PS

She maybe should have added this to the above post. A little fact that maybe, just maybe, changes everything. It's the fact that, unbeknownst to her, Uni Boy has had a girlfriend all along. Not, she doesn't think, at the time they got together last year, but kind of more recently. Only now, he doesn't. And he's asking if they're going to watch that film, because he needs "cheering up". Think am going to need a little help on this one. Advice, lovely people please!

The Consolations of Autumn

She's shamelessly stolen that title from a fabulous Radio 4 programme she listened to last night by the way - iplayer it if you still can! It was on Something Understood the other night, is all about the passage of seasons and time, watching leaves fall and making way for new shoots.

That's something that's been on her mind of late. She's kind of got a bit sick of the whole Bridget Jones thing (complete with lack of journalistic skills that saw her confusing the 'on' and 'off' buttons on the video camera. And she once spat on the Prime Minister by mistake. Bridget would be SO proud).

She took herself off the My Single Friend site, after deciding that rejection on multiple counts was really a bit more than her slightly bruised ego could cope with. She read an article in the Observer which basically said hey! It's okay to have a bit of man-free time, it's just a drought! JUST a drought, she thought? Well, phew, thank goodness for that. Could have been worse, they could have called it a famine I suppose.

Weddings are, of course, times of loveliness and happiness for people whose drought days are long gone. The wedding of lovely friend K was beautiful, and she cried. K looked absolutely stunning and had this wonderful smiley glow about her the whole day which was amazing to behold. Okay, she wasn't uberly impressed with the Bible reading which basically read as follows: "If you're single, you get cold in bed. If you're a couple, you're all toasty and warm. If you're a couple, someone will pick you up when you fall over. If you're single, everyone will point and laugh as you scrabble to pick yourself up from the pavement. Ha ha." She much preferred the Edward Monkton reading about dinosaurs, which was a really nice touch.

And as she heard the groom's speech, she was overwhelmed with happiness for her friend, and struck with what massive luck it is that two people destined to be with each other, find each other. I never know how that happens. But K and C have definitely struck lucky.

She was too busy dancing to find any eligible men - but as she pointed out over her seventh glass of red wine: "They're all gay, married or too young" which was actually the case at the Birmingham Botanical Gardens that night. But hey, she still had dancing partners a-plenty, and she got to see a bride mime the actions to a certain verse of Whenever, Wherever by Shakira. Which was a special moment.

Of the best man? Well, he was a lovely guy but the bride was too busy to do any matchmaking in the end. But actually that was kind of cool. And the DJ friend of her flatmate? He was over on Sunday night for a dinner party that turned into an all afternoon and evening drinking session... ouch! Again, he's really nice but.... she doesn't know what follows the 'but' actually. Maybe the but is that she doesn't feel, after all, that she has to be with someone, anyone. There's no hurry. Seasons have a strange way of changing things, and breathing fresh air into your life. Bring on the Autumn months, and kicking up the leaves.

Flames - old and new

Today, she missed her ex. Why? Because she remembered how they used to write notes to each other in shorthand (yeah yeah, it's geeky. But it was also kind of cool).
Then, she got her mysinglefriend profile approved and found on the site a man who, without a word of a lie, is the most beautiful man she has ever seen in her life. Literally. If this was a Tom and Jerry cartoon, her pupils would have turned heart-shaped and her heart would be thudding out of her chest.
Even if he doesn't reply, or worse, turns out to be a troll in real life, it was a nice feeling while it lasted!
She's still a little unsure about going down the whole internet dating thing and would kind of like to meet someone a little more organically. Maybe, perhaps, the DJ friend of her wondrous new housemate, who she seems intent on setting her up with... Options. It's all about options.

A moan

Or rather, several.
1) It seems all the men at E's bday party in Putney last night, lovely as they all were, are gay.
2) If they're not gay, they're taken. Ms H was presumably meaning to be encouraging when she said this week after making a yummy veggie risotto for them both: "But it's okay - we get them on the second round". So, full of heartbreak and loathing, and encumbered with so much emotional baggage they've got back-ache? Marvellous.
3) Many men are, essentially, crap. Case in point. At lovely Ms E's hen do last weekend, which was much fun incidentally, one felt the need to point out another member of the party and tell her: "That girl is the most beautiful thing I have seen in my life. She blows my mind,". Well, thank you. Thank you very much.
4) Look, if you're a guy sitting on the tube, and you're a bit bulky, DO NOT barge your elbows all over the place, especially not into the face of the girl sat next to you. Being sandwiched between two sweaty men is not the dream situation.
5) When a girl has made herself look lovely, is wearing tartan tights, smoky eyes and generally feeling good about herself, do not under any circumstances (even if you are a pissed-up 17-year-old) shout out: "You're f***ing ugly, love". Okay, it was either "ugly" or "lovely", she can't tell as she had her iPod playing Ben Folds rather loudly. But in her current state of mind, she's adamant it was the former.
6) Her horoscopes are telling her to forget about dire lack of action and instead focus on work, new studies or creative projects. Brilliant. So she'll end up not only as a spinster, but one who is a dab hand at crocheting, and possibly, astrophysics.

