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.

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.

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.
;)

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.

Greetings from Planet Weird

And so I've been getting back up on the dating horse. Yeah, that's my problem. I just don't give up or die easily. I learnt that from the roaches. No, it's more like me thinking, "Sod the bullshit that happened last year, I need to get on with my life because I'm not getting any younger and my Mum is driving me up the wall with the indirect hints to settle down and to go forth and procreate." *shudders*
Her latest attempt at not-so-subliminal messaging came in the form of an early birthday present. I was monging on the sofa after a bizarre weekend involving sick amounts of alcohol and basically doing my "I will not talk to humans today" therapy session when she gaily appeared in front of me swinging a gift bag.

Me: (On the sofa doing my best impersonation of a lounge lizard)
Mum: Look! I got your birthday present already! *brandishes bag with gift*
Me: Huh? Wa...? What?
Mum: I didn't know what to buy you.
Me: Err... Okay, thanks Mum. (But my birthday is 15 days away?!)

Being generally impatient and also generally curious I decided to open my present. Oooh Crabtree and Evelyn. Cool. As if I don't already have a million other unopened, unused body products that are guaranteed to render me smelling like some tropical fruit, exotic valley flower or a cake. Really, I have no reason to not ever smell nice. And that is a fact.

But there was more! Nestled deep inside the wrapping were... two (count 'em), TWO packets of red packets or if one were to be local about it, ang paos.

I stared at the packets. I scratched my head. I stared at the packets some more. And then I went, "WHAT THE FUCK?" Yes, I'm mostly an eloquent creature.

Now we all know that singles do not give out red packets during Chinese New Year. On the contrary, singles are meant to RECEIVE them. Considering that I am a) not attached, b) not brought a boyfriend home in recent times, c) definitely not married, I should thereby, according to simple logic, fall into the 'single and doomed' category of people that all relatives love to torment during CNY festivities. Hence, having dear old Mum give me TWO packs of red packets to utilize when she knows full well that I am not in the position to give any was nothing short of bizarre. The only logical conclusion that could be drawn from all this was the fact that she was trying very subtly to tell me that it was time for me to settle down and be in an ang pao-giving position as opposed to being on the receiving end. Very subtle indeed. About as subtle as a mammoth erection on a bloody cold day.

Now I am all for settling down. The minor or should I say mega problem is that finding the right person to have a relationship with is about as easy as memorizing a book on tax law overnight. Let's not get so ahead of ourselves shall we? I can't even find someone decent to date so fuck the relationship aspect for now.

After splitting up with Spooner, I have met 4 new people. One was hopeless from the get-go. Vegan, angsty and borderline cuckoo. Nevermind. Next. Second one was fresh out of a long-term relationship and clearly unsure of what he wanted. Pity, because he was a nice feller who still happened to have his head still stuck up his ex's skirt.

The third one, who shall henceforth be named Nik showed some potential until our second date last Friday which turned out to be something that seemed like a page out of a comic book. Firstly, Nik is a ridiculous Star Wars fan. I will leave you to imagine the level of ridicule that I am referring to but let's just say that I am not using the word 'ridiculous' here loosely. It seemed like a normal night right up until the point where he went to the bathroom and disappeared.

Yes, Darth Vader Nik did a Harry Houdini and vanished into thin air or carpark (as he claims to have done).

Mind you, we both had been drinking a fair bit throughout the night and I was also battling fatigue in the worst way having had a late night the day before as well. So imagine my horror when the man did not return to our drinking locale and sent me a What'sApp message that went, "Sorry to have bored you. Think I got the message. :("

I think my brain got stuck at 3:30 in the morning at that point because I was like, "What the hell does that mean? And secondly, where the hell did he go?"

Turns out he never came back. Yes, the man pulled an ESCAPE.

Some furious messaging ensued but it turned out that the feller had jumped into a cab and gone home. I was left having to pick my jaw off the ground and made my way back home.

