Yeah, OK, OK, anyone who knows me can probably guess the reason for my sluggishness to write. Stupid, stupid XY chromosomes and stupid, stupid me for being stupid enough to be optimistic.
Let's recap. My last serious relationship, i.e. where both parties were happy to call the other their 'boyfriend' or 'girlfriend', ended in August 2008. My first date after that weighed approx. 28 stone. The next one kissed me on date one and then vanished. The next one kissed me on dates one and two, said he really liked me and then said he wasn't looking for a relationship. The next one dumped me before he'd even met me, by vanishing on the day of our proposed date. I wasn't so much stood up as sat up, in that I didn't even need to leave my sofa to find out that he wouldn't be there. Then I started regularly seeing a guy whose commitment-phobe tendencies were so glaring as to make it stupid of me to even kiss him in the first place, so unlikely was I to convince him to commit. After three months or so, we called it quits. Then I didn't date because I was sad. Then I met the Glastocrush, but let's be fair, that was never going to last. And it didn't. Then I went on the ridiculous date with the guy from Clapham, just to appease my mother that at least I was trying to be open minded. Then there was the date with the Lying Dutchman, the guy whose fictitious ex-girlfriend kept updating his profile, and others so boring that they didn't deserve an anecdote. Early this year, I met another commitment-phobe, which kept me mental until late March. Then there was the weird German, the guy who designed weapons and the penis guy, all in one week, the guy who kissed me in May and sent me a text afterwards saying "Next time, let's...", inferring (I think you'll agree) that there would be another date, and who then vanished. And the magician, who also did a Houdini. And the posh guy who I went to a pub quiz with, who never texted again. And the education journalist who said he'd love to see me again and then disappeared. And the beautiful teetotaller when neither of us felt any chemistry. And the lovely OCD picnic maker. And now this guy, who asked me out for a third date by text message on Sunday night and hasn't been heard from since.
And, you know, it's fine, and I'm fun and gorgeous, but god it's hard to keep perky. I don't think I know anyone who's been knocked back as many times as I have. I feel like the world's shittest boxer. ANYWAY. What was amazing was the incredible massage I had on Monday, given by this adorable and amazingly powerful Japanese guy, and the giggles I got when I turned over and my boob popped out from under the towel and both of us tried to cover it up. When I say 'popped', it was probably more 'flopped' but this isn't the time for negative body images. Got to run.
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