Archive | December, 2013

It’s not just kissing that’s back on the menu

15 Dec

Right then, the X Factor final is on. It’s well and truly Christmas.

I know I owe you all an update on Friday night’s date. But I feel a little awkward about it. I really like this guy. It feels like a bit of a betrayal to write about our time together.

So here’s what you really need to know:

We kissed. It was great.

I didn’t get home til after 3am.

Cocktails. Cocktails.

No awkward silences.

And we ate.



14 Dec


Date number two

13 Dec

OK, buddies. Date two with B tonight.

I’ll be honest: I really want a snog out of this. Even if it all leads to nothing, I miss kissing. I miss intimacy. I want to snog his face.

We’re going to play ping pong at a cocktail bar that has a bunch of ping pong tables. I’m already worried that (being about as co-ordinated as a moose) I will fall over/hit myself on the head with a ping pong paddle/cause him some kind of unexpected injury.

This week has been crazy busy with Christmas parties and get togethers and lunches and ugh. I have put on 4 lbs since Monday and look like a bloated alcoholic. So I’m tired, but I’m excited.

In an email the other day B said that I was, “Probably the most stylish person I know these days.” This is the closest that he has come to actually flirting with me. Well, I tell you what, he could not have flattered me more. I’m very keen on my fashions.

Years ago I went out with a guy at work (the Secret Work Boyfriend), who looked me up and down one day and said, “That’s not fashion.” I was devastated. Not only did he seem to be going off my personality and face with alarming speed, he was now insulting my clothes.

I’m dressed to impress today in wool shorts with tights, and a Topshop blouse with a gold elephant collar.

You’d snog me, right?

People who have kids

12 Dec

When people go on and on and on about how difficult it is having kids, I want to punch them in the face.

Fair enough, I get that you have perhaps had only two hours’ sleep in the past six years, but consider the following:

  1. You decided to have these children.
  2. You are fortunate to have them.
  3. Your Facebook statuses are boring me.

I particularly hate when people say, “Oh, you’re so lucky. You have no idea what it’s like!”

You’re right. I don’t. Because I go home every night to an empty flat, eat cereal for dinner, and watch MTV for company. Yes, I have more disposable income and I get a lot more sleep than you. But I would trade it all for what you have. In a heartbeat.

Don’t moan to me about having a happy family.

You sound like an asshole.

I thought about you last night

11 Dec

I thought about you last night.

I didn’t think of the hurt, or the pain, or why this happened. As I was walking home in the dark with my breath making clouds in the cold, I just thought how nice it would be to be going home to you. To a cuddle. And your smell. Peanutbutter on toast. And climbing into bed together, feeling safe and warm and happy. 

It still hurts my heart to think of you.

Maybe you’re doing all those things with someone else now. Maybe you miss me. Maybe you don’t. Maybe you think of me sometimes, but know that you made the right decision. Maybe you know you made a mistake, but you’re too proud to say. 

You made me the happiest that I’ve ever been.

You made me the saddest that I’ve ever been. 

You made me excited to be alive.

You made me think it would be easier to be dead.

The memories turn to regrets. But the pain doesn’t go anywhere. The humiliation burns just as fiercely. The heartache echoes around my entire body.

I wish this was over.

I thought about you last night.   

Being a Grinch (sorry)

10 Dec

Christmas is a funny time. Every year of my entire life I have spent Christmas with my family, and stayed at my parents’ house (although there have been years we spent Christmas Day at my Aunt’s, or my sister’s). Which is very nice for me, really. I realise there are a lot of people that don’t have family to be with, or who can’t be with their family due to distance or circumstances.

But I’m 31.

I still feel like when I get on the train from London, it’s as if I’m a 19-year-old student coming home from university for the holidays, or a school kid finishing up for Christmas break. I’m a grown up. And yet I feel like an overgrown kid.

I just wish that I had someone to share it all with. My Mum and Dad have each other, my sister has her husband and her kids. And then there’s me.

When my sister was 31 she was married. When my Mum was 31 she was married with a kid.

We’re spending Christmas Day at my sister’s house this year. My nephews. My sister and brother-in-law. My Mum and Dad. My sister’s in-laws. And me. Singular.

Believe me, I know I’m a lucky cat and I feel very guilty for feeling the way I do.

But I feel empty.

One more sleep

9 Dec

I’m not really a Leona Lewis fan. She has always struck me as looking too much like a camel. But, I’ve been listening to her new Christmas song ‘One More Sleep’ pretty much non-stop this morning.

Fabulous Christmas pop.

It’s very Mariah-esque.

And the words. Ahh, the words. A girl in love singing to the one she loves, who is going to be with her for Christmas. She’s counting down the sleeps.

I’ll admit it: I was this girl. When my ex did his first stint working in New York for four weeks, I counted down the sleeps until he was back. And I used to say on the occasional email (not every email I hasten to add), “Oohhh, nine more sleeps”, or “Two more sleeps ‘til I can snog your face.”

