BORED.

On 29 May 2015 at 01:13…

As I lie in bed, watching Ghost, smoking, I realised something. Someone New isn’t the next chapter in my life. He’s barely a passing glimpse. I’m over it. He bores me. There’s no real substance to him. And every time I think he grows himself a backbone, he lets me down by saying something so adorable, I could almost vomit.

He’s a control freak and a hopeless romantic. How does that work?

The sex was good last night, but it wasn’t good enough to keep me for a second night. It’s not enough to keep me running back for more, time and time again. The problem is there is no problem. How are you meant to break up with someone when there’s actually nothing wrong? Because he’s done nothing wrong. I just don’t think we clicked.

He’s just not Jock.

He was manly and forceful, fucking me every which way I could want to have been fucked. There was the quickie on the couch, skirt pushed up to my thighs, cute white lace panties urgently pushed to one side. Those cute white lace panties were slowly and gently pushed inside me later on that night. He slowly and playfully pulled them out of me, inch by torturous inch, bringing me to a dangerously hard orgasm with his powerful tongue at the same time. Add those vibrating nipple clamps I told you about before, and you have a gushing recipe for success. Oooops.

He’s good at what he does and I’m pretty sure that’s what keeps me running back for more. When I’m in his presence, I just want him to be naked, and if we’re not naked, I’m bored. I was bored. We went for cocktails and I was bored. Thankfully dinner distracted us. But then we got back to his and I was bored. I kept willing him to slide his hands down the front of those little cute white lace panties and do that clever thing he does with his fingers, but he didn’t. He did give me a quick taster of what I’d be getting later by licking me through my underwear on his knees in the kitchen though. I would have done anything he wanted right there and then. But he stopped. And we went to watch TV, bored once again.

At times, he surprises me with lust, passion and a little something new, and I’m sure he’s OK for just now. Then other times, I can’t believe he’s managed to get through life this long with such a small personality. He has the potential to be a much more… Impressive person? I don’t know? It’s like he has all this bang on the outside, riding bikes and wearing leathers, being all dangerous. On the inside though, it’s not all that exciting. Or maybe I’m still just not giving him enough of a chance?

BORED.
Jock was exciting.

Just saying.

Just a Few Things I Wanted to Say.

21/05/2015

“I need to talk to someone. I need to talk to you. I don’t know why, but I have the overwhelming urge to pick up the phone, dial your number (even though I no longer know it), and just say hi. But I can’t do that. So I’m going to write it down. I’ll probably post it on the blog.

Tomorrow is my last day at work. I finally quit, like you always said I should. It’s funny because I’ve kept things so quiet, not even making it clear on social media what was going on. That would normally be the first thing I’d shout about. I’m quitting my job to be a full time writer. That’s pretty big-time stuff, right?

I wish I could pick up the phone and tell you. I wish I could reveal my newest big adventure. I might not be globe-trotting any more, making my way from one side of the world to the other, but I’m still having an adventure each and every day. That’s what I love about life. Just when you think it’s all over, when things are going to slow down and you’re going to need to be an adult, something comes along. Something happens. Life is never boring for long.

I know you’d be so proud of me. Just so you know, I’m crying as I write this. I don’t really know why. It’s a real adamant sob too. My lip is wobbling from all the anger I have towards you, trying to keep the tears in. But I can’t. Sometimes I just gotta cry about you. I accept that. You were such a huge deal in my life.

My TimeHop is filled with little memories of you. A year ago today, I was trying to put together the finishing touches of that jar of little envelopes I gave you. I had such a hard time with that thing, and it took me months and months to complete. 365 (or there about’s) tiny little hand-made envelopes, each one filled with a tiny snippet of my blog – something about you. It was mostly good, although there were a few little bad ones in there, but the aim of the game was to make you smile for 365 days – the same amount of days you had made me smile. Because every day, although I wasn’t always that happy with you, you did make me smile. Every single fucking day. And even now, I’ll remember things that we once did together and it makes me smile. Anyway, isn’t that the cutest gift for our one year anniversary? I sure thought so.

They played our song at work on the radio today – that little John Legend beauty. It still breaks my heart each and every time I hear it, and during that penultimate shift, it was almost enough to make me cry. Tomorrow is going to be a shit-show, and more than anything I want you to give me a kiss on the forehead and tell me everything will be OK. I’ve been really pining for you recently, and I don’t know or understand why. It was months ago that we broke up. I thought I would be halfway to being over you by now. Apparently not.

I’ve often wondered what you did with those envelopes. I wonder if you carried on reading them every morning like I told you to. I wonder if you look at them now. Every now and again, sneakily so that your new girlfriend would never know…? I wonder if you do that? I wonder if you have a new girlfriend. I wonder why you’re not on POF anymore. I wonder if you ever think about us? Whether or not you get little flashbacks to the life we once had together? I don’t know why I wonder this stuff though. I don’t ever want to know.

