Saturday

I’ve missed you all terribly. I hope you understand that I had more pressing matters than updating dear Blogatha. I’ve been swamped with spending my rent in city centre branches of Eddie Rockets. Going home for my little brothers confirmation and spending the entire week lying drunk on his trampoline. Losing half my anal virginity with a stranger. Going to Babylon, buying a can of coke and sitting in a booth for two hours singing Van Morisson… The list goes on.

When we last conferred, I was still banging on about my broken heart. I could fill several more posts with the rambling tales of my ill fated lust but I will resist. The short version is -

I was understanding once more of his ever changing mind. Then I lost the plot and told him to stop FUCKING WITH MY HEAD! We then maintained a nice friendship for a week or so before we started kissing and hand-jobbing all over the gaf (mmmm… lovely image). Then we had sex. As in coitus. As in penetrative. If my memory serves me correctly, three blissful days of it. Then the proceedings were halted once more. On Christmas Eve. I know. My little face. All upset on Christmas. I was on the bus home with one of my very best friends who unfortunately has been hypnotized by the allure of the continent. Such insightful, profound words of advice he had to offer me on that exquisite voyage through the midlands;

“Ah no. Fuck him.”

I told him to give me some space over the holidays and not to text me everyday. He complied for one day. Disobedience I will not stand for. He spent the season in a drug and alcohol fueled melancholy. If I’m honest his behaviour disgusted me and I refused to see him for several weeks. Due in part to the black misery Christmas seemed to pour over me. I had spent a week at home with my parents and my two brothers. Manipulated into cooking every meal and sleeping on a sponge masquerading as a mattress. If that isn’t a recipe for depression, what dear friends is?!

We had one more romantic encounter. He said I was the most beautiful person he had ever met and that I was amazing and that I glowed beauty. I told him I liked him  more than anyone I’d ever been with. He freaked out.

He tried a few more times. I resisted. Yay for me! I slipped once. You have to understand that I was an insane amount of horny.

“She’d get up on a cracked plate.”

That’s how you might describe the condition…if you were an utter prick. Anyway, I had barely been given the chance to casually imply I might be up for it, when said he didn’t want to anymore and that it was likely he was still in love with his ex girlfriend.

So it’s over. I love him, cause he’s my homey but I’m not in love with him. Honestly. He’s staying with me now, due to the fact that he’s actually homeless (I’ll be joining him shortly I fear) and I feel nothing for him. Nada. Zilch. He’s so kind. He’s extremely witty. He’s amazingly talented. Wonderfully insightful. But I don’t want to fuck him until he bleeds, and that dear friends is the main thing. That said we do sleep in a tight embrace and have done the deed several times. But we won’t speak about that. <Hands over ears LALALALA>.

In other news…

I have gone over to the dark side. The dirty filthy dark side. The side that turns you into a boring sack of dull shit. Where your friends eyes’ start to glaze over when you speak of it. Where you get consumed with measuring and counting and comparing.

DIETING

Worse than dieting.

Lipotrim

For those of you not cool enough to be in the know, Lipotrim is a food replacement diet. Instead of eating food, you don’t. Nothing. At all. And then you drink three shakes a day, or  you can have some chicken soup, which conveniently doesn’t have any chicken in its recipe. Yay! And then you drink four litres of water and settle into a quiet life of loose fitting clothes, razor sharp cheek bones and chronic constipation.

I’ve been on it for two weeks.

On the second night, I dreamt that I was in the backseat of a moving car with my little brother. He’s only twelve. Aaawh! He was eating a bag of Charleville grated cheddar.

“Does this taste funny to you?”

He handed me a piece. Without thinking I put in my mouth. On realising the grave error I had made, I shoved my fingers down my throat trying to induce a good vomit. I then opened the door, hurled myself out of the moving vehicle on to the dusty motorway. The last image I saw before I woke in a state of panic was me on my hands and knees scraping at my tongue trying to coax the bastard back out.

It’ll all be worth it when I’m emaciated.