The next morning I sent him a message asking what the hell had gone wrong to have the previous night's events unfold as they had done. He claimed to have truly gotten lost en route to the little boy's room and had stumbled into the carpark and had no idea how to get back out. This explanation also came between a few lines of "I am sorry to have bored you, maybe I was talking too much and you seemed so 'cold''".

Cold?

Cold??

Cold?!?!???!

I'm sorry, but WHAT the hell was I supposed to be at 3:30 on a Friday night after a day at work dealing with a massive hangover from the night before? Were you expecting me to PEEL your prawns for you? Give you a back rub? Oh, were you really thinking I'd snog you if you plied me with enough drinks? Well too bad, I can hold my drink. Really well.

So needless to say, that is the end of Nik. I'm nipping this one in the bud. There's just no way I'm going out with someone who is most likely going to yell, "THE FORCE IS WITH ME!" at the point of orgasm.

Sigh.

I spent most of Saturday recovering from the previous night's traumatic experience. This involved sleeping the whole day. At night, I went out on a date with a new person who I shall christen 1Day.

Thus far 1Day seems to be sort of normal. I say sort of because he told me how his last relationship ended and it was like his ex-girlfiend was Linda Blair from The Exorcist because what she did to him seems to indicate that the woman is certifiably insane or possessed or both.

In any case, I am also a little wary of people who have had particularly bad relationships in the past because my last serious boyfriend was just like that and boy did he have confidence issues that rocked our relationship like hell. I'm not saying that everyone who dates a madwoman (or three), will end up being a complete basketcase but the chances of the person getting paranoid, insecure and possessive over the next person that they go out with increases significantly. And I could well do without all that weird-ass drama.

Hence things with 1Day will be taken very slowly. We'll just stick to a couple of text messages and the odd date for now.

Now, can someone please tell my Mum that I'm single not from the lack of trying but simply because I seem to have a penchant for picking specimens that fall straight out of Planet Weird?

Normal! That's all I'm asking/begging/pleading for!

5 Stages of Something or Another

So here I am, 28 days after my last entry. What has changed you ask? The short answer? Plenty. The long answer? Well that's coming up. Now before I carry on, I think I need to make a disclaimer here and warn you that there is a high possibility that this post might end up being one of my epic rants. I will try not let my inner ranter unleash hell but it's going to be tough considering how much I want to vent, combined with the fact that I am listening to the Tron Legacy soundtrack by Daft Punk whilst I write this.

Spooner and I have officially crashed and banged into nothingness. No wait, let me say that again. He crashed and banged into nothingness. I was just a bewildered bystander at the wayside. What happened? Nothing much really. One conversation set events in motion and things fell apart. It was the 12th of December and he had come home from football and was wasting away on the sofa. Now, I had known about the Phuket trip for a month by then and he still had not breathed a word about it to me. I was a bit, no, VERY sick of biting my tongue and the white knuckles that came with feigning ignorance by that point so I decided to bite the bullet and ask the pertinent question, "What are you doing for Christmas?"

If I had to describe the next few minutes of conversation that ensued after I asked that question, I'd ask you to picture a deck of falling cards in slow motion. Against all odds, he did not lie to me. I was bracing myself for a complex series of lies. Fuck, part of me wishes he HAD lied because things would have so much simpler to deal with. But he didn't. Damn the man. Instead, the next 5 minutes of conversation or should I say, interrogation that was carried out was akin to pulling teeth. The result? I took my bags and walked out of the apartment. The clincher? He did absolutelyfuckingnothing to stop me.

The following week saw a series of emails being dished out by both parties. Welcome to the modern world of dating and relationships. We don't even bother talking in person anymore. We bloody email. Let me get to the forgone conclusion then, we split up (over email, no less!), because his royal highness said, I quote, "I'm sorry, I'm messed up about this and I don't know what to think or do...One minute I want to carry on and the next I am reluctant...The last thing I want to do is mess you around so best we call it a day..."

Well that says bloody a lot doesn't it?

