Rough as a Badger's Arse/The Stripper/Too Much Nob for My Liking
Seriously, it has been a frickin week and today I feel worse than I have felt in days. Is it work making me rough as a badger's arse, or is it just that I can't shake this poxy bug yet? I am dosed up on paracetomal as it feels like someone has scratched the inside of my throat and thumped me in my ears. Ugh! I'm not due an acupuncture session until next week and to be honest, I want to manage myself. If I can't last another week without having needles stuck in strange orifices, I should be worried... I had a session last week and she reckons my body is doing a major detox hence my 'flu'. This would explain 2 nights of the most woeful nightmares - It's as if every bad thought, every fear I have ever had, materialised in a series of soap opera type dreams. I'm dreaming in installments and I was petrified of going to sleep yesterday. I felt sorry for the poor boyf who was apparently keeping an eye on me and calming me in my sleep when I got restless. Ugh!
Anyway...I ventured out with the boyf to a birthday celebration on Saturday and found myself confronted with a slab of penis during the evening. Several parties including ours had arranged to have dinner at this club and little did we know that the cover charge included some entertainment. We found ourselves competing with other tables to play Name that Tune and we even found ourselves involved in a dancing contest. I had barely moved for days so I vowed not to use very much energy when our table was called to the stage. We chose a number and next thing you know 'It's Not Unusual' by Tom Jones is blasting through the club and our group is standing on stage looking like rabbits caught in the headlights. Being competitive, somehow the music took over my body and myself and my mate The Don found ourselves doing Carlton-esque moves a la The Fresh Prince, plus the running man and The Don even did the splits. The boyf hid at the back of the stage pissing himself laughing. We lost by 1%!
The cheesy games descended into much pisstaking as we yelled 'Fix! and rejected the massive granny knickers that we were given as a prize for winning one of the Name That Tune rounds. The Don and I cackled away as we took the piss out of the DJ who had 'dressed' up for the evening in a cream woollen cardigan with nothing underneath, striped cheap trousers that looked like pyjamas and were too short, grey sport socks and a pair of battered black loafers with one of the buckles missing. The games came to an end and a burly bouncer demanded that all of the guys move to the back of the room as this was for ladies only. I chose to ignore him and chatted with the boyf and The Don and the bouncer decided to get lippy with me. 'Didn't you hear what I said? Your man don't wanna be seeing this!' he said with his Jamaican accent. 'Why? Are you taking your clothes off?' and the three of us cracked up laughing. 'I meant what I said - get 'em to move' and I decided not to wind him up even further as he look said he could squash me like a fly.
The boyf legged it and The Don and I looked at the over eager women sitting on stage expectantly. Think four black women who'd seen better days, with skewed wigs and weaves, too tight dresses and expectant horny looks. The mother of the group (yes there was a mother) bent her finger and beckoned at The Don and he clung to me frightened. Despite The Don being camper than a field of tents, the mother was sucking her finger in a very suggestive manner at him. We hightailed it to the back of the room and watched as a tall black man that looked a bit like Andy from X Factor (pictured) came out in a crap firemans uniform.
The women went completely nuts and mauled the poor guy immediately. You'd swear they hadn't had a shag in years! The boyf stared at the stage goggle eyed and I watched as the stripper took off his uniform to reveal some sort of weird gimpy, studded cod piece that made him look like he had about 15 inches packed away. I crossed my legs involunatarily and watched as his shoved his bum in their faces and some of them gnawed at his crotch and pants like rabied dogs. 'Oh.My.God' was all our birthday girl and her guests kept saying as we had no idea this was going to happen. The stripper kept removing one gimpy cod piece after another and it became clear that he'd 'layered' up. Eventually, no word of a lie, his dick was waving around in excitement and these rabied women were pouncing on him. I buried my face in the boyf's chest after the stripper stroked himself excitedly on stage. Even The Don who is not averse to a bit of penis was looking away...
The mother of the group on stage straddled his chest as he lay on the ground and even sat on his face! 'I've a good mind to go up to the manager and give him a piece of my mind!' I exclaimed. 'This is outrageous and I feel like puking up my dinner'. The bouncer from earlier walked by and gave me a knowing smirk as he could see I was squirming and I decided that it was likely to fall on death ears. Eventually the trauma ended. I wonder if all that penis triggered my nightmares?
Tired of Men Part Four - Embarrassing Moments
It's after three in the afternoon and I'm typing this post stark bollock naked in the boyf's bed. He is in the sitting room watching his beloved cricket. Go figure...
In an effort to spill even more beans about myself in the run up to the second anniversary, here are few embarrassing moments with some of them involving celebrities. It wasn't may fault that I had the run ins with these 'celebrities' - I was one of a few black people in Dublin so I tended to meet them a lot more. Oh and alcohol was often involved...
1. OK, that time when Shane thought he saw me snogging another bloke outside Bective (where most South Dublin youths frequent in their teens) and I denied it, well I was.... I didn't want to create a fuss and we were kind of on a break...
2. There was that time when my neighbour thought they heard the door go and I told them it was just their imagination, was actually my then boyfriend slipping out the door. He only popped round for a cheeky snog. How was I supposed to know that they'd come back early and relieve me of my babysitting duties?
3. I was pestered for sex by a well known 'rapper' and his beefy entourage. The rapper had sent over one of his minions earlier in the evening and the minion said "[Rapper] requests the pleasure of your company" and I advised him that where I go, my friends go. Eventually he agreed and I had very expensive champagne pushed on me. "I didn't know there were any black people in Dublin!" he said to me as he tried to get me to smoke weed with him which I declined repeatedly. We danced together and he wasn't very good at it. At the end of the night, he and the entourage wanted me to go back to the hotel and after repeated no's I said, "I have no desire to be gang banged thank you very much......" which seem to put a stop to the badgering.
4. I threw up all over Jury's Hotel in Christchurch's reception and disabled toilets after getting drunk in their late bar on champagne and G&T's. We were drinking with a used to be known comedian and passing out in the toilets and returning back to the bar shame faced an hour later was rather embarrassing....
5. I bumped into a now retired premiership footballer in a club in Dublin when I was 20 and he was a good bit older. Our groups ended up drinking together and admittedly I had a cheeky snog at the end of the evening. That's all I left it at though as he proceeded to whisper in my ear in very miniscule detail exactly what he'd like to do to me. I blushed right down to my toes and made a rapid exit! Years later it turned out that the ex fiance claimed to know the footballer and he went into a serious strop when he discovered that we'd had a snog...
6. I dated a baseball player was I was 20. Not being from the US I didn't think it was a big deal, till years later when I mentioned it to a few of my American friends and it turned out that he'd been a pretty big player. I was so naive that I sat in the wives and family box (unbeknownst to me) with all of these women dripping in Gucci with booze on tap and all I kept thinking in my little denim cut-offs and vest was that the seats would have been better up near the action...
7. I went to Cro-bar in Miami which apparently is the club to go to. Once inside I got invited into a private party by this flame haired stunning woman. It turned out to be a producers party and it was $500 a seat, plus my flatmate and I were unknowingly knocking back rose champagne at almost $400 a bottle. The invitee had a boyfriend but she came on to me by the end of the evening and I declined the offer for some girl on girl action...Lesson learned - There is ALWAYS a price!