Man Friend said my face looked gaunt. Well he didn’t but it’s what he meant. He also asked if I have no gag reflex. Sometimes the romance gets too much.

Friday

God I am so lazy. Like proper taking the piss lazy. This kind of lazy. And this kind of lazy. There was one day when I was ripping open a frozen pizza, and I actually took a break and sat on the couch for five minutes. Teamed with this charming new lifestyle, my financial situation is DIRE. I am the human reflection of the Irish economy. I had a bowl of mashed potatoes as a main course one day. Now I wasn’t raised eating foie gras and using hired actors as foot stools but that’s madness. It was like eating a mashed rusk.

I will get a job today.

Delusions aside, I am loved up. That is the good news. How long for? Not too long I would imagine.

When  I left you, Man Friend had confessed his everlasting – can’t live without me – I am his world, love. Ahem…  I am a writer; giving hair and make up to the truth is my job.

What to do?! I might as well admit that I am absolutely besotted, infatuated, limerent with MF. Of course I had to do the initial

“I don’ t think I feel that way about you anymore… I’ve moved on (in the form of energizer rabbit Clunge from graduation, although I didn’t specify how I had moved on.)”

Let me just point out that I am not really this calculated; time has just given me the gift of hindsight. At the time I was trying to resist the star crossed mess I knew it would become.

Rampant protestations dealt with, the vibe that we were going to get it on it the next time we saw each other was in the air. So beautiful. Like blossoms in the breeze… No at that point it was more like – the need to finish a job.

Do you know when you’re canoodling with someone, flirting, giving the dirty eye over a time period? And for whatever reason, you didn’t end up getting your hole? And then you have this overwhelming urgency to FINISH WHAT YOU STARTED. Whether they want to or not! (I’m joking…) Mama didn’t raise no quitter.

I was still being chained to a desk for eight hours a day at this stage. He came over one day after work. I mean it was planned. I gave the sitting room the ol’ once over. Spent about an hour and a half in the shower. Practically burst a vein when I discovered Wife had used the last of my Veet, then proceeded to plan b it with some wax strips I found in my drawer from the late nineties, making a complete mess of the triangle I was trying to maintain and causing myself untoward emotional distress and physical pain. So yea, a casual meeting.

Man Friend doesn’t give a shit. It’s part of his charm. He says that he really cares about what people think but his demeanor would indicate otherwise, which is why I was so surprised when he unzipped his jacket to reveal a big fancy man shirt. Was he actually into this? As much as me?

We went to Teco, bought some treats, kissed in the kitchen, ate some salad, kissed on the couch, watched Misfits, cuddled on the couch, went to bed… the good part is coming… We didn’t have sex.

Once in my Venus Man Trap, sorry, excuse me, I mean bedroom, I started to unbutton his shirt. Not in a “I don’t give a fuck about how much this cost” kind of way, just the top two buttons.

“What are you doing?”

What do you say to that? In a Russian accent,“I am seducing you.”

I just settled for.

“Umm…”

“I feel a bit stupid standing here with my shirt like this.”

We kissed for a while and I cursed my bad judgement for making me remove every stray hair on my body because of a premature assumption.

“Did you want to have sex?”

The clock was ticking and I was conscious of the fact that I had turned into a massively dull bastard and was thinking about getting up for work the next day, so I ruefully said no.

I skipped to work the next day leaving MF sleeping like an angel. Back in the old days, when I had a job and could afford to eat food other than root vegetables, Friday was a half day. I came home and got back into bed. We cuddled and kissed for a while (I looooove him) and then his Dad called him about their lunch date.

He damned the bad timing of it all but then decided since it would only take an hour that I should just come to his house and play with his kitten (the masculinity of it) and wait for him. We snuggled on the couch all day and then he started to get a bit cold and distant so I thought it best to leave him be, he walked me out, and kissed me on the street. I kissed him back and he said,

“Ugh… I’m not big on public displays.”

Choke it down DM.

I walked home and the next day he text me and said he couldn’t handle getting into another relationship and the whole thing, the pressure of it was making him feel shit.