :) Truth be told, some of the antics that Spazz used to get up to and the women he used to get involved with used to worry the life out of me. I was always waiting for him to sit at the table one day and tell me he'd banged some random woman up or was involved in breaking someone's marriage up. I wouldn't put it past him. He is and always has been capable of doing all those things so it's a bit of a shock to the system to hear that he's changed his ways and decided to stick with one and just the one.

Before you think that this is me thinking that I wish things has been different between Spazz and myself, then let me stop you right there and tell you that's just all wrong. Like I said before, we're mates and though I love Spazz dearly, I don't have any desire to pursue anything other than the solid friendship we've built together over the years. I suppose the point I am trying to make through all of this is that we're all essentially the same. Yeah, Spazz has acted like a right bastard during some occasions in the past and treated some people really poorly and I am pretty sure at some point in time some girl somewhere who got her heart broken by him must have sat and swore and called him every vile name that exists in the book meant for dickheads. I'm just saying that just because he was an arsehole once or many upon a time, it doesn't mean he is incapable of changing his ways.

It takes a lot of courage and maturity for someone to Spazz to stop dicking about and stick to one person. Then again, it could really be about the idiot falling in love. Finally!!! It's about bloody time mate!

In any case, I am happy for him. Yeah my personal life isn't the greatest but it's nice when things go well for my friends because in some weird, obscure way, I share their joy too. :)

Oh and if you have never heard of The Kooks, please go throw yourself under the next passing bus.

White

If I had to describe the past 5 days of my life in one sentence, this would be it - It has been absolute wank.

Now I know I've just returned from holiday and technically I should be all zen and one with the universe all that other bollocks. Don't get me wrong. In many ways, I am totally zen and chilled out. The trip achieved what it had to. I've got some new perspectives, my body and brain are renewed and refreshed and I've come to some pertinent realizations. Alas, the journey back home from Madrid via Dubai was a mission in itself. Nightmare does not begin to describe it. Let's just say that I screamed at customs officials, got my flight totally messed up, did not sleep for 24 hours and came awfully close to being thrown into a middle-eastern jail.

The reason for my current disgruntled state can be attributed to one person and one person alone. Up until last weekend, everything with AJ was fine and dandy. We were talking regularly, keeping in touch via text, email and other modern technological conveniences. That was until we had a Skype conversation on Sunday afternoon whilst I was in Barcelona.

Considering that I had been running around Europe like a teenager on smack, I was at the point where I was getting physically tired, missing home and getting frustrated with my travel mate. I managed to get hold of AJ on Skype on Sunday and we had a little chat about well, not much really. It was just the general banter, 'What have you been up to? How are you feeling? What's the plan for the coming week etc.'

The convo turned out to be a double-edged sword. I was well cranky and being a little bitch (no point hiding anything here). And he was hungover and nursing a badly sprained ankle after bringing the dog out for a walk at 4:30am the previous night with one too many jaeger bombs in his system, resulting in him going over his ankle and basically fucking it.

Now common sense should tell you that two people of the above description should probably not engage in any sort of conversation as it would probably result in some sort of disaster regardless of how amicable their relationship may be. Guess what? It was an absolute bloody disaster indeed.

Without having to go too much into detail, let me just summarize by saying that the conversation did not go well and ended rather abruptly. After both parties had logged off, I sat and stared at the screen for a considerable period of time and then came to the conclusion that I had acted like a complete twat and was well out of order with some of the things I had said and proceeded to send a text to AJ apologizing for my abjectly stupid behaviour during the convo.

I got no response. Until about 12 hours later...

When I saw his reply, I was slightly miffed. I did not deign to respond immediately. Firstly I was running to catch my train to Granada from the Madrid terminal and secondly, the tone of the text put me on edge. Given that I was still in a semi-vicious mood, I decided it was best to leave it lest I replied with something snarky and have the whole situation go pear-shaped.

En route to Granada, I observed a man on the train. I was highly fascinated by his hair and his left hand. That was all I could see. Curious to know whether his facial appearance would do justice to what appeared to be pretty awesome hair and left hand, I waited till the train reached my destination before I got a proper look at his face. Boy was I disappointed. Upon checking into my hotel, I proceeded to post a cheeky FB status update regarding Carlos (yes, that was his name, gleaned from his laptop screen, from which he was emailing throughout the ride). Little did I know that my little tongue-in-cheek update would be misconstrued in the most magnificently idiotic manner possible by the ONE person who should have known better.

It was AJ's birthday on Tuesday. I sent him at text from Europe wishing him at midnight back home. Again, I got no response. In that text I said I would ring him once I was up in the morning.

The next morning, as I excitedly prepared to call AJ whilst my travel mate was in the shower, I saw a FB message from him that stopped me dead in my tracks. Without having to explain everything, here are excerpts of that message that left me thoroughly bewildered.

From AJ:

Hey hun!

Thanks for the text message...! I was a little suprised by it if I'm honest so all good...

Well yes, I apologise for not writing yesterday, I thought it best to grab a bit of breathing space... As I've been having a marvellously grand headfuck since sunday, and I can tell you something similar over the last few days...

Also, to make matters more fun, I've got to work this weekend, and also have family passing thru...
But basically, I doubt that were gonna be able to catch up until next week, which is a bit of a pain....

Sorry for being negative in this!! I've tried to keep as positive as possible for a while now!!! And timing of visitors I know is a complete pain!!

Also, I'm not sure of your rationale behind the carlos status update thing.... As you say to me, you work in pr so if there is an undertone of some sort their, then fair enough.....

Anyways, have fun and catch you soon

X

Oh great. What the fuck is all that about?

Firstly, why should you be surprised that I sent you a HB text? We ARE dating after all. Did something change along the way and people you date aren't meant to wish you on your birthday?

Secondly, it's amazing how your family and friends decide to pass through on the weekend when I am due back in the country...the very same weekend you specifically wanted to spend with me.

Thirdly, what on earth are you trying to keep positive about? And why the hell are you headfucked?

Fourthly, you're bothered about the Carlos update? Are you for real???

Reading that message (I didn't post all of it here), left me in a bit of a shock. My first reaction was to get extremely upset. I put my phone down and made the immediate decision to NOT ring him as planned. Thereafter I drafted a response to that highly aggravating message and sent it. My reply was in no way impolite. It merely acknowledged his weekend plans and provided an explanation to the ludicrous Carlos update.

Again, I had to wait 24 hours for a reply. Well, considering it was his birthday that day, I gave him the benefit of the doubt.

Came his reply: (Cue more aggravation)


Erm.....

well if i'm honest that response was a bit unexpected in its tone and what it says! No need to apologise... its ok.... But theres not much I can say off the back of the above either....

Really. REAAAALLLY? How the hell does one react to this without wanting to scream?

Annoyed with all this wishy-washyness, I decided to grab the bull by the horns.

From me:
Ok...

Unexpected? Sorry I think your email was unexpected. Please explain the following:

1. Why were you headfucked? (I don't care if I'm on bloody holiday. It's been bothering me for the past 24 hours.)

2. Why in the world would you think the Carlos post meant anything at all?

3. Why was my text to you saying HB such a surprise?

Got to run. But I'd really appreciate those answers. X


He didn't make me wait overnight this time. I got a reply within 8 hours. Alas, it didn't help soothe my ruffled feathers at all.

From AJ:
Don't take this the wrong way, and I really don't want you to think I'm a twat!! That is the last thing I would want.... But I don't really want to explain that in detail over an email.. as it would take an age and its also probably best if I actually talked that through with you face to face... As there are a few reasons... I have re-read a lot of our email exchange and also contemplated a fuck load over the last few days.... which has kind of altered my mindset a lot... which is shit I know... a lot of it has to do with me, and maybe you are right about certain things, and a little with you, which again I would rather talk through than email about...

Blah...blah...blah...blah...blah...

Safe journey hun both around Madrid and also home.... I don't expect a response to this email, so don't worry about that... But yeah we do need to have what will no doubt be a rubbish talk next week.... If I don't hear from you I'll drop you a text over the weekend to check if your alive and made it back safe...

:(

I sent one last response after that message. Thereafter, I got no replies. He did send me a couple of texts when he found out I was stranded and livid in Dubai thanks my epic rant on FB. I got home eventually and spent the weekend pretty much on my own with a bottle of whiskey, a pack of cigarettes, my thoughts, a few tears and my bed. (It had to be done.) All that time, I didn't hear a peep from the feller.

Went in to work today, still none the wiser about the ongoing idiocy and decided that I should just focus on work when suddenly my phone went off around lunchtime.



Why am I so civil? WHY???




I didn't bother replying to that last message. I was too peeved off and secondly, I didn't quite know how to react without screaming at him like a banshee. Seriously, you ignore me the whole weekend and then suddenly pop up like a finger up the arse and pretend all is well between us with seemingly "normal" conversation?