8. I went to a bar in Fort Lauderdale to watch a friends band. We were sitting their minding our own business when a short, very short haired butch-ish woman came over and asked me out in front of everyone. LOUDLY. My whole face went tomato red as she babbled away about how much she fancied me and everyone stared at me expectantly. I hissed at her to stop embarrassing me and that I don't do women...
Have great weekends. Yay for Bank holidays! Oh and I shall catch up on replying to comments over the weekend! Thanks for all of your well wishes in the comments and by email x
Tired of Men Part 3 - The First Boyfriend
Being sick sucks! The TV is full of dramatic pikeys on talkshows so I have been drifting in and out of sleep to everything that I've recorded on my PVR thingy and watching the Ally McBeal boxset series one. I used to think she was neurotic and funny, but now I just think she's downright crazy. I may switch to CSI for something more hardcore.
Anyway, back to me and men.... (It's taken a few attempts and several naps to write this)
My first proper boyfriend was called Shane and we went out on and off for four years from when I was a 15. I had a string of minor boyfriends before I met him, but it was just silly antics where we would go out for a week or two and then break up. Shane was a beefy, olive skinned, blonde Irish boy with a strong Dublin accent that lived in his red puffa jacket, baggy jeans and Nike Air Max trainers. I met him after I snogged his friend who turned out to be a dickhead and suddenly I noticed him and how attractive he was. Funny enough, this turned into a pattern which lasted well into my twenties. I would go for the attractive, elusive bad boy first, then their lovely friend would be there to 'rescue' me.
Our on/off relationship stemmed from the fact that I had a penchant for finishing it with him and then asking him to get back together when I saw him moving on or I wanted the security feeling. I was the quintessential dog in a manger - I didn't know what I wanted but I damn well didn't want anyone getting their mitts on him whilst I figured it out. I did this to him fourteen times.... Shane was a mixture of nice guy and a bad boy, and left school at 16 making my mum think he was an asshole. Parents in general tend to be very pedantic about education, but Jamaican parents can take the frickin biscuit. I really fancied Shane at first and he was very cool, but far too adoring and inassertive. I ran absolute rings around him and like the lovely guy that he is, he took me back every time. We all hung around in the same group so it was fun and handy but I think I liked the idea of being in a relationship more so than I think I actually wanted him. To be fair, I was young and naive and didn't really know much better!
I just remembered that when his parents decided to move and renovate their house, he lived in an almost trailer (maybe it was a trailer...) in their backyard where we would have parties.
I can't even remember what we would talk about but I do remember that we were on totally different wavelengths. I soaked up books and newspapers like a sponge whereas he used them for propping open doors and wiping up mess, and I was ambitious whereas he wasn't too fussed and just wanted a steady job and had no desire to set the world alight. We were both into dancing though, especially to The Prodigy and we would tear up the dancefloor at the discos each week making us a rather cool couple at the time. I used to dance on stage with the DJ sometimes (who said he fancied me by the way) and Shane threatened to kick the bejaysus out of him every time I danced up there.
I think that was one of the annoying things about him - his temper. It got boring listening to him go on about the latest guy who was interested in me that he needed to kick the sh*t out of, although to be fair, with me finishing it so many times, I can kinda see where the paranoia developed from!
I liked the heady rush of attraction so during our four years together, I had lustful crushes and short relationships with other people en route. I did lose my virginity to Shane eventually at 17, but maybe it was symptomatic of being young and inexperienced but I'd get more enjoyment out of having my neck kissed... Who did I keep leaving him for? A succession of edgy, cool, handsome, bad boy wannabe Mr Unavailable's. Yes I started that early. They were aloof characters who would chase me and then start running hot and cold once they got me, and then I'd jump ship and run straight back to Shane. Thinking back he had the patience of a saint and I was a cow!
We broke up on my 19th birthday. We'd actually been 'broken up' for a while as I had started university and naturally fallen in love a few times within a hot minute, but I bumped into him at the club the night before my birthday and next thing you know, it's morning and I'm in the bed with him. Fearing that I would still be dipping in out of his life for the next God knows how many years and knowing I wasn't being fair, I called him later that day and did the 'It's not you, it's me' speech, and to be fair, even though at the time I said it to finalise things, it was true. We've been finished for almost ten years and I still get dirty looks in the village where I'm from in Dublin as I'm known as 'That one that broke that young one Shane's heart'. If I saw his ma tomorrow, I'd run the opposite direction...
I'm not sure where he is now as he lived in Australia with his now long time girlfriend for a few years. I suspect that he's a lot happier for the absence of me in his life....
When I was single, the 'asshole' morphed into 'the love of your life who you could be settled down with and have a load of babies with by now....' Mothers!
Ooh and congrats to Small Mad Girl who popped yesterday (fortunately it wasn't around me) and had a baby girl over 9 frickin pounds. Ouch! I suspect that she'll be giving the baby making a rest for quite a while....
Tired of Men Part 2 - Brief Intermission Whilst I Puke
Unfortunately I am laid low at home with some bug or something. Not as in a small insect that would have me screaming the place down or almost breaking my neck in the shower, but more like there is a frickin bug going around my office and me with the immune system disease which is finally starting to abate after 4 years has caught it. I have been under the duvet for the past few hours going from hot to cold, want to puke, don't want to puke....plus I keep getting the wobbles...hence this will be a brief one...
I made a complete holy show out of myself by keeling over at the office today and had to be sent home in taxi. I had actually been about to head off home on the Tube because I felt so rough and needed desperately to lie down. I decided to put on a scarf as it looked really cold outside and I kept feeling shivery despite a couple of wool layers on already. MSlash came over to talk to me and suggested that I do what he does if he's at home on his own and not feeling too great - play with myself.... Then he touched my forehead and said that I was clammy and to hurry up and go home. I went to pick up my bag and my whole body went wobbily and next thing you know MSlash is holding me as I head for the floor. Whatever angle I took my funny turn at, MSlash ended up holding onto my right BOOB inadvertently as he came to save me. Jaysus....
It's funny because what with feeling under the weather, being overtired from lack of sleep (I wasn't feeling too great yesterday either), MSlash and I had a row this morning. Or should I say, I had a complete hissy fit and had a right pop at him for being a prima donna...and then he saves me. That's men for you - drive you insane and then swoop in and do a good deed which they'll probably live off for the next year.... I love you Mslash! ;-)
Note to all guys reading this - Saving women by grabbing onto their breast is NOT going to become standard practice and won't be accepted as an excuse if you try to cop a feel....
Must go back to sleep now...
Tired of Men - Part 1
As June fast approaches, it occurs to me that this blog is almost two years old! Jaysus, where the hell does the bleedin time go!? It makes sense with this big anniversary approaching that I take a trip down memory lane to celebrate this period of offloading where I have made many friends and taken the piss out of myself and my bad taste in men, pervy guys in clubs, plus my colleagues, friends, family and the stinking commuters of london. It's also handy because much as I'm sure most of you are pleased that I'm loved up, it's not exactly dramatic, eh?