Firstly, I thought I was the female in that relationship. Apparently, I got it wrong. How does one person spend 4 months going out with another person and then SUDDENLY realize that they didn't know what they wanted? Pardon me for saying this, but was it that time of the month for him where his hormones were all totally whack?

Maybe I should also add that prior to that parting statement, he had accused me (yes, accused), of being insecure, clingy and demanding for commitment. I will now swear upon every hair on my head that every accusation he made was utterly baseless and total bullshit. I countered the arguments in my usual eloquent and succinct manner only to have ALL of it ignored. The man was grappling at invisible straws. Oh yes sireee, he was.

I didn't put up a fight. I may have initially but I lost steam because the more he dragged it out, the more apparent it became that all my efforts were pointless. Here was a man who claimed that he had not met someone he liked as much as he liked me in years. And here is the same man saying he doesn't know what he wants.

Truth be told, I completely disagree with the "I don't know what I want" excuse. It's such a lousy cop out. I know what he wants. I know EXACTLY what he wants because he wrote it down, clear as day, in an email to a strange girl he was getting to know a long time ago. Oh yes, I have literal evidence. In that email, he clearly stated that he wanted to settle down and start a family and that the hard part was finding someone worth the while to do that with. He then also proceeded to say that he understood that it got harder as one got older but that he was not going to impose any deadlines on himself.

Let me just sidetrack here a little and say that this is the type of man my father would have HATED with a vengeance. The indecisive, procrastinating, floater. It's like an annoying turd that refuses to get flushed down the toilet. I suppose this also explains why my little brother has taken a particularly aggravated stance towards Spooner's behaviour and actions (or lack of). The men in my house have always been extremely well-principled and this behaviour is not just frowned upon. It's simply not allowed. Why? No matter how you argue your point, procrastinating, especially when another person's feelings are involved, is never justified. In short, my brother would gladly sock Spooner in the face about a dozen times right now and then proceed to kick the shit out of him if he could.

Whilst having the regular Tuesday beerage with my colleagues last night, one of them mentioned that statistics have shown that most break-ups occur during the year-end holiday period and that one should technically go through the 5 stages of grief as detailed by Elizabeth Kubler-Ross from her book, 'On Death and Dying'.

Here are the 5 supposed stages:

1. Denial - The "No, not me" stage.
This stage is filled with disbelief in denial. If your partner asked for a break-up you think he/she will change their mind.

2. Anger/Resentment - The "Why me" stage.
Anger at the situation, your partner and others are common. You are angry with the other person for causing the situation and for causing you pain.

3. Bargaining - The "If you do this, I'll do that" stage.
You try to negotiate to change the situation. You might approach your partner who is asking for the break-up and say "If you'll stay I'll change".

4. Depression - The "It's really happened" stage.
You realize the situation isn't going to change. The break-up happened and there is nothing to bring the other person back. Acknowledgment of the situation often brings depression. This could be a quiet, withdrawn time as you soak in the situation.

5. Acceptance - The "This is what happened" stage.
Though you haven't forgotten what happened you are able to begin to move forward.

Let me just state for the record that psychologists collectively agree that one does not have to experience all 5 stages in the set order. I suppose this makes sense considering how you are more likely to 'bargain' with the other party whilst in the midst of breaking-up. In my case, denial, depression and bargaining have all come to pass. I am hovering between anger/resentment and acceptance. I am angry because I feel like a complete idiot for trusting that goon and being totally blind-sided by well, a number of things that I think I should keep private. I am also angry because Spooner has acted like a spineless git throughout the whole thing.

Well, here's to moving on then. To better times, better people and better days ahead. And if ever dares to come back and say, "Let's try again", there's no guarantee that I won't lunge forward and slap him. And he still needs to return my stuff. Dammit. And to quote one of my favourite bands,

I'm another ex-girlfriend on your list
But I should have thought of that before we kissed
No Doubt - Ex-girlfriend

Man Overboard

If I ever get to meet God or whichever chief kahuna who runs the earth operations, I'd request for a do-over and ask to be sent back down as a man. Not just any man. I don't want to be sent back as a wee babe of a boy and have to go through the horrors of puberty and learning why there is a rush of blood to a certain appendage on really cold days. I'd like to come back as a grown male between the ages of 32 to 39, preferably single, preferably with a decent job and not living with my mother and preferably pumped full of idiotic testosterone.

