Ok ok...

After muchos requests I am now going to blog (belatedly) about my date last Friday with English Guy.

It went really well. We got on very well I think. He seems like a NORMAL PERSON - shock, horror. He gave me a kiss on the cheek (which is all I would allow; I'm a lady) and I went home with underwear on and reputation in tact.

He said he'd call me "mid-week". He then texted me when he got home and said he'd call me "mid-week".

Now, tell me if I'm mistaken, but is Wednesday not 'mid-week'? Yes - I think it is. And what day is it today? Oh! It's Thursday! So, has he called?

No.

Could it be that my first date with a normal, non-deformed, non-socially-stunted man whom I actually like turns out to reject ME?

Why Bazza - I believe this may bruise your ego...

Can't Shop, Won't Shop

I went shopping yesterday, and nothing fit. It was awful, but not my fault. It's the damned shops that change their sizing all the time. So whereas before, Jeans West shirts only fit me in a size 10, now even their size 12 is too small and won't button up over my boobs (which haven't grown). Fuckers.

And then I went shopping today and tried on about 12 pairs of Sass & Bide jeans, then finally found a pair that I liked and needed a slightly different size. Did they have it? No. So I tried on a few items of designer couture which were highly discounted for the sales - but they were all ugly.

I don't understand why it is that the first weekend I've had money to burn, in a very long time, I am apparently physically incapable of purchasing anything.

I even tried to go and spend money in my favourite place in the world - Borders bookstore. Could I find anything? NO. Now that was the sign - if I can't find a BOOK that I want to buy then there's seriously something wrong with me. So I went home.

And now I'm cooking a chicken - cos that tastes and looks good no matter what.

Back To Pink

Yesterday I bought some new nail polish. It's darker than what i usually wear. It's pink. And I don't like it.

It all comes down to how it makes me feel. And every time I see my hands I feel like a 40 year old woman who's hiding her wrinkles underneath a truck load of make up. You know the type - old hag, mutton dressed as lamb. I shall be taking it off before my date tonight.

Date? Tonight? How exciting!!

I know - I'm fairly excited. On a scale of 1-10 I'd say I'm about a 7. This is unusual for me, and I think it's purely due to the fact that he's English. You see, I haven't had much luck with Aussie guys, so I'm thinking if I go back to English it might work.

You never know.

Gingivitis

I've got another date this Friday. This time it's with an English man. Hopefully an English GENTLEman. I figure that I haven't had any luck with Australian men, so maybe that's where I've been going wrong?

Plus - this one supports Liverpool, whom we all know are the best team in the Premier League. Also, we're going for a curry, which is very much in my comfort zone. I won't be challenging him to a Phal eating competition just yet - don't wanna frighten the poor boy off - but I will feel a lot more relaxed in such a setting.

I've been told to give the previous guy (small appetite man) a second chance, but I don't like him. What's the point of second chancing someone if you just don't like them?

In the meantime, my hopes are high (but not too high) and I'm feeling more positive (but am retaining a small amount of pessimism) about the whole thing. Reckon we might be onto a winner.

But of course, I can't rule out the fact that he might be ginger. That's a big cause for concern.

Deathly Inclinations.

I had a dream last night that I was sick. And the woman in the pharmacy that I went to, to buy cold and flu tablets, wouldn't believe me that the signature on my credit card was the same as the one I signed, so she wouldn't give me the tablets.

So I killed her.

Aaaand I woke up and went to the gym and now I feel like I'm getting sick. But I will not be going to the pharmacy to get cold and flu tablets because I don't think I can risk the possibility that I will kill the pharmacy woman. So I'm drinking hot water with lemon juice, honey and cloves. It's pretty gross. And my feet are cold.

The good news is that my date on Friday wasn't completely horrific. It wasn't very good, but it also wasn't verging on tragedy and it didn't make me want to drown myself in a bathtub of gin. Needless to say, I won't be seeing him again - but it was very comforting to learn the next day that he wanted to see me again. I really don't understand it though - he showed absolutely no interest in anything I had to say, didn't ask me a single question and only let me get a starter because he has a small appetite. Meh.

At least I didn't kill him.

Foggy

Things are a little foggy here in Brisneyland today... the situation is having some kind of effect on my eyesight too. I've got a foggy blob in front of my right eye. It won't go away. But it's making things a little more interesting.

I won $3000 yesterday! A competition at work - I got the best revenue achievement or something last month. So hooray! My upcoming holiday in Sydney will be a corker.

I keep coming out with random english-like statements. Must be the fog.

Date tonight - I shall report tomorrow on how tragic/non-tragic it is. If anything, it's a free meal - that is, IF he pays. I'd piss myself if he didn't pay cos I've got fuck all money to pay for it. I'd do a runner for sure. I wonder if running away from dates will be something I'm renowned for one day...? At least tonight I'll be able to disappear into the fog like a 19th century villain... if only I had a trench coat.

Emptiness

So, my brain seems to have gone into a state of 'I really don't give a fuck anymore' with this dating thing. I am so disillusioned with it all that I'm pretty much just accepting dates left, right and centre, with no real thought as to who the person is, what they want or where they're likely to take me. You know why? Because things just can't possibly get worse.