When I started the blog, I was frustrated after having a dubious date with Mr Nice Guy or PC Plod. For those that don't remember or just haven't bothered there arses to go back that far in the archive, this was a set-up which went bad due to my piss taking. He was the nicest guy on earth and about as interesting as examining stool samples... He had recently graduated from the police academy (Yes I did crack jokes) and there was the horrible moment when things went rapidly downhill because he thought he'd left his phone in the car, faffed around for a bit, went back to get it, reappeared very quickly, only for him to admit that it was actually in his pocket all along. 'Well I wouldn't go hurrying to be a detective!' I wisecracked and it was as if I had slapped him in the face. Needless to say we never saw each other again....
I really was tired of men when I started this blog, ...and don't worry, I still am. A lot of them are assclowns! They can't help themselves! But fortunately there are a lot of good ones out there too...with much of the annoying habits that accompany men but to lesser extents. My interractions with men, whether they're guys I met in the street, at clubs, stores, airports, at work, or dated or was in a relationship with, have been entertaining to say the least. Excluding this blog, I have friends dotted around the world who some of the first things they say are 'So tell me, what mad bastard are you going out with now?' or 'Tell me some funny stories!'
I do wonder if there is a sign on my forehead that screams for strange men to approach me...
My evening with PC Plod was a culmination of confusion about what it was that I wanted and a confirmation that men are an annoying and bewildering species. I'd been broken up with the ex fiance for a year, was besotted with Male Best Friend (MBF) for most of that year albeit secretly, and dating ended up becoming a way of finding myself. In fact, even without dating and just meeting men, I found out more about myself in the past two years than I did in the prior 27.
When I sat down and wrote my first blog post it was deliciously therapeutic as I told my tale of my date in the land of nod. I'd read an article in The Observer a few months before about blogging and for some reason I'd kept it. I woke up in the middle of the night after the date and blogging was stuck in my head for some reason and I found myself rooting out the article, and setting up a blog in a matter of minutes. I had no idea that I would still be blogging almost two years later, particularly since I've always been very sporadic with diary keeping, but I think it's safe to say that there is something addictive about taking the piss out of yourself and your life, and offloading your thoughts.
So for the next week or so, I hope to fill in the gaps and give some insight into what makes up this strange woman who some of you have been following for quite a long time now!
Five things you won't know about me - Boys
1. I think I first fell in love (8) with my next door neighbour Robbie D'Alberto (12) who lived next door to me in Zambia. I wanted to impress him so much, when I was playing kiss chase I ran straight through a forbidden gated area into a swamp which has crocs in it and had to be rescued...oh the shame...
2. I was nice to a geeky boy called Stephen Jenkins at school when I was 6 who looked like Harry Potter and had bladder control issues. I stopped being nice to him when ma and the Bro took the piss out of me...
3. My ma cut my hair very short when I was 12 and these horrid boys called me 'Microphone Head'. I took some delight in rejecting one of them when he asked me out a few years later.
4. I had my first proper snog (13) at the cinema whilst watching Ghost. I actually still cry at the bit where Whoopi lets Patrick Swayze borrow her body for a final farewell. *sniff* The snog wasn't much to write home about...I think he tasted of milk...
5. I still have a list and ratings system of every guy I snogged between 13 and 16 in my diaries. I am alarmed at the number of times I fell in love. I'm also alarmed at our OC'esque/Dawson's Creek life in Dublin where we were 'adults' masquerading as angst filled teenagers....
Bon Voyage, Say What Dentist, All Coupled Up...Again
My goodness! I just realised that this is the first Sunday evening that I've spent at home for about two and a half months! It's weird but rather enjoyable as I'm catching up on some Big Brother, plus I've had my Sunday night date with Jack Bauer. I bade farewell to the boyf at Paddington station earlier where he got the Heathrow Express to get his flight to Israel. He's only going until Thursday, but saying bye to someone like that makes you feel like they're going for much longer. He got us mango and lemon frescato's (crushed ice and fruit) from Costa, which is one of my addictions and I got a snuggle and some kisses (not snogs as that's overkill for randy people that have no respect for other passengers) and we said goodbye. 'Boyf?' I called out as he got back onto the train. He turned back to face me and I think he thought I wanted another kiss or a hug. 'Can I have a sip of your lemon frescato?' I asked and we had a little giggle.
The dentist was a mega pain in the arse where she confirmed that I would now need a root canals and replacement fillings which was effectively £200 down the toilet that I spent on the first fillings. I wasn't prepared for the estimated costs which were....over £800! My head swam at the thought! That's a holiday, several pairs of shoes, a months rent and some bills paid, and basically anything other than putting it in my frigging mouth. I don't even want to think about it...going to the dentist is like getting mugged...
The boyf and I had our little road trip to Brighton, which actually wasn't that far as he lives in South London. We sang along to his ipod and told silly stories which meant the time flew even quicker. The house we stayed in was amazing and just seemed to be full of little rooms and nooks and crannies, making it almost Alice in Wonderland like. This meant that it took about a minute into the tour of the house for me to mash my head on the beam and see stars.... It was the owner of the house (one of the boyfs close friends) birthday and it was another couple's evening. I decided that I wasn't going to get pissed out of my head and break out the MJ moves and actually managed to behave myself for the evening.
It quickly got divided into girls in the sitting room, guys in the kitchen and the boyf pointed out that normally when a few men that don't know each other at all or very well get left alone, there are long periods of silence and idle chit chat about football. The guys were bewildered when they returned and couldn't seem to get a word in edgeways as we chatted away. The divide continued at dinner which meant there was no footsie or secret handholding for the boyf and I. It was a really nice evening where we all had dinner at a Thai place along the sea front and I got to know some more of his friends from 'way back'. We felt like newbies compared to these old hat couples but that doesn't have to be a bad thing. When we got back, it was just the boyf and I, plus the couple that own the house and after a few more drinks, I found myself agreeing to play Trivial Pursuit, which rapidly descending into male bitchy rivalry which actually sent me to sleep.... I left them all to fall asleep under the skylight in the attic room and a couple of hours later, I was woken by the boyf falling into bed, cuddling me and boasting about his Trivial Pursuit win. He started giving a drunken blow by blow account and I nodded off again. Why do men babble on about crap, even when there's a semi-naked woman in the bed beside them?
We left Brighton early this morning (the boyf is an early riser...), did the groceries on the way back and had good intentions to do numerous things today. However...we spent the bulk of the day in bed and only surfaced because we had to head back to my place before he left for the airport. Oh dear...