The male psyche has always held immense fascination for me. Not because I grew up in a house full of boys. On the contrary, I grew up in a household dominated by females with my dad and brother being the only exceptions and trust me, too much estrogen in a confined space for extended periods of time can be a diabolical thing. If you think one pms-ing female is hard to deal with, try living with 4 pms-ing females aged between 12 and 40 and you'd get a slight inkling of what it was like in my house. Given the extreme female conditions that I grew up in, boys or members of the opposite gender have always been a bit of an enigma. Thankfully I grew up and realized that there wasn't much that was enigmatic about men in general. Most of them, for lack of a better word, are twats. In any case, prior to the time where cynicism became part of life, I used to scratch my head and wonder what made males and females so different. Being the elder of two children, when my brother came along, I used to spend hours staring at him whilst he slept the sleep of the innocent or watch him play or do whatever it was that little baby boys do. Essentially this meant observing him poop, pee, puke, and wail like a banshee whenever he wanted something. I learnt very early on that this creature, my brother (whom I love very dearly even today), was a different species from me. It didn't help that my parents hammered home the point that he was a) not a toy, b) not a girl and c) not to be flung about like my little BMX training bicycle. So at the tender age of 4 I learnt a life-altering lesson. Boys are different.

Before I carry on, I think I need to clarify that I will be using the terms, 'boy', 'bloke', 'men', 'man', 'feller', 'guy', 'cockwit' and quite possibly 'fuckwit' interchangeably throughout this post to refer to the males species. So when I make reference to a 'boy', it does not meant that I specifically refer to a wee lad. What I am actually referring to is basically, that of the male gender.

And so it was that at that young, pure and impressionable age I was exposed and privy to the appalling truth that there existed in this world a species different from myself. What I did not understand or was not told is that there would be no instructions given on how to co-exist in a world with this weird species. Even worse was the fact that though I knew that the male species was appalling different, nobody could explain to me WHY this was so. And so I went out into the world and learnt many a horrific but probably necessary lesson.

I make no excuses for my relationship histories with men. To be fair, I have gone out with what I think is more than my fair share of men. I don't know what the national average is (in any case, all the women will lie in that survey for sure), but I can quite frankly tell you that I have dated and bedded enough guys to have a pretty decent understanding of how most of them work. How many exactly? I can't answer that question not because of any inhibitions but if you want the truth, I can't bloody remember. (Yes, great impressions they made, as you can tell.) If I had to give an estimate, I would say that the number is somewhere in the 20s. Now, I'm not bragging about this but I went through a slew of guys in my early 20s and honestly, a lot of it is a big blur now. Part of me wishes I could remember but there's another part that says that maybe it's better that I don't.

Having done my field research, I tend to categorize men into three groups.

1. Hopeless
2. Semi-hopeless but with potential
3. Hopeful but may drive you to the edge of the cliff as a result of sheer boredom

You know how all those newly-wed women always coo and gush about how fantastic their new husbands are? Well let me tell you that they didn't marry the perfect man. They settled for the one in category no. 3. So don't bloody believe it when they squeal, "Oooh he's just so perfect!" Sorry girls and boys, there ain't no such thing as perfect. You have a higher chance of finding a bra that fits you perfectly than a man. Show me a perfect man and I'll show you that all you really got is a fuck-nosed wanker.

Me, cynical? You've got to be kidding.