I often think about what would happen if you were to come back into my life, and I genuinely hope that situation never arises. I don’t know what I’d do. I’d want to walk away, head held high, winning that fucking awful breakup war. In reality, I think I’d crumble. I’d cry for sure. You’d get to me because you always knew how. You’d win me over with some other cheesy love song. You’d look deep into my eyes with yours, and I’d fall in love with your baby blues in a heartbeat. Just like I always did. And then we’d end up in bed together. Just like we always did. For an old guy, you really did play my body very well. I will never know how you managed to make me putty in your hands. I will always miss the way your fingers once felt on my skin.

But all that aside, I quit my fucking job. That thing you always wanted me to do – quit my day job and become a full time writer; I’m finally doing it. And I’m so scared. I wish you were there to hold my hand. In fact, I wish you’d been there to hold my hand through a lot of what I’ve been through over the last few months. But you weren’t. I’ll get over that one day.

In fact, you know what? I won’t. I won’t ever get over that. Ever. Thanks for leaving me just as I was going through my two near-fucking-close brushes with cancer. Yes, that’s right. The benign polyp they found in my bowel wasn’t as benign as I was told by my doctors it was… Another story for another day perhaps.

Tomorrow is my last day. I wish you knew that. I wish you knew half of what had been going on in my life recently. I almost lost the plot but I didn’t. You would have been so proud of me. I think I managed to snap myself out of the shit just moments before it consumed me. I’m still recovering. From you, from being sick, from all of it. I have a lot to recover from. I think that’s OK.

I really miss being able to talk to you. I thought after I blocked you, you might try to email me with something grand to say. But you didn’t. I guess whatever you had to say that night wasn’t that damn important after all. I’m glad I didn’t respond. You see, I loved you, still love you in fact, but I’m not that much of a masochist to try and tame you one more time. You are untameable, as am I. And together we would either have been brilliant, or we would have failed spectacularly. I put all of my eggs in your basket, of course they were the two only outcomes. And we chose the latter. Boy did we.

So there you have it Jock. Just a few things I wanted to say to you but can’t.

Still love you.”

My Last Day.

Last night, I wrote a letter to Jock. I didn’t do anything with it. I was going to post it on my blog. But I didn’t. I fell asleep instead. I’ll post it after. You’ll understand why shortly.

Today was my last day at work. That’s right. I finally quit to be a full time writer, and today was my last day of my 30-day notice. I made it right to the very end of the day without crying, even when there were a few moments where I thought I might. And then it happened.

Did I tell you a few weeks ago about the guy that came into my work? The guy that looked, walked, and stood just like Jock did? The guy that gave me butterflies in my stomach like Jock did. The guy that was the same minion-height as Jock was. The guy that made me cry in front of a work colleague? Well, guess what. He was my very last customer. My very, very last. The last person I ever served.

Why? Why did Jock need to go and ruin my very last day at work? Sometimes it feels as if something or someone is trying to make this whole ‘get over him’ thing as difficult as humanly possible. Aren’t I moving on enough? I quit my job, decided to follow my dream, met a new guy… Am I not trying hard enough already? Seriously?

What the fuck is the universe’s problem right now? Why is it making it so much harder to get over this guy? Why, every time I think I’m finally getting somewhere, does he pop right back into my head? Why? Whhhhhhhyyyyyy?

It’s so frustrating. I’m doing so well. That’s what it looks like on Facebook anyway. So why doesn’t it feel like that? Why does it feel as if I’m not doing very well at all? Why does it feel as if I’ll never get over him, despite how hard I’m trying? It feels like he still has such a big part of me, and until I get that part back, I won’t be able to move on.

So what part of me has he got? And how do I go about getting it back? I have now accepted that we won’t ever get back together, and I WANT to move on. So why can’t I? What’s stopping me?

Why did my last customer of the day; my last customer ever, need to be THAT guy?

#Throwback One Year Ago Today…

My TimeHop this morning gave me another shitty reminder of just what I was doing a year ago today. Yep, that’s right. Another Jock-related post. Fuck, why can’t I just get him out of my head?!

It was a very drunken photo of the Redneck and I. We’d all gone out that night – the Columbian, the Redneck, Jock and little old me. The Columbian had taken a bit of persuading. In fact, he had a fight with his girlfriend to come out that night, because she wouldn’t let him. Wouldn’t let him? Are we kids now, back in high school? Pathetic.

Well, I got blind drunk. It was the same town that the Hubby was based at, and I was adamant he was somewhere around, lurking behind every dark corner. The thought of bumping into him that night absolutely terrified me.

I called the Columbian a cunt. I called his girlfriend a cunt too, and she wasn’t even there! I called Jock a cunt. I was full of the C-word. The exact reason I don’t drink anymore…

I was an angry drunk that night, and I was ashamed of my behaviour. The next morning was just as horrific as the night before, and between me getting lost walking in the middle of the woods trying to find a store to buy tampons and water, and us calling each other a cunt one more time, it’s a night we could probably all do with forgetting about.