Big Brother's Back, Old Times, MBF Being an Arse, and Loved Up on My Date
I'm at home watching the freakfest that is Big Brother as it belts down with rain outside. It's nice to be on the sofa with my blankie chilling out and feeling very comforted that despite my penchant for MJ dancing, karoke, bitching about poo and other people's hygiene, my occasional accidental flashes and my general pisstaking, I am a seriously normal person in comparison to the lunatics that will take up a lot of conversation time over the next thirteen weeks. PDot and I will run up whopping phonebills as we text each other every night with entertaining commentary on the show. Last year we got told off for running up big phone bills, especially as he kept me updated on my week away in Egypt. 'Why the f have you run up such a large phonebill?!' the old big boss demanded. 'I should make you pay for this!' he said grumpily. 'Well I couldn't NOT reply to PDot when I was getting the Big Brother updates...' I explained. 'OH! So THAT's why PDot's bill is so bloody high is it?!' he yelled. Oops....
Last night was a trip down memory lane when I went for a few drinks with B and the boys including...Male Best Friend (MBF) which is a rather inaccurate name as we're not close at all...It was strange when we realised that in almost three years of working and boozing together, we've changed a lot. All of us attached and in serious relationships although when I mention babies and weddings to John, B's boyf, his willy which he always goes on about it's humongous proportions, shrivels to walnut size...They're four years younger than me so it's understandable. Mortgages, careers, holidays and relationships get talked about a lot, as opposed to how much wine can we buy before happy hour finishes, anal sex, how big John's willy is, girl on girl kissing and everyone's sex lives. I left them after a couple of hours to meet up with the boyf and his friend and MBF got sulky with me. 'Off to meet this guy then are you?' he said snootily. 'Actually yeah I am' I said with that stupid grin that I can't help doing when the boyf is mentioned. 'Hum. Whatever' he sniped. I think I was supposed to feel bad or something, but I didn't care and after waving farewell to everyone, I practically skipped up the road to meet the boyf.
After a couple of drinks with one of his close friends that I hadn't got round to meeting before, we left him and walked around Soho looking for somewhere to eat and eventually decided on an Indian before he keeled over with hunger. He's such a drama queen! We had a lovely dinner holding hands and making eyes at each other like couples who I've probably stuck my fingers down my throat at when they've done it...It's nice to have our 'dates' and leave each other at the end of the night, even though it's weird when we do leave as we're used to staying over. He's fully clued in about MBF and he knew I was meeting him so there was no subterfuge or uncomfortableness. I told him about MBF's little strop which gave us a giggle and we rambled on as usual about anything and everything. The boyf talks as much as I do plus as soon as he mentions that he wants to tell you a story, it's best to set aside about 10-15 minutes...
Pray for me peeps, I have my appointment with the dentist tomorrow and there may be tears. I doubt they'll be doing the root canal tomorrow though...I'm off to Brighton (down South, posher Blackpool) tomorrow with the boyf for a birthday and then I'll spend Sunday with him before he heads off to Israel for a few days for work. Boo! I won't spend the day sulking though as that would be very naughty! Have fabulous weekends x
Poo-side Conversations
I'm on the phone to the boyf a little while ago and we're chatting away when he announces, 'I've gotta go. I need to use the toilet.' 'Er, OK...' I replied to which he then came back with some wittering about number two's and how his routine had changed and how he wondered if it was his diet. I had to pinch myself and check that I wasn't at work with PDot. Why is it that the men around me are so controlled by their bowels? Why do men keep leaving me to go to for number two's?
'Let me get this right - You're telling me you have to go because you need to go for a poo?!' I said snickering childishly. 'Yeah. Unless you want to speak to me whilst I'm doing it' he said in disbelieving tones and I felt myself clench my bum involuntarily. 'Mmm, yeah...I think I'll pass on that one. I have no desire to listen to you squeeze one out....' and giggled at the RIDICULOUSNESS of the conversation. 'OK, gotta go!' and he was gone.
As I dried my hair a few minutes later, I heard my phone and was surprised that it was him. 'That was quick!' I exclaimed. You have to understand - I work with a guys that base their whole day around their poo routine. PDot purposefully takes the magazine I work for as reading material and sometimes tells me he's gonna wipe his arse with it and every single guy I have ever known makes a production out of pooing.
Although I'm like the Queen and shit roses....OK I may be lying there....when I go to the bathroom, there is no book or magazine in tow. I don't need to take off my clothes, I don't do puzzles. I just do what I need to do and go..like Wash and Go shampoo...
It seems the boyf was preparing himself for his visit - grabbing reading material, making himself comfortable, shedding clothes and I howled with laughter at the whole scenario.
'You needn't think we're gonna be one of those weirdo couples that go for poo's in front of each other! Wee's I can do, close the door and leave me out of it for poos!' I demanded. In between his howls of laughter he told me that he had to go as it was 'time'.
Seriously, I don't understand people that go for number two's in front of their significant other's. That's not intimacy - it's just f*cked up!
Oh and why is it that people who want to have a sneaky fart do it in my vicinity? I was on a Virgin Train coming back from Manchester today and the ticket conductor, who I had seen moving at a relatively slow pace earlier, whizzed by me in trail of egg! This is not what I pay my train fare for!
Out With The Ex, In With The Crackerjack Girlfriend
After I left work today I decided to swing into Marks & Spencer on the way home and as I walked in, my brain homed in on the realisation that the boyf would be meeting the ex for a drink in the next few hours and naturally, me being me, the brain started to play out a scenario in my head. I imagined her declaring her love for him and saying that she knows a lot of time has passed but she wants him to leave me and get back together with her. As my mental camera panned to his face, I felt my heart start to thud and I was practically holding my breath as I tried to imagine if he would declare it back, yet couldn't conjure up the image of him doing that....and then my phone rang...It was the boyf and I couldn't help but smile and felt like a bit of a treacherous dick...I ended up telling him what I had been imagining and he cracked up laughing and we chatted away for a few minutes totally at ease.
I really don't mind him going for a drink with her but it doesn't stop me from feeling a little, teeny, weeny bit away. I've met his ex, albeit a long time ago and I also know that there is absolutely nothing for me to worry about because even though I act like an arse sometimes, I know a bloody good relationship when I see one and I am secure in what I have with him. Let's not forget that I still keep in touch with some of my past dalliances and I know I don't want them in that way. In a similar manner to him, there are a couple that I recognise that we were better as friends and because there was nothing monumental in terms of a fallout with them, it's no skin off my ever shrinking arse for me to have a semblance of friendship with them.
I'm not really good on the jealousy front as boyfriends used to try to make me jealous before and it just couldn't happen. It took a lot for me to be pushed and even then...Thinking about it, it wasn't a good indicator of my relationships. Now, when we talk about The Time Before The Two of Us, there sometimes is that weird, uncontrollable feeling of hating to have missed out on that moment. Likewise, when it comes to exes, I want to take an enormous eraser and scribble them out - mine and his - but I can't and ultimately, it's the past that's put us where we are now and made us both who we are. I felt the feeling of jealousy last week and it took a while for me to able to comprehend the emotion. And hell, there's nothing wrong with that feeling as long as it doesn't take hold!
He told me to call him if I want to whilst he's out. 'I'm not a friggin Glenn Close you know!' I said huffily. 'I KNOW!' he exclaimed. 'I wouldn't think that if you did decide that you wanted to call me though' and much as I believed him I replied, 'Er, you know full well that much as I may be crazy in the MJ dancing department, I am NOT a hysterical bunny boiler!'