Needless to say most of the guys I've dated were hopeless from start to finish. I don't know about other women but you kinda know very early on whether a guy is worth the effort or not. The problem is that women tend to be too nice at times and always want to give the cockwit the benefit of the doubt and a few more chances than really necessary. Ironically, it is because of this very mentality that many women stop dating a guy or get dumped by a guy and then come away and tell their girlfriends in a self-righteous huff that 'He was SUCH a waste of my time.' But surely sweetheart, you must have realized this earlier when he sent you a series of texts after your first date saying you were his soulmate because you both share a great love for penne pasta?

So yes, the hopeless exist. And they exist for good reason. They provide one with the experience required to deal effectively with those that fall under category 2 and particularly category 3.

Yes, men who fall into category 3 exist. They are closest thing you're gonna get to Mr. Perfect by about 3 football pitches off. Why? Again this is not me being cynical for the sake of being a cynic. Throughout my dating history, I can safely say that I have come across a grand total of 2 guys who fall under category 3. One of them I knew at a young age and we had a weird online relationship that spanned several years. He was in no way, mine or a boyfriend per se. What we did have though was a surreal chemistry that kept us very close even though we were miles apart. There was no need to think too hard or compete or impress. The conversations were natural, his personality clicked with mine and we both knew that it was a strange connection to have but we never denied it either. We're still friends today even though he's married to someone else but funnily enough, I don't have a problem with that. :)

The second no. 3-esque feller is my ex-boyfriend. After 6 years of mucking around I finally met someone who, at that point in time, felt worth the effort. To be honest, I was completely skeptical about him in the initial stages but he disarmed me by simply being himself. He was honest, he made an effort and he didn't leave me paranoid and waiting for him to run off with another girl. It took all of 3 months to realize that I had fallen in love with him (and miraculously, he felt the same way too) and we spent 3.5 years together until I came to the point where I discovered that though I very much loved him, I could not be with him because I was no longer as happy and fulfilled as I should have been. Leaving him was one of the hardest decisions I've ever made in all my years. I do ponder that decision from time to time and prod around my emotional landscape to see if there's any regret. Though I am sad at the fact that the relationship ended, I cannot claim to regret my decision because deep down in my heart I think I made the right move.

Damn this is a long post. Had to stop for a pee and a fag. Bugger me for being a prolific writer. Hur. Anyway, where was I?

Oh yes, the semi-hopeless but with potential candidates. Personally, I think a lot of women will encounter this lot quite a fair bit. They're usually charming and seem quite harmless, though the latter part is something that can only be determined with time. The current bloke I am dating falls into this category. Yes, it's the same one that I have mentioned before. I haven't quite made up my mind about him yet and I think that sentiment is mutual.

I must say that there's nothing fundamentally wrong with this one. Or at least I can't seem to find any major flaws as yet apart from the endless procrastinating and rudimentary insensitivity which seems to be rearing its ugly head more often than not. He's a man's man. You know the deal. Bros before hos and all that shit. I can deal with this although sometimes it strains the dating experience. For example, just this afternoon after convincing himself that going out to get lunch to feed his raging hangover would be a good idea, he got a phone call from a friend based overseas whilst walking up the hill back to his place. Now, I think I need to give you a bit of background here. He has/had a nightmare hangover because he was out at an Xmas party for his football club yesterday and stumbled in at 4am. I was not invited to attend this party even though I was informed about it more than a month ago. In fact, I was disallowed from attending this party. Why this is so, I have no idea. I did not bother to ask. When you get to my age, you learn to pick your fucking battles. So he enjoyed the party, came home in the wee hours of the morning, crashed in the bed next to me and stank up the whole room with alcoholic fumes emanating from his drunk body. I did the coffee run in the morning, convinced him to take a shower and we went out for lunch. Friend calls and he has a conversation that lasts about 15 minutes. Post phone call and he tells me that said friend who rang was planning to arrange a group trip with a number of other lads to watch the rugby 7s next year in Las Vegas. I know he got all excited about this over the call because he mentioned to the friend that he would have to go to the states next year and that he would love to take some time off and join in the fun. Well, that's all well and good right? Totally cool? Ha! I fucking wish.