When I reached the point of one more sleep, I was beyond excited. I baked him his favourite cupcakes. I planned to leave work early the next day. I hardly slept, I was so excited to see him again.

It turned out to be one of the most depressing and hurtful weekends of my entire life. I went into work on the Monday morning and collapsed on one of my colleagues in tears. Ever the professional.

He came home. He ate the cupcakes. But he didn’t seem to want me around. He even gave me a lecture about how, “We are just two people who are going out. We aren’t married.” Let me tell you, he was the one always talking about marriage and babies and moving in. Not me. Him.

He said I got too excited about him coming home. He seemed particularly offended that I had counted the sleeps.

I asked him if he’d prefer that I didn’t give a sh** that he was home. If he’d rather have a girlfriend who was cold and thoughtless and didn’t make red velvet cupcakes that taste like drops of heaven.

Apparently he would.

Trying to be happy for everyone else

8 Dec

Last night was fun. Always good to catch up with friends from university. We laughed a lot. I had just a couple of moments when I really struggled to hold it together.

All three of the friends I was with have got married this year. One of them is pregnant. The other two will follow soon, I’m sure.

So, it’s inevitable that there’s a lot of wedding and baby chat. I don’t mind. It’s not boring. None of them turned into bridezillas. I’m genuinely happy for them.

But it does seem unfair. Especially when I thought I had finally met my person. When I thought everything was falling into place for me. At last.

And when they ask me about work, because they don’t know what else to ask me about, I can’t help but feel the lump in my throat. I talk a little too much about not knowing whether I want to stay in marketing. I sound a little too scattered when I mention travelling, or going freelance, or trying something new. I look a little too sad when I laugh about how I have nobody to look after but myself.

What I mean is that I have nobody to look after me. That I’m searching for something – anything – to make me happy. And my future scares me because I really don’t want to go through it alone.

Last night we were also talking about parties. I said if I’m still not married when I turn 40 I’m going to throw myself a massive party. We discussed how I should get a completely over-the-top dress, and hold it at a fancy hotel, and have a gift list in Topshop. It sounded fantastic.

Then I went to the bathroom, and cried.

A little pick me up in Pret

7 Dec

I’m off on my travels again. Not Florida. Not Boston. No, no, this time it’s exotic Preston, in the north of England.

It’s my friend’s post-wedding party. Her wedding was back in September. Today is a time for reflection, really, because while she’s been settling into married life, I’ve been trying to stop crying long enough to get through an entire episode of Friends, forcing myself out of bed in the morning, and generally being Disaster Girl.

This is not how my life was supposed to be.

But isn’t it wonderful how the world has this entire cast of crazy characters who can pop into your daily life at just the right moment? Yes, of course I am a lucky cat to have such incredible friends and blogger buddies, but I mean those people who enter your life for just a moment or two, with the power to change it significantly.

I got to Euston station early so I could grab a coffee before my train. I’m actually a tad (or more) hungover from last night, so I also needed juice and fruit. First stop: Pret.

I was served by a frustrating Spanish girl who couldn’t understand anything I said. I didn’t think, “BLACK AMERICANO,” was that complicated an order. In fact, I would wager she could have taken one look at my tired, tired face and guessed exactly what I was asking for.

Her colleague behind the counter, a cheerful and ridiculously handsome dude who must have been at least ten years younger than me suddenly shouted, “Oh my God! Amazing! Your coat matches your eyes.”

I smiled and agreed. I was wearing my favourite blue coat. And I was thinking, this dude is gay.

But he kept going, “You are beautiful!”

Again, I smiled. I said thank you. Paid for my coffee that had finally showed up. And as I turned to leave he shouted one last time, “Have a great day, beautiful girl!”

I’m not going to lie. It felt amazing.

Get out of my dreams

6 Dec

I went to bed last night (having not cried all day – yay me!), thinking that I might just be starting to feel a little better. I might just be getting closer to the light at the end of the tunnel. I might just be starting to make my peace with this heartbreak.

After all, B has been texting a lot (I worry too much). My counsellor is really helping me to make sense of everything. I don’t feel like such a Grinch about Christmas. And I’m so busy, I have a lot less time to just sit and cry.

And then I went to sleep.

And dreamt about him.

Here’s what went down: 

I was getting into a taxi somewhere in Florida, and ended up at a hotel in India (as you do). At the hotel, my ex had booked us a room that was, in fact, situated right in the middle of the lobby. He was there. And he wanted me to go and travel around the world with him. His Dad was on the phone asking if we were back together, then his Mum. He said he had read my blog and thought it was amazing. He had everything planned: I should quit my job, he would pay for everything, we’d travel and end up in Japan where we’d spend months exploring. (We were supposed to be going to Japan next year.) We’d get back to London and I could freelance while he went back to his job. Life would be just as we planned it. Just as I wanted it.

And I said, “Yes”.