And as we said goodbye, 'Enjoy...but not too much...oh and make sure you don't stay out too late...oh my God you'd better not stay out late!' I squealed. 'NML! It's one drink!' and we chuckled away at my dramatic farewell.
I've got used to feeling exceptionally good and enjoying my relationship instead of thinking that any minute now, the relationship will disappear into the jaws of relationship death. I haven't felt so much as a flicker of anything bad with him and consider that we talk the ears off each other and are honest and open, that's a mighty feat. Who would have thought that with my chronic bad taste in men that I would finally cut myself a break?
So I'm going to behave myself and not be a diva on this occasion and throw all of my toys out of the pram. Unfortunately the same can't be said for my annoyance with that sorry excuse of a dentist of mine - yes, brace yourselves, NML is off to the death chamber - the dentist. Same teeth that had the fillings done only it's being suggested since the right side of my mouth is in pain that what I actually needed is a root canal. A ROOT F*CKING CANAL? I swear I wanted to tear my dentist a new bumhole when he told me this on the phone this morning and got a bit stroppy with him. Pray for me - you know I'm a wuss when it comes to pain!
Coupled Up, The Return of Mr Persistent, MJ Dancing, Porn and Meet The Parents
Saturday was the first time I have done something really couplely since I got together with the boyf. We went for a FA cup get together with dinner and drinks at his brothers flat and one of the couples included the now married Mr Persistent. For those that don't know, the boyf and I have actually been in a number of the same places over the last three years due to him being from the same crowd as MB and he even has a pic of me from a party that we all attended almost three years ago. Mr Persistent was at this particular party and it was a rather funny 'reunion' as he had pursued me relentlessly a few months before and I had to eventually tell him to beat it rather rudely as he wasn't taking the hint. I had forgotten all about him until he 'pounced'...
He homed in on me when he saw me at the party and showered me with pure doo doo as he laid out logs of chat up lines. It was now a few months since I had broken up with Mr Brown Suit (The Ex Fiance) so when he begged and pleaded for us to go out for dinner, I got a lot of 'Go on NML. It won't kill you to go on a date' from everyone and I foolishly agreed. On the date he talked about having kids, getting married and moving to Trinidad with me within an hour and I had to beg him to stop talking shit. At the end of the night, despite no indicators from me that I was interested, he grabbed me in a vice like bear hug with his big frame and shoved his tongue down my throat. Not only did he vacuum out my tonsils, but his tongue went down so far, I'm surprised he didn't hit vagina...
The boyf and a hell of a lot of their crowd know about the now legendary date and little did I know that I would end up being loved up with one of Mr Persistent's acquaintances... When he walked in with his wife, I supressed a giggle as the boyf winked at me and we exchanged hello's and they finished introductions with some of the unknowns. It took a few moments and he eventually walked towards me and said, 'I'm sorry, but we haven't been properly introduced' and I swear it was all I could do not to laugh as the boyf caught my eye. 'Mr Persistent, it's NML. MB's friend.....' and he actually stumbled over himself and went a bit 'pale' and looked at his wife with a petrified face.
It's hard to say whether he really did forget me, after all we haven't seen each other for the best part of 3 years, or whether he was just trying to style it out. Needless to say, I got a lot of sneaky giggles out of it.
I got inadvertently drunk on Saturday night and somehow I was encouraged to do Michael Jackson dancing even though at that particular point in the evening, there were only 6 of us...One of the guys is a big MJ fan but he got stage fright when he realised that he had competition and he has decided that I am a handful and that I am crazy. He refused to challenge me on the dancing despite his girlfriend practically begging him to, but we did have a 'hee hee' contest and admittedly he won. Mr Persistent drunkenly tried to serenade his wife with dancing and we were cheering him along, but she still refused to budge from her seat. We also taunted the guys about porn and it was revealed that Mrs Persistent had thrown out all of his porn after they got married. Seeing my opportunity to stir things, I said, 'Well don't forget that he has his stash that you've thrown out....and the secret stash!' Drunkenly he agreed and all the guys laughed but I have a feeling that it may have been sub zero temperatures in his bed that night!
I have to say, even though I am anti-overdoing-the-couple-thing, I did have a really good evening. I knew everyone a little bar Mrs Persistent and the boyf and I really enjoyed ourselves. We are both quite extrovert though so we have to give each other turns on the stage! I suffered for it all day yesterday and we stayed in bed till early evening and then dragged ourselves out to meet some friends for drinks. I had a few sips of wine and stayed with soft drinks as I don't have the stamina that I used to. I had to leave the bro's leaving do at 9pm on Friday I was so hungover!
Oh and it's been booked-The boyf and I are off to Dublin in June with M and MB, which means that he'll be meeting my mum. I've already met his mum, who I'm getting on really well with and now it's his turn to get put in the hot seat. With my crackerjack family, it is bound to be one hell of an entertaining weekend. It will also be my last time in the family home before it's sold. Boo!
Oh and you have to check out the funniest clip! Guy Kewney, a columnist for the company I work for was supposed to be interviewed re the Apple verdict by the BBC a few days ago, and they mistakenly interviewed a taxi driver instead. What ensues has to be the funniest case of blagging I have ever come across and the incident has been talked about on radio and in the newspapers and everyone I know has been watching the clip! Hee hee!
Drunken Antics, Ex marks the spot
For the second time in less than a week I have a hangover, only this time I've had to suffer it out in hell with florescent lighting…work. I went out for Shi and Small Mad Girl's pregnancy farewells and the evening rapidly descended into an evening of piss taking brutality.
There were so many funny moments...Tina Turner said she hated me after PDot said that he was thinking about starting a gym for over 50s and I suggested that she join…We're friends again now. MSlash telling the new guy that normally Tina wears growler grazers for dresses…Interrogating a female colleague that we like to insinuate that she and my boss are a couple…Me playing to MSlash's ego and telling him that the new guy was smarter, way funnier and better looking than him and him pretending that he wasn't bothered…PDot and MSlash coming out in identikit outfits of white t-shirts against pale milky skin with blue jeans and white trainers looking like the odd couple…Me having to walk between them on the way to the bar to break up the 'coupled' look….Me asking a complete stranger at the ATM whether he thought MSlash and PDot were straight or gay and him saying that they were metrosexual for fear they'd kick the shit out of him…PDot being convinced that everyone in Soho was staring at them because of course everyone was interested in the latest odd couple…not..
I left there and met up with the boyf for what I thought would be an hour or so having drinks with his mates and ended up not falling into bed till almost 2am. We tore up the dancefloor together and eventually I agreed to stop asking the DJ for Michael Jackson…
In my drunken haze (I'm a cheap date these days as it only takes a few glasses of wine to have me off my face), the boyf told me that his ex that he'd broken up with a couple of years ago, who he still keeps in touch with from time to time, had asked to meet up for a drink. He told me because we said that we wouldn't do stupid stuff like be secretive and create mountains out of molehills, but for a few moments I felt a bit queer (as in odd…) and the alcohol didn't help. Silly as it sounds, it's like having someone who doesn't belong step onto your island of bliss, albeit temporarily
I don't think that there is anything untoward about it and I know a lot of people who are friends with people that they've broken up with a long time ago. I really don't have a problem with him meeting her and I stressed this to him, but I did say that just because we are comfortable in our relationship and we're open and honest, doesn't mean I'll always break out the champagne with every revelation. However, the last thing I want to do is make him feel that he can't be honest with me.