"So my mate is planning this thing to watch the rugby 7s in Vegas next year. I have to go to the States for work anyway and I thought I might make a weekend out of it. Problem is it's in February. And your birthday is in February. Wait, what date is your birthday?"

At that very moment, I wished I was Zeus so that I could call down a mega lightning bolt that would have fried his ass on the sofa.

"I've told you when my birthday is. Several times. The last was yesterday morning." (At this point I stormed out to the balcony to have a cigarette because I didn't trust myself to not grab his head and smash it against the nearest wall.)

One would have thought he would have used the 10 minutes to good use to come up with an apology but when I returned from my fag break, he was sitting on the sofa, Blackberry poised in his hand, "What date is it? You told me February, you never mentioned the date."

For fuck's sake.

You would think if you've been dating someone for 4 months, the least you could do is remember their birthday right? I'm not asking you to marry me. Just remember my bloody birthday! I remembered yours! ARRRRRRRRRGH. And I promise you, I have mentioned my date of birth several times.

I conceded this one. I gave him the date, watched him tap it into his Blackberry (cue more internal growling) and proceeded to ignore him by reading my book. I pointedly chose to ignore him for the next 20 minutes whilst he surfed the football highlights on his laptop. He did not even try to make oblique amends. He just squeezed my knee, stroked my leg absent-mindedly with one hand and then went, "What's wrong?" whenever he asked me something and I gave a curt retort.

Hopeless? Oh yes sir.

Ladies and gentleman, I present to you, the typical category no.2 male. Nothing wrong with him. Seems normal. Stable job, okay personality, slightly weird, got loads of friends, insane interest in testosterone-filled sporting activity, a great kisser and a decent shag. The problem with this sub-species is that though they have many hopeless moments, they tend to counteract their hopelessness with actions that leave you stumped. For example, they send you really sweet text messages out of the blue, or they give you the spare key to the apartment and they are quite happy to spend their weekends with you, doing whatever the hell you want. On the contrary, they do not tell you about their holiday plans (I am IRATE about this because I cannot understand WHY he's still not telling me that he's going to be gone for Xmas and New Year's - what IS he waiting for really?), they do not remember your birthday, they do not refer to you as the 'girlfriend'. Yes, I am still just after 4 months.

All this weird behaviour leaves me bewildered and quite frankly, exhausted. On one side, I desperately want to trust him and allow myself to open myself up to him. On the other hand, all this peek-a-boo situations leave me insecure and half-hearted and to be honest, I feel like I am just waiting for him to say, "Was nice knowing you, goodbye and good luck." Please don't tell me that I need to stop looking at the glass as half empty. I'm not. What I'm saying is that I don't enjoy, don't want to be and really don't need to be mind-fucked.

So you see, I really want to get a do-over as man because I want to understand what the hell is going on in a male brain. I suppose I am prepared to be disappointed because the likelihood of anything noteworthy to be found floating in a man's brain might prove to be near impossible. However, it would still serve me well to get to know the inner mechanics of this weird species.

Plus I'd have the joy of scratching my balls every morning.

Cyber Perving

I'm working from home today. And let me tell you that this requires a tremendous amount of discipline, something I seem to be lacking a lot of this blazing hot Monday.

I was thinking about how much time I spend online as a result of my job. The short answer to that is I spend a solid 6 to 8 hours a day on the web trawling for information, researching, reinventing and of course prying into things that should normally be left alone. Let's face it. The world wide web is a black hole of information. And when you spend three quarters of your professional life trying to seek answers and solutions to your clients' never-ending list of issues, it's only natural that your curiosity spills over and you start digging around for things that don't really concern work at all. It doesn't help that you have social networking sites like Facebook and Twitter that works on the premise of being well, nosy. No one logs into Facebook thinking, "Okay, I'm going to log in and not look at what my friends are up to." Bullshit. We thrive on perving, prying and poking around in our neighbours' backyards all the time. What is the point of status updates and news feeds then? Here's the truth - We want to know.