Was he not the one who said that we NEED TO TALK??? So if that is the case, then why are you acting like you cannot see the giant mammoth staring us both in the face in the same room???

Can someone tell me why this man is being such a pain? Don't get me wrong. I like him. I like him a lot. Going out with him is like going out with myself only he's more insane in varying degrees but for the first time in a long time I've met someone who is willing to sit down and be frank with me and treat me like a human without being condescending. And into that nice little scenario, he has thrown one hell of a monkey wrench making me wonder how one fucking Skype conversation can result in the man thinking, changing his mind and suddenly feeling the need to discuss 'us'. It's like the electricity suddenly came back on after the power tripped.

I've been given differing opinions about the situation with the few people that I have discussed this with. The general sentiment is that yes, the both of you need to sit down and talk and find out what the hell is going on with all of this rubbish. However, I am highly inclined to believe this 'talk' is going to end up being another episode of 'I'm sorry babe, but I don't know what I want and I think we should stop seeing each other.' If that is indeed the reality of it, then fine. I will deal with that graciously because at least he has the balls to tell me to my face and be polite about it. On the other hand, if it is not the case and he really just needs to air some issues out, there's no guarantee that I will not be the on who throws the towel in. The thought has crossed my mind already and I have given it some serious thought.

The truth is, I want to go out with someone who doesn't do my head in. And this is fucking my head up a bit too much for my liking.

I've got to keep it simple.

Jelly Legs

Why haven't I written?

Well, I've been too busy having glorious amounts of sex.
(Make of that what you will. :) Ha!)

Now, I know for a fact that there are two types of men in bed. Ones that make you go, "Oh dear Lord, what is he doing?!" and then there's the second category that makes you go, "Oh dear Lord, what is he doing?!"

Hands up all of you who think the first reaction is a positive one? Ah. Sorry to disappoint folks but that's not a good sign if a woman is lying on her back, staring straight up at the ceiling wondering what that creature, droid, uhm... person on top of her is trying to accomplish with the monotonous thrusting whilst simultaneously sweating on you and flaring his nose like a racehorse that makes watching the Tour De France on your sofa seem like an extreme sport in comparison.

I've had my fair share of deadbeats in bed. I am starting to wonder if there is a select species of men who think that just sticking themselves inside a woman and pumping themselves to orgasm is the be-all and end-all of sex. In return, I admit to having had to fake a number of orgasms in my lifetime just so that the whole sorry episode will end, THAT much quicker.

For example:

Useless specimen: Have you cum yet babe? (Still thrursting madly.)
Me: Uhh... yeah babe. Mmm... (Christ, are you serious?!)
Useless specimen: Really? You sure? (Add panting to wild thrusting.)
Me: Yeah babe. In fact I'm going to...again...right now. (Cue: Moaning and weird face-pulling and subtle eye-rolling and the mental screaming of, "Hurry the fuck up!")

Now, common sense should dictate that if you have to ASK a woman if she has hit orgasm yet, then 9 out of 10 times, the answer is, "No you moron. I haven't. So you jolly well be doing something about it." Seriously, how can you NOT know when she's had one? Where were you when it was happening? Greece?! So if you really feel compelled to ask, I suggest you better be asking because you're planning to give her one (or three) as opposed to asking out of 'courtesy' so you can take it as indirect permission to let your swimmers loose.

Alas, we all know common sense is a tall order. Oh dear Lord, what is he doing? GAH.

I suppose the next question lurking in most filthy minds is to whether size matters. Well, I am going to go out on a limb here and declare once and for all... IT DOES NOT.

There. I said it. And truth be told, it really doesn't. Sure, if you're well-endowed, we ain't going to complain. The only time we'd freak out is if you pulled out a garden hose from your boxers or if your erection fails to give a box of mints a run for its money. In those two instances, yes size matters. But for very different reasons. Seriously, garden hoses are dangerous. Mints are meant to be kept in your pocket and if you're weapon of mass desolation destruction can't compete with a box of Ricola pearls, then maybe you need psychological help. Plus a little blue pill?

But let's face it. There are guys with gloriously thick, long plonkers and there are those who aren't quite so gloriously thick and long. Hey, it takes all sorts to make the world go round. At the end of the day, he could have an appendage the size of the Empire State Building and still be a complete dud in bed. As I said, if you're built like King Kong, then hurrah! But if you're not, it doesn't mean you need to resort to swatting airplanes in mid-air, thumping your chest is fury and then getting shot repeatedly until you topple 10,000 feet down. (I really need to stop watching that movie.)