I looked at him as he looked at me expectantly, and I felt like a bit of a cow as it occurred to me that I'm in no position to talk…Sometimes we have to look a little closer to home and he has never had even a flicker of negativity about Male Best Friend who works two floors above me…or Dot Dot Dot Man or anyone else for that matter which is more than any guy I have ever dated or been in a relationship has done. I don't have any reason to be uncomfortable but I am a stroppy cow however fortunately I value my relationship with him a hell of a lot more and I'm getting wise to myself. It was forgotten about moments later and there were a few cheeky snogs when his mates weren't looking and a few more when they probably were looking….It's nice to be loved up!
I'm out for the bro's leaving do this evening and I'll see the boyf for a bit. I have some blog reading to catch up with over the weekend. Enjoy!
Bums, Giggles and that Childbirth Phobia Again
I am flopped on the sofa at home and willing Wednesday to turn into the longest weekend ever. As usual it's one of those weeks at work and today didn't start well when I ascended the escalator at Oxford Circus in a humoungous cloud of putrid fart. I mean seriously, what the hell is wrong with people in London? Don't they eat decent food? Don't they have any manners? I have got trains in several different countries and I don't recall ever having to put up with so much bum stench!
I got to work and got to throw my arms around PDot who I missed dearly whilst he was on his ten day holiday. It was like no time had passed as we descended into talking in silly voices (I often think we sound like South Park characters) and PDot was back in his toilet routine, albeit two hours late due to jet lag.... Tensions are relatively high as we have a horrid deadline this week and it's been a tough call between murdering each other or taking the piss, and Tina Turner got it for most of the afternoon as we ripped the piss out of her potential miniscule outfit that we think she'll wear to a gathering tomorrow evening. When MSlash sent a pic of a roll of clingfilm I thought I'd puke with laughter.
There are only two more days of work and then I'm home free in terms of the two pregnant girls Small Mad Girl and Shi giving birth at the office. Every time anything birth related gets mentioned, I feel my stomach lurch at the thought. I have found myself eyeing the floor for mysterious pools of water and I even found myself lamenting my childbirth fear to the boyf who was cracking up laughing. Men can be so simplistic sometimes - I explained that I feared pushing something the size of a basketball for example out of something the size of a lemon. Now I appreciate that it's a crap analogy as babies aren't shaped like balls, but the boyf cracks up laughing and says, 'Honey, the heads aren't that big.'
I definitely want to have kids one day but I am so scared of the pain that I will endure in childbirth. Actually and I'm also afraid of ending up with a fanny like a clown's pocket but that's a whole other issue.... Some of my friends have been in labour for TWO or THREE DAYS! Merciful hour! The type of thing I have in mind if they don't develop a zapper that sucks the baby out without leaving any mess (I reckon the makers of Star Trek could invent this), is going into labour, being given lots of stuff to get rid of the pain and then the baby only takes a few hours (I'm thinking three max) to come out. I know with my luck that I'll be huffing and puffing and saying every curse word ever invented for some woeful amount of time. I also refuse to give birth on all fours because ever since I watched this woman give birth on all fours in this programme called Real Births a few years back, which caused me to throw up afterwards, I've decided that it's a very undignified way to give birth...Is there a dignified way?
It took a few minutes to register that the boyf and I were having a rather entertaining conversation about childbirth and I smiled to myself that he doesn't get all weirded out by having strange discussions with his crackerjack girlfriend. I admire his patience as between my fears of white tights and white shoes on black people at weddings, childbirth, large wide American roads that expect you to cross them without proper light guidance, daddy long legs that appear when I'm in the shower and almost cause me to break my neck, unexpected bones especially fish bones, plus a penchant for Michael Jackson dancing just because it's funny, and my bitching about other people's hygiene, he has his work cut out for him.
Speaking of hygiene, who do you think had to sit beside a man on the way home that smelt like wee, aftershave and BO all at once? Who do you think got trapped on the telephone for over 20 minutes with a client, just as she was about to go for a desperate wee, finally got off the phone after near collapsing with the agony from her bladder only to get the toilet cubicle, choke on the fumes, turn in a panic, bump her head off the door and nearly wet herself in startled pain? Yes, yes...it was me...
Wedding Antics and Hungover like a Mofo
'When I get married, nobody, and I mean, NOBODY, is allowed to wear white tights and white shoes!' I said to the boyf and clutched his arm as a parade of white tights and shoes and a few dodgy weaves went by. 'OK NML. I'll make a note of that....' he replied through his giggles.
It dates back to when the bro and I were little and my Aunty Jean used to take us to the gospel church to ensure that we got a weekly dose of God. Unfortunately she would bring us right into the throng and the poor bro and I would be nearly shitting a brick when the singing really got underway as it would feel like an earthquake and we were afraid we'd get crushed to death in a sea of big black women. I remember looking up and seeing big hats with fruit and flowers on them, bad weaves, and legs clad in white tights and shoes and often they were baking bread - when the ankles are so big, the skin comes over the side of the shoe....
Oh and that is a headless me in my outfit. The wedding was a little reminiscent of that scene in Coming to America when Eddie Murphy is sung to by one of his attendants before they bring out his prospective bride. There were over 500 people there and I watched in fascination as traditional music, drums and all, reverberated through the reception as hordes of people crowded around the couple and they did a very long walk to their seats where they proceeded to watch the entertainment. 'Oh my God, it's like being a stripper!' I giggled to the boyf as people pushed money in the bosom of her dress. Dollars I noticed...and on the current exchange rate...a good choice...
The entertainment consisted of these two people dressed in these almost devil like costumes with Chinese-ish type masks who did a tribal like dance that saw my eyes watering from the male dancers enormous thrusting gyrations. There was so much dick in the room at the moment, I averted my eyes. Then I watched as a trio of young women in fancy bikini tops and tiny skirts danced up a storm with their father MCing at the same time. I have never seen anything like it!
The boyf and I had a really time and somehow I managed to last the whole evening in my killer heels AND we managed to have a good dance together, even though I could feel a lot of eyes on us. Funny moment was when only the boyf and I were dancing away on the dancefloor when the music changed from traditional African music to Madonna's Holiday and Got to Have a J.O.B which the boyf knew all the words to! I know he'll be getting a lot of calls about me today as people are dead nosey. I had a nice time with his mother and his brother and his girlfriend arrived later in the evening so we made a nice group.