We didn’t go out that often together, mostly because I was an angry drunk. The first night we went out and had a few drinks, I smacked him around the face because he was being a prick. Throwing his money around and buying bottle of champagne, I’d already asked him to calm down once and told him he wasn’t impressing me, so when he kept doing it, I reckon he knew the smack was coming.

It didn’t happen every night. In fact, there were more than a few nights we went out and had a bloody good time, but when it exploded, man did it explode. Like the night he abandoned me at the Summer Ball, and then verbally abused me all the way home. That wasn’t the guy I started dating right there, I don’t know who that man was. I guess the old, soldier-boy inside him was a proper prick. Just like the younger version of me was a proper prick too – the part of me that tends to come out after I’ve had a few drinks.

You can take the girl out of Chav-land, but you can’t take Chav-land out of the girl. Apparently.

I can’t believe that was a year ago. My relationship with him feels like a lifetime away now – before I got super sick and met Someone New. Isn’t it funny how much can change in just twelve months?

I wonder if he still thinks of me. I wonder if he looks back and remembers what we were doing a year ago? I wonder if part of him still looks back at those times we shared and giggle, just like I do? Or occasionally cry?

Probably Not. Tosser.

#Throwback... One Year Ago Today

And I Call Myself An Adult…

OK…. So something weird happened to me yesterday. Over the last couple of weeks, I’ve had a customer who I shall call Gentle Giant. He’s been in a lot, and he’s spent a lot of time in my store, mostly because my company are somewhat incompetent at times. (Just another reason I’m leaving… Friday is my last day!)

Well, we happen to have a vaping habit as common ground. Talking and sharing tips, things moved on to a Facebook level. We’re now friends, and by all accounts, flirting.

And I Call Myself An Adult...

Now, before you get too excited, let me just tell you something. He’s not attractive. He’s big and lumbering and hairy. Like six and half feet big, and almost as wide. I think he’s a couple of years younger than me, and there’s no physical attraction there. However, on a ‘talking’ level, we have some sort of weird connection. Our Facebook messages are getting progressively chattier even though I can see his ‘taken’ Facebook status, and I would imagine he could sense mine. If Someone New didn’t look enough like my boyfriend, I’m sure my constant and very regular status’ with Bestie will make me appear off the market…. Right?

Wrong. I’m pretty sure he’s flirting with me. To be fair, I was sure he was into me before we’d even gotten to a Facebook level so to some extent, I’m not convinced this ISN’T leading him on. But all that aside, I shouldn’t be indulging in cheeky flirtation. I have Someone New. Although I think Karen was right in her comment… I’m not that into him, am I? He’s just a little something to pass the time, perhaps? Although I know it’s only going to be a matter of time before shit kicks off and we’re ready to part ways. It just seems a bit of a shame. He’s actually a decent guy, if a little on the controlling side.

Back to the Gentle Giant though, and I can’t work him out. Like he must know that I can see he has a girlfriend? It’s on his Facebook page. It’s not like its secretly hidden somewhere. I didn’t need to go looking to find it. So why is he flirting with me? And worse, even though I’m not interested, why do I feel compelled to flirt back? Even the cleanest of messages ends up having some sort of weird flirty twist in there. Its like I can’t help myself.

I know what it is. Bestie has gone away on his vacation for a week, and I’ve been left to my own devices. He’s only been gone for a couple of days, and I’m already bored of Someone New, made a new friend (Gentle Giant) who I’m not attracted to, but can’t help flirting with anyway, and booked my leaving party for work…. Which will probably end up with me and Number 42 in bed again. Let’s not beat around the bush. It’s probably going to happen.

He’s already made it clear he wants it to happen. He’s been the one instigating the event. There’s a problem though. The last few weeks I’ve gotten somewhat closer to a different male work colleague, and he’s started to take things to a flirtier level, trying to get me to go a festival with him, and telling me he’ll kidnap me if I don’t come out for the leaving do. I’m definitely not flirting back. We’ve worked together for too long for me to see him in THAT way, plus he’s a few years younger than I am. It’s a no-go. Even I’m not that dumb. But, Bestie picked up on the flirty atmosphere a little while back, and I’ve started to notice little things myself.

I think it’s just a weird period in my life. I’m quitting my job. I’m becoming proper, full-time self employed and I won’t lie, I’m shitting my pants about it a little bit. Plus I don’t know what I’m doing with Someone New. Although I do know I’m about to blow him out this afternoon. It’s a shame he doesn’t know that yet. He will soon. Maybe I’m just bored?

See, I can’t be trusted when you leave me to my own devices. I need Bestie back to help me make my decisions again! And I call myself an adult. Pffft.

Because It’s Shark Week?

Sooooooo, last night I decided to finally go and see my Someone New. I’d blown him out for about four weeks and he was starting to get really annoyed with me, so although I was about an hour later than agreed, I eventually got my ass over to see him.

We were going to go for a cocktail or two, and then head back to his to watch Fifty Shades of Grey and have mindless sex. That was the plan, anyway.

Instead, I got my period. 56 days after my last one, it was heavy, I was in agