Tuesday, 30 March 2010

Normal service now resumed....

She wanted to get some things off her chest. DONE! And now for a catch-up (another one!).

* There were two dates with the friend's friend from work. A no comment would probably be kindest. Though she did discover the utter wonderousness of wasabi peanuts, so that can't be all bad.

* She got the date with the Guardian Soulmates guy. You know Mr Schuester from Glee? Imagine that. Now imagine him as gay, awkward, making inappopriate comments and without the general beauty of Mr Schu's face. He had a phobia of tea and a cat called Mo-Fo. This is not a joke. You may, or may not, be surprised that she had to drink her way through it. Mojitos and red, red wine.

* Finally, FINALLY she figured that Future Husband probably isn't future husband if he has a girlfriend. Subtle clue, but she just about figured it out. He is coming to the birthday party to end all birthday parties in the coming weeks, and she has rather embarassingly sent a few drunken texts (albeit restrained ones. no kisses counts as restrained, right?) but it's probably all okay. Except she is, however, a tad concerned about the fact that on Friday night on a flashing dancefloor, she told FH's uni friend she intended to marry FH. Said friend (who came home with her flatmate, fact fans! wooop!) then sent text to FH. She is worried. Needlessly? We'll see.

* Now for the fun stuff. On said flashing dancefloor, when lovely flatmate was otherwise engaged, after a free shot of Sambucca she started talking to a boy in a red t-shirt. Or he started talking to her, the details are a tad hazy. We shall call him Irish (for that is his name) and we will be a little bit excited that they then had an ace chat on Saturday and that they are going for a wee drinkie on Wednesday night - a pre-weekend to make up for her covering the whole of England for work for the whole of Easter. Actually, and at last, a date she is really looking forward to. Nothing might happen. But you know, it's a possibility, an outside shot, that something just might. Did she mention his accent? Oh, the ACCENT....



Singleness is a strange thing. Its boundaries morph and change, a formless shapeshifting being that can make you feel like you're dancing on a beach one minute and trying to keep afloat in the sea the next. It is terrifying at times, and wonderful for exactly the same reason - because you are, absolutely and completely, forced with figuring out the youness of you. No-one to bolster you or throw out a lifebelt. It takes a little while to remember you do not need it and actually revel in the freedom, the bliss of singleness. There are stages, of course... the utter joy and release, the messiness of the rebound, the fun, the dates, the not-wanting-someone, the not-not-wanting-someone, the wanting someone, the not-actually-caring-eitherway and then this. A kind of contentment. And the realisation that perhaps the person best equipped to save yourself is you - you can swim.