I spent Saturday hung over to the teeth after my night out with the bro and could barely eat for the first few hours. I made the mistake of going for an eyebrow wax and I had to ask her to stop as I thought I was going to puke. I left there feeling shaky and thought I would make an attempt to buy new hair straighteners, but standing in the store, I felt so hot and hungry, I thought my menopause had arrived early. I decided to go to Marks and Spencer and buy a a load of food for lunch to eat away my hungoverness, only for a load of pigeons to appear and cause me to panic, ducking and diving for fear of the vermin coming near me. I resisted the urge to throw up all over Marks and Spencer and did my best not to crawl home. As I approached my flat, a guy ran past me in sagging jeans and they fell down around his ankles as his flat arse obviously couldn't hold them up. Finally I got to have a big, dirty giggle...
Drunkenness, The Bro, The Boyd and Er....Poo
It is safe to say as I write this that I am under the influence of alcohol. My whole body feels like I'm wired to an electric socket and I think my blood has been replaced by alcohol. After traipsing around the Billion Dollar Babe sale with my friend from Dublin of eighteen years where I nearly murdered her and then left her in a strop and got into a taxi to meet the Bro, I arrived at the restaurant on the Kings Road over an hour late, and the Bro was pissed out of his face after being there for two hours and promptly threw a drunken tantrum when I arrived. On top of that he had been speaking to my mum in my absence and when I got on the phone, she told me off for being late and causing the Bro to get pissed out of his face as he read the paper in the sunshine. Feeling royally f*cked off after my strop, my bollocking from the Bro and then my ma, I very curtly told her I had to go and hung up.
For the next thirty minutes the Bro repeated himself over and over again as he slagged off my mate and cursed everything and everyone for having to occupy himself and drink more than a bottle of wine on an empty stomach. He finally relaxed and we had dinner outside and we both proceeded to get drunk - I get pissed on air practically and he sucks up alcohol within touching distance. I was so drunk when we left, I forgot the clothes that I had bought and I had to go back whilst the Bro stood there cackling with drunken laughter.
We set the world to rights, talked about life, love, exes (or in his case 'shags'), our nutty parents and careers. My bro hasn't had a proper girlfriend since he broke up with my mate when he was 17 after she got off with another friend. Instead he has shagged around and come up with a multitude of excuses for losing interest rapidly with women. I have repeatedly told him not to shag his female friends. 'I fool around' he stated emphatically. 'Is that sex?' I demanded. 'Well so what if it is!? Oh is fooling around foreplay? OK, I haven't been fooling around. I've been f*cking!' and I ducked my head in embarassment and prayed that no-one heard him.
I'm going to a wedding tomorrow evening, albeit only the afters. It will be me and the boyf, plus his brother and his girlfriend. Before the boyf and I went out for dinner last night, I tried on dresses and skirts with him as I got into a panic about what to wear. It's an African wedding and the last thing I want is a fashion faux pas. I'm wearing my killer pointed heels which have a flower pattern, a white skirt, and a black top and jacket which ties around my waist. I swear I will photograph the outfit and post it!
We went for dinner in this rather trendy pub near my flat and tried not to behave like lovesick teenagers. He's on jury service this week so he had to head home afterwards which is unusual as we normally stay over with each other. He brought me home and we snuggled up for a while, sometimes quiet, sometimes talking and totally relaxed. I was gutted when he left and I have to admit that it's almost 10 days since I slept in my own bed on my own and when I haven't stayed with him, I've slept on the sofa. I found out last night that he's been doing the same thing....
Oh my gosh. I am absolutely choking with laughter. Big Momma's House has just started and it's the scene where she goes for a great big bubble gut induced poo whilst Martin Lawrence's character is hidden in the shower. I am approaching 29 fast, yet poo, when it's not in my home or at work cracks me up. I didn't laugh however when MSlash started asking Small Mad Girl if she pooed herself when giving birth to the first 2 kids. My whole head swam and I thought I was going to throw up at my desk! My phobia of childbirth has increased....
Have fabulous weekends peeps x
Frickin Telewest Man and Challenging My Brain With Childbirth
I'm chatting away to the boyf last night on the phone and we're discussing 24 and I decide to flick to TV Drive which enables me to record up to 80 hours of my favourite TV programmes. Since I had my beloved PVR installed, I have recorded 24, Everybody Hates Chris, The Apprentice, Dream Team and Columbo... The whole fricking thing is BLANK, EMPTY and I had to cover the mouthpiece as I used a flurry of expletives to call the Telewest service guy every frickin name under the sun. What has happened is a perfect illustration of why men annoy the shit out of me.
I have two digital TV boxes and the PVR is in the sitting room and the old, boring box is in the bedroom. The bedroom one went bonkers last week so I had to get the guy to come out and service it. He fixed it within 20 mins of arriving and promptly cocked up the signal on the PVR, and then spent the next hour fannying around in bewilderment as he waffled to Telewest. Now this is where I get mad - I specifically said 'You won't do anything that will wipe the contents of the box will you?' and I even put my hands on my hips when I said it. 'No, no, don't worry' and the stupid feckin fool has only gone and REFORMATTED my PVR and erased the contents. AND he didn't have the brass balls to tell me. AND he had BO. AND he had bad breath. AND he smelt like stale cooking.
Why is it that men cannot admit when they have done something wrong or just admit they don't know? It's that same mentality that has them struggling with maps and giving directions to people when they haven't a clue! This guy could barely distinguish between his arse and his elbow and it took him a while to absorb that only one box was faulty yet he'd managed to mess up the perfectly working one. He even implied that I had something to do with it and I had to grit my teeth and restrain myself from telling him off as I just wanted the bloody thing fixed!
Fortunately Telewest are actually extremely good customer service wise and have compensated me with a tenner for that man's incompetence. Or was it because they couldn't cope with the crazy black woman lamenting not being able to watch Jack Bauer solve the world's problems.....
My brain may need some sort of new challenge as I'm a danger to myself when I have time to think too much or it doesn't get challenged enough. I have been daydreaming about being a private investigator, a CSI (albeit one who never has to actually be up close with a dead body), a politician that doesn't shag around (they only exist in our imaginations) and I even tried to imagine myself giving birth one day.
It's not because I am broody (I swear!) but because there are two pregnant women on the team who are due in the next few weeks. I'm petrified that one of them (or even more frighteningly both of them) will go into labour and between eight of us, we have no birthing plan. Tina Turner is the first aider (Lord bless us and save us) and I think she has a wad of paper towels and she'll have to get hot water from the tea machine. She's only learnt mouth to mouth resucitation (surprise, surprise) so I don't know how she intends to use that skill should a baby decide to arrive early but I won't be looking...The boss and the boys have already said that they'll just make a run for it. Interesting that when there's a real task at hand not one of them will be seen for dust... I'm dead curious about the impending births but I also find myself involuntarily clenching...I tried to imagine myself as mental conditioning would be a good thing to start now and I still keep seeing a doctor with a zapper and the baby miraculously appearing with no pain, mess or stitches...I don't think I live in reality...
Snoopy Snoopers
Being so happy has made me wonder where the drama will come from for this blog. I doubt that readers want to read about me being in blissdom all the time and I'm not going to behave like an asshole and create drama with him to 'create' content. I thought that my lovelife was going to remain a pantomime full of assclowns and instead I've gone and got loved up. Being a man, he's bound to cock up at some point but for now, unless I throw one of my hormonal wobblers or go through a case of the fear where I make up things in my head about how things can go tits up (yes brain power can be sucked up with this type of activity), he and I are a drama free zone.