Most women I know will collectively agree that it's not what you have but how you use it. And here's a little fact. Most women do not orgasm from penetration at all. *GASP*

There's a simple reason for this. The nerve endings in a woman's genital area are all outside the little magic tunnel. Hence your focus should not just be all about the wham-bam but everything around it. I've had the good fortune to have had a couple of experiences that have driven this theory home (call it heaven), and am a firm believer that you can make a woman want to climb the walls (out of pure ecstasy of course) without bringing a knob anywhere near her. Tried. Tested. Bought the t-shirt.

And the best part is, once a woman gets to that point, she'll want more. She'll beg for it. Her legs will be weak, wobbly and feel like jelly but she'll be begging for you to please, please, pleeease shag her brains out. That would be the part where you, as the manly man should deny her (only for about 10 minutes), and then proceed to quite willingly shag her like a (insert preferred adjective here) to the point where she's lying on her back thinking, "Oh dear Lord, what is he doing?"

Try it over the weekend.
;)

Let Me Entertain You

Well, this one is a bit long overdue. Remember I mentioned something weird happening on the night I found out about Spooner and the barmaid? Well, I was about to go to sleep when my phone vibrated next to my head. It was good old Tomski with another proposition. And for the uninitiated, my responses are the ones in the green bubble. Sorry, I can't tolerate bad English even in text messages. Yes, I am anal about that so shut up. :)



Funny how he gets defensive when I asked if he was on holiday? I guess asking valid questions is out of fashion these days. Anyway...



No, I have no qualms saying, "Go wank." Really.



Uhmm... No Tomski, it doesn't take a genius to figure out what you wanted from me. But I can never resist an opportunity to take the piss. ;)
In any case, here's the clincher...



And just in case you're wondering, nothing happened that night and he has not pursued the matter either.

Can we kick it? Oh yes, we can. ;)

Cooler Than You

And so I once dated an asshole called Spooner
Should have checked the stars because he turned out to be a loser
It started off fun - dinner, drinks and snogs
Didn't realize til later that he was just a frog

Football is his thing, a die-hard fan of the Hammers
Used to ask me to stay the weekend and told me to bring my jammers
Listens to rap, hip-hop and drum and bass
Seems like the white boy is trying to make up for a horrific face
'Word up motherfucker!' is his favourite refrain
Yeah, the Wigga clearly has something missing in the brain

Used to drink beer, smoke fags and cheeky spliffs on weekends
I played along thinking that it'd do me good to move any way the wind bends
That was until I found out about the mystery trip
The one that involved Horseface's 'lovely' tits and made me flip
Split up shortly after, "Don't know what I want" he said
Bothered me for a while but then it's no loss because he was crap in bed

Heard through the grapevine that he hits on waitresses now
The man is so desperate that I'm sure he'll even shag a cow
Got wind that he thinks the women in my country aren't very interesting
He obviously hasn't heard himself talk - I'll tell you he's fucking boring
I guess he thinks he's just too cool for skool
What he doesn't know is that he's just a big, old fool

So I'm taking bets to say he'll never settle down
Probably run to Phuket someday and marry one of the locals for a pound
Or maybe he'll scoot back to home to wonderous Essex
Where the girls are about as bright and interesting as a jar of wax

Things that make you go 'Hmm...'

Drama follows me.

I swear I've been trying to be good and have kept my head ducked quite a fair bit lately so that I can avoid all the weird-ass moments that seem to follow me around like a bunch of ghouls. Turns out the ghouls are thinking strategically and calling me at my own bluff.

My brother decided to go out last night. He ended up at Muddies. (Why my dear feller?! Why???!!!) Now we all know that there's no love lost between my brother and Spooner even though the both of them have never met. My brother has been privy to all the flaky, insane, mad, dastardly behaviour that has ensued since the time of the split and the his general sentiment is that he wants to kick the beejeezus out of the motherfucker until he can't remember his own name. Hence, my brother showing up at Muddies on the eve of a public holiday was nothing short of a disaster waiting to happen.

Last night, I was home, sitting in front of the telly, clad in my jammys, thinking of nothing in particular when around half past midnight, my phone goes off with the caller ID flashing that my brother was calling. I picked up and then this happened...