So having had my lunch and considering the fact that my boss has been relatively silent today, I decided to carry out some cyber-research on Spooner. I've known him for a little less than a month now and we've hung out enough times to know that we like each other's company. I have also over the course of a month managed to find out where he lives, where he works, what he does for a living, got some details about parents, upbringing, past girlfriends, close friends, and gained some insight into his quirks. Good progress? Yes. Alas, it doesn't stop there.

The problem with meeting a new person is this. You have no choice but to take everything they say (and do) to you at face value. Maybe it's just me and my cynical personality that is so inclined to take everything with a pinch of salt. I attribute this to the plain and simple fact that I never trust people easily. I reckon this was a trait that reared its head aggressively after my first serious boyfriend cheated on me repeatedly over three years. The day I walked away from that relationship it felt like someone had ripped my heart out of my chest and I was a complete wreck for a solid six months after. Now, all this happened almost ten years ago and I have gotten over it and I don't want to take an axe to the guy's head anymore. I also know that I have managed to deal with some of it as I have had other semi-serious and some quite serious relationships after. Unfortunately, practice does not make perfect in all scenarios.

My ex and I both have FB accounts. Ironically, during the course of our relationship, we never added each other. Why? I think we didn't see it as necessary because we had been together for that long and it made sense that we could at least have some degree of privacy to our individual selves. Well, that's the politically correct answer. Here's the uncensored version. We didn't add each other on FB because we both has issues with each other's friends. There were people on either party's list that we didn't like and secondly, we didn't want any of our 'friends' blurting out something that the other person wasn't meant to know. And thirdly, we both knew that if we read something posted by someone on each other's wall and we didn't like it, it'd become an issue of contention that would probably lead to a fight. So much for trusting each other eh?

So here's the thing. Spooner over the past couple of weeks has been indirectly dropping hints about us adding each other on FB. The first time he subtly brought up the subject of things like FB and Twitter and asked if I used them. I nonchalantly replied that yes, I do have them and use them but mostly for work reasons. (This IS true.) The second time was on Saturday when we were having drinks before dinner and the topic of ex-partners had come up. I asked him to describe the exes, in terms of physical appearance. His answer, "Well, you can look at it in my FB pics." My reply? Astounding silence.

Sorry, I'm just not ready to take that step. I admit I have tried to search for him online and on FB and have been returned with like 500 people with the same name. There goes that idea. I suppose on his part, he must be pretty open about most things if he is willing to let me into his network. On the other hand, as a friend said, perhaps he just wants to get a proper snoop around my FB page and profile because there's a lot of historical content there and people tend to self-censor a lot in real life. Personally, I am leaning towards the latter explanation.

There is also the other part that freaks me out. He keeps wanting to introduce me to his friends and in turn meet mine. I don't have any qualms about this apart from the fact, that again, I don't trust him enough to want to let him into my circle of friends. My friends, the close few that I have, and my colleagues are my biggest security blankets. I fall back on them every time something fucks up. Letting him get close to these people and allowing him to question, scrutinize and form opinions about them is for me, very personal. He might as well be doing that to me. (I know this works both ways because he in turn, will be questioned, scrutinized and judged too.) But, I'm not ready. I simply don't trust him, yet. Oh and yes, there's also the fact that I am morbidly insecure and am partly waiting for him to give me the flick because my brain says, 'Here's a guy in his thirties, single, no children in the closet, unmarried, with a decent job, a sense of humour and even guess what, he's reasonably good-looking. What is wrong with this picture? And why does he want you in it?'

Paranoid? Yes. Hard on myself? Very much so. This is purely me putting on my full suit of defence. In the event that he turns out to be a royal fuckwit and I give him the boot or vice versa, I would not feel so bad about it because he would not have met my friends and secondly, there would be no embarrassing 'Need to Delete off FB' dilemmas either. So let's see if he sticks around for a few more months and I can bring myself to begrudgingly offer a few more ounces of my trust. Until then, I'm going to stick with just taking things at face value.