Of weddings

Oof, well the hangover mist has just about settled from last weekend's antics to condemn them to print. Please bear in mind, this happened after she'd had no sleep on the flight back from DC (and look, you CAN be sympathetic and ignore the fact she was in a bed on a plane. A fact she is still marvelling over). Then she had to go straight back to work that day, then to the London office the following two days, then to the wedding reception of a friend.
What perhaps set the tone was that when she and gorgeous work colleague (and her boyfriend) arrived in the Surrey park in a taxi, they literally stumbled out into the middle of a fight. A big old fist-fight, evidently involving the wedding guests, with F and C bombs being dropped all over the place. Deary me.
They then met up with former work colleague boy - who had decided to drink his way through the day, having been invited to the main event without knowing a single other person. He could barely speak, but managed to furnish them with a bottle of red wine and some cheese, which was about all that was left from the buffet.
She decided, spurred on by the wine, to tell gorgeous colleague and drunk boy about her little work crush. On the smiley boy with the deliciously dark red hair. She was a tad reluctant to do so, and said: "Well, I don't want to give his name. You're going to tell me he has some fantastic long term girlfriend/wife etc etc. And I don't want to know!". This was met with a sympathetic smile, and a: "It's not Bill is it?" (look, he's not called Bill. But he LOOKS like a Bill. And yes, dear readers, it was Bill).
She felt crestfallen and must have looked it, as GC immediately rushed in with an: "Oh my God, are you okay? Here, have some Stilton. And wine. Drink the wine."
It wasn't so much that it was Bill himself, just the fact that here was another crush that was an absolute dead end. There seem to be a fair few too many of those of late.
When he was otherwise engaged (errr... trying to deactivate yet another fight), GC turned to her and whispered: "What about drunk boy? Not tonight, obviously. But still..."
This planted the seed in her head, and she decided a dance wouldn't hurt. She'd always had a feeling they may end up having a little kiss at some point, after all.
She could ignore the fact he was grinding his hips, back to back, against the groom's mother's best friend, who may well have been in the Golden Girls. She couldn't ignore Robbie Williams' Angels when it came on however, which she simply cannot be in the same room as.
Going outside, she happened upon a table of people laughing and smoking, and recognising one of them from work, joined them, hoping for a drunken cigarette. This is the point at which she took two (large) drags of the one offered to her, before realising it wasn't a normal cigarette, by any stretch of the imagination. Oooooops.
Things started going ever-so-slightly blurry at this point. But she had a real gem of a moment, so much so that if any scriptwriters of Bridget Jones 3 are reading this, they're welcome to have it for free (or perhaps, in payment, she could have a little grope of Colin Firth? Thanks).
Then drunk boy and her were dancing. So far so good. She asked if he needed to share a taxi back with her and GC at which point he grinned, and slurred: "Noooo. I'm gunna home with YOU" - and stumbled, plunging to the floor like a sack of potatoes encased in concrete, falling perfectly under a table, leaving only his feet sticking out.
Seeing he wasn't actually dead, she decided leaving the scene with her wine-splashed dress was the only answer. By the time she had regained her composure and returned, it was last song time. And drunk boy was living up to his name.
Cut to outside, and taxis are being lined up. She is having to grab onto him because he (please bear in mind he's built like a rugby player) is stumbling to the floor. Cue argument with taxi driver who insists drunk boy should be going to hospital instead. She uses her best persuasion skills to get him inside, and immediately goes into her best Florence Nightingale mode.
Only thing is, Florence probably didn't rub the back of her patients' heads. Allow said head to rest on her shoulder. Allow the lips on the said head to then kiss her. Literally, from half-dead to being in mid-snog in the space of three minutes.
God knows what GC and boyfriend thought (their reactions, she seems to remember, consisted of jaws hitting floors). They managed, eventually, to get drunk boy home, and he was saved from having to climb through a window by a housemate.
In a way, she wishes this weren't the end of the story. In her (drunken) wisdom, she decided sending him a text that night to inform him of their little cab romance was wise, and to take him up on the dinner he promised her in the middle of the last dance.
But, do you know what? Nothing. Okay, he sent a text apology, saying he feared he'd made a fool of himself at the wedding. But he later told GC he had no recollection of the night at all.
As has been pointed out to her, this was hardly likely to be the beginning of a beautiful romance, was it? It would have been nice to have been asked for that dinner though.
In the spirit of new starts and not giving up, she's now signed up to mysinglefriend.com, thanks to Ms E's helpful nudging and wondrous description of her (she wasn't bribed, honest). She'd kind of given up on the whole web dating thing, but hey! Let's see how it goes. It can't get any worse... can it???