Bro: He's HERE. *violent hiss*
Me: Waa? Who? WHAT?
Bro: Am at Muddies. The FUCKER is here. *insert more violent hiss*
Me: OH. Shit. (My brain clicked about half a second later than I wanted it to.)
Bro: Yes. Am outside having a fag. Fucker is in the corner with some tiny chick. She's a waitress here. Snogging.
Me: Oh okay. (You're allowed to snog customers when you're at work? That's a first?!)
Bro: BASTARD. She's Filipino. *rage is evident in the voice*
Me: Right. I want you to go back inside to your friends. DO NOT SAY OR DO ANYTHING! *crossing fingers, toes, everything*
Bro: But I want to kick him!
Me: No! I know you do... I do too but trust me. Leave it be.
Bro: Okay. I'm going. This is making me sick.

After he clicked off I put the phone down on the table and gave it a malevolent glare. Really. This is not what I wanted/needed. I smoked a fag and lost all interest in the movie I was watching with my brain in overdrive. I picked my phone back up and logged into Spooner's FB account. (Yes, I have access so technically I am not hacking. :P) Call it instinct, or say it was the devil on my shoulder egging me on. I did it and what I saw left me utterly speechless.

There was a series of private messages between Spooner and the waitress going on. I was thoroughly bewildered. These are two people who as far as I knew, were in same place at the same time, so why the hell were they messaging each other through Facebook? Secondly, have you idiots not heard of text messages?!

Now, as much as I am tempted to post images of the conversation up here, I will refrain from doing so. However, I am not THAT scrupulous particularly when it comes to mega fuckwits so I will post the content of the exchange between Spooner and the waitress as I saw it.

__________________________________________________
Message 1: 0024 hrs - From waitress to Spooner
hahaha! house party???

Message 2: 0048 hrs - From Spooner to waitress
Just me and u :) - coming

Message 3: 0054 hrs - From waitress to Spooner
is it a "date"?? haha!

naahhh.. Sorry hun, i got exam tom. i have to study.. see u on sat? ;)

Message 4: 0102 hrs - From Spooner to waitress
Stay at mine and study tomorrow...

Message 5: 0115 hrs - From waitress to Spooner
such a sweetie...

next time hun.. okey? i need to pass it, else i'll be fucked up.. haha! xx

Message 6: 0152 hrs - From Spooner to waitress
Come on babe

Message 7: 0156 hrs - From waitress to Spooner
aahhh... sorry hun..

i'm tired.. =(
next time, ok?

see u when i see u..

Message 8: 0205 hrs - From Spooner to waitress
Am tired... come sleep with me :)

Message 9: 0252 hrs - From waitress to Spooner
so go to bed and sleep..

nightynight.. sweetest dream.. xx

__________________________________________________

Feel free to let me know when you're done throwing up/ pulling your hair out/ screaming in horror/ rubbing the gooseflesh on your arms after you've read that.

I don't blame you. I was swinging between being thoroughly disgusted to completely bemused when I went through the exchange. I assure you that ALL of what I have just mentioned is true. I have screenshots to prove it. Oh clever, clever me. Anyway, halfway through exchange, where Spooner tries for the second time to get her to come home with him, I rang my brother back.

Bro: Yeah?
Me: You still there?
Bro: *growling* Unfortunately yes. What's going on?
Me: He's trying to bring her home.
Bro: WHAAAAT?!?!?
Me: Yes, they are PM-ing each other on FB as we speak.
Bro: Oh fuck... FUCK... this is sick. She's so young!
Me:Hardly. She's 26.
Bro: *groaning* Twat... twat... what a desperate twat...
Me: Oh for sure.
Bro: He's outside. She's running around serving but yeah, the phone's in her hand.
Me: Do me a favour. Leave. Leave after you finish your drink.
Bro: I will. I definitely will. I'm sorry. This is making me absolutely livid.
Me: Thank you but it's not worth me having to bail you out.
Bro: I'm sorry. You don't deserve this.
Me: I know. Chill. I'm okay. Just come home safe.
Bro: Okay... bye.

My brother left before Spooner left. However judging from the exchange, I am assuming he never succeeded with the waitress. Not that I care. This is a sure sign of someone on the rebound. It's a classic case. I've been there myself. Alas, at least I am smart enough to know that it takes two to tango, even horizontally.

I went to bed at about 2 am. However, just as I was about to shut my eyes, my phone went off and another weird thing happened. I am going to save that update for tomorrow's post actually. I think this one is a bit of nightmare to process already.

Funny thing is, the first thing Spooner did this morning is delete the entire exchange of messages from his inbox and sent items.

Oh and the waitress has two kids.

Hmmm... Infuckingdeed.