It wouldn't be a drama free zone if I snooped though! I had no idea that people are such snoopers! Shame on you all! Hand on heart, it's never even occurred to me to have a snoop around the boyf's flat. I don't think I'm that way inclined plus I do trust him. I would like to think that if he was left alone in my flat that he wouldn't feel compelled to snoop although all he's gonna find is that I'm rubbish at filing away bills, I have far too many pairs of shoes, too many knickers, a rabbit vibrator, the Richard Blackwood CD (oh the shame), and some diaries from the teenage years which lists all the boys I snogged at the contests when we used to compete and even some second base stuff... He would also discover the mound of hidden laundry in the corner of my sitting room which has some unironed clothes from over 2 years ago in it...
Ever since I 'snooped' on Sister Mary and tried to try out the set of keys I'd found on her bedroom door when I was 15 and got caught, snooping has seemed rather unattractive. All of the others ran from the scene of the crime and I ran half heartedly for a few steps and then decided that considering that I was the only black person in the school, running was a waste of energy that I felt I'd better save for running from my mum's ass whupping....
I also went through my parents wardrobe when I was 8 and discovered that the bro and I, amongst our numerous toys, were getting the Billy Ocean and The Best Of the Jackson 5 LP's. It took a while to enjoy it without a grimace as my bum had to feel the wrath of my mum for spoiling 'Santa'...
I don't think that there is anything to be gained by snooping other than a pain in the arse....
I know lots of women that have snooped on their boyfriends and I just don't get it. If you have to snoop, isn't something wrong? Or is it just natural curiosity? I don't even know what I would be looking for if I did go snooping. I know what his ex looks like (I think we've actually met a few times) and I don't think he's into women's underwear so I think I'd only find my own. Why would I put myself through creating the drama? I appreciate that sometimes people snoop because it's just their way of getting to find out more about the person but I think there's better ways to do this. Him leaving me alone in his flat shows that he trusts me so I should extend the same courtesy to him.
But it did get me to thinking: If I did snoop on some of my EX's, what would I have found? Now of course this is all hypothetical but I reckon if I had done some digging, I would have found a few phone numbers and text messages from another woman in the phone of the ex fiance. Maybe some porn with pics of women posing with cricket bats? Hee hee! Or with the ex I call Bee Gee (we went out when I was 21-23) because of his 70s dancing, cheesy lines and dodgy sex innuendos, I reckon I would have found some gay porn if I'd had a snoop around his flat, ticket stubs for a 70s swingers party...or maybe his mothers underwear and some apron strings....or maybe a butt plug...
Now there was a certain acquaintance that snooped on this blog looking for specific information and bit off more than they could chew when they discovered that I'd taken the piss out of the wine they'd given me as it was rather, cough, cough, budget wine....Their feathers were more than a little ruffled at this discovery but whilst I feel a teensy bit bad for taking the piss, they got more than they bargained for. So, now I throw it open to the floor - Does anybody have any questions they'd like to ask me? Put your questions in the comments box and let's see what I have to say. Oh and I'm dying to know, has anyone snooped and found out something scandalous? Better for me to live through other people's drama vicariously...
Blissfully Content and More Behind The F*ckwit
I am tucked up on the sofa at the boyf's flat secretly hoping that my cramps will bugger off soon. Bank holiday weekends can be so perfect until Aunt Flo decides to come to town...It's been a really good weekend where we've actually behaved ourselves and taken it in turns to cook dinner the past couple of nights and I have to say that my first glass of wine was glorious. It went straight to my head though and I had a bit of a hangover when I woke up yesterday. We had an extra long lie in and surfaced at 3.30pm when we forced ourselves to go grocery shopping. We spent last night with one of his best mates who entertained me with his sarcasm and wit about his love life. I was crying with laughter as he regaled me with a tale about an ex-girlfriend (nurse) who was so paranoid about his boys holiday that on his return he woke up to find her trying to ram a needle in his arm so that she could do a test for HIV! Hilarious!
I'm alone in his flat as he's playing golf for a few hours and I've resisted the urge to start over-tidying and organising his stuff. I was making dinner last night and found myself surreptitiously tidying his cupboard and throwing out stuff that had passed its use by date. He loves it (I'll bet he does!) but I don't want to be one of those girlfriends who takes over the whole place and scares the sh*t out of the guy....
As for The F*ckwit, who I told a little bedtime story about in my last post, I feel I should emphasise that crack or his family had nothing to do with us not working out as I dated him after the first date when he told me. I also dated him despite a woeful case of BO. Quite frankly, he's HOT but clothes can disguise a fool until he opens his mouth and aside from the fact that the relationship was long distance, his pontificating and trying to turn something as simple as a fart into an intellectual discussion, plus his sheer arrogance which extended to dictating to me how I manage my disease were his downfall. I admire how much he has persevered and triumphed despite his start in life, but I won't be beholden to anyone because they're a doctor and I don't want to debate race constantly and compare how many posh black people I know either. I certainly don't want to listen to his obsessive talk about how black women either don't believe he's a doctor or only want him because he's a doctor, despite the fact that the fact that he's a doctor is one of the first things that comes out of his mouth. He was obsessed with 'ghetto' culture and I think he would have preferred if I was down and out with a couple of kids as he could have coped with me more. Most importantly, I won't be told what to do, be, feel or think by ANYONE.
Anyway, back to my main man, I am so blissfully content it's ridiculous! I didn't think it was possible to be so happy and have a drama free relationship to boot. Scary as it is to say it, neither one us have anything negative to report. I tried to think of something yesterday as we lay in bed waffling the ears off each other with jazz playing in the background, and I couldn't think of anything. Neither could he and we laughed at ourselves. It's not because he's perfect - he's not - and that's a good thing. We don't have any fatal flaws though and there are no red flags yet, and on top of that, we've been open and honest about our pasts so there are no unpleasant surprises. I have NEVER been able to be open and honest with a guy without having to welcome possessiveness and the green-eyed monster into the relationship. I'm behaving myself and not allowing the whole Where Is The Drama? Oh Well I'll Create Some syndrome to take hold. There is that temptation when things are going so good and there is an absence of drama to wonder if you're normal, but then a voice pops into my head loud and clear and says 'STOP BEING A DICK NML!'
It's funny as we're both quite similar so we say that we're cautious when we're so clearly not. Last night on the way home, he told me he'd acknowledged how much he felt for me when he was away last week and realised how gutted he would be if we ended. 'God the thought of that made me feel sick!' I exclaimed. 'You're so DRAMATIC!' he wisecracked and we burst into giggles. I feel the same way though which is scary but I told him that we're in this together so we'll be alright. Cheesy moment extraordinaire!
Jeez, I had no idea that people were so wee shy! For those who want to know how I could go for a second wee so quickly, it's because I had a twenty minute wait, I drink about 1.5 litres of water a day and my bladder has never been the same since I had 2 kidney infections 6 years ago. I don't get performance shy.... ;-)