Think about it - I've had 3 horrific dates in the last however long. The last one was on such a level of horrific that I'm still not quite recovered from the fit of laughter/shock that it caused. So, I know that a date can't be worse than that.

In an attempt to improve my hit rate, I'm going to go on a date this Friday with a man who appears to be northern european. He likes Devon Rex cats and his name is Christian, so I'm thinking he can't be too bad. There are also 2 others who seem relatively normal, so I might just test them out too. I don't care if I'm not going into it with the right attitude - my heart has literally had enough; it can't take any more emotions and it can't be fucked to get excited about anything. So I'll go, and treat the dates like a job interview, and see if any of them are good enough to be shortlisted.

Odd

I think I'm sick of apologising for my nature - for my natural way of being. My mum described the situation to me this morning - she said: "Bazza, ordinarily people are able to see that somebody is different; they can see the fact that they've only got one leg or that they're blind. But with you, you look relatively normal. Nobody can see that you're actually different."

She's right. So as long as I surround myself with people who appreciate the fact that I'm different, then I'll be fine. The problem arises when I befriend people who think I'm abnormal and will change one day, and that I need to change. My message is clear:

I am different. I think weirdly. I do things and say things that are not usually socially acceptable. I need people to be tolerant of this. Equally, I need to learn to be tolerant of the fact that some people can't, and won't, grasp my difference and will always see me as a little 'broken'.

State-ment.

I have decided that it's not right to make decisions when you have PMT. So, I will hold off from making my unknown and unidentified decision until after this weekend.

Speaking of this weekend, I am turdally looking forward to it. I'm gonna do some gardening, cleaning and cooking. I'm gonna go markets and get some proper nice fruit and veg and stuff, and I'm gonna spend a nice amount of time with my MUMMY. I am feeling the need to be mothered and made a fuss of.

Hey so I'm also hating my job at the moment - again. It's providing the money now, due to my months of hard work, but even that doesn't take away from the fact that it's a shithole company and a fucked up working environment. How does one carry on? I'm going to make a statement here which I shall stick to. If I'm still in this job at the end of December, I will immediately quit and find another job.

?

When is the best time in a woman's cycle to be making decisions? Or rather, when is the best time to NOT make decisions.

Also, how much should one rely on one's mother to make the decisions? Or if a mother figure asserts her opinion on some matter, should you just take it and run like the wind, or should you take it on board and delay departure until after adequate thought?

Clearly I need to just go with my instinct, and forget what my mum said and assess the situation for what it truly is. And my gut says to take that idea and run with it - RUN LIKE THE WIND!!

Woo hooo!!!!!!

P.S. No - I will not be telling you what my idea is, so sorry. It's mine - ALL MINE. Kind of.

One Word: Wanker

Some of you may already be aware that my date on Friday night went rather badly. I am now laughing about it, especially given the fact that he decided to email me requesting an explanation for walking out on him in the cinema. I will now copy said emails into this post. Firstly, he sent me this:

I just wanted to know what it was that inspired you to walk out on me? If you didn't dig me as a person or my 'advances', you probably should have just said so to my face, it would have been much more considerate and far less hurtful than just abandoning a fellow human being. Kinda painful.

And then I responded with this:

- I told you that I was not that kind of girl, twice.
- I told you that I was not looking for a 'quick shag' - twice.
- You responded with "well it's a fine time to choose to be that girl" - offensive.
- You seem to have some kind of thing for shagging in public places, which is fine, when you haven't just met the person.
- When I told you I wasn't that kind of girl, you said "well all the others are" - perhaps you've only got experience with 15 year old girls...?
- I told you that the cinema was "not the right place" for your advances. You responded by pulling me on top of you.
- I explained that I was looking for a relationship, not just a quick fuck, and you said "I'm not looking for a quick fuck" and then started sulking, folded your arms, and watched the movie.

In short, your immature advances reminded me of a teenage boy who hadn't quite grasped the true meaning of sex and was looking for it WHEREVER he could smell it. You made me feel violated as your advances didn't stop when I said no, and when I explained to you that I didn't want to sleep with ANYBODY on the first date, you shunned me like some kind of frigid bitch.

In conclusion, and in response to your email, what inspired me to walk out on you? The above points. I thought you were a nice guy, until your advances proved that you were only after one thing and couldn't quite believe that I wasn't willing to give you what you wanted. I DID tell you to your face, on numerous occasions, all of which you ignored. This puts you pretty firmly in the class of boys who don't know when no means no. Additionally, do you know what would have been 'considerate and far less hurtful'? If you'd have treated me like a lady, and if you'd have acted like a man instead of a horny teenager with no manners. So as to my actions being 'kinda painful', I don't apologise. I'm glad it was painful and I can only hope that MY actions lead you to assess YOUR actions and possibly change your outlook on life, women and sex in general. And maybe, just maybe, you could grow the fuck up and learn to have a wank before you go on a date so you don't end up practically coming over the unlucky girl you're with.

Don't email me back, I'm blocking your email address - I only like to communicate with people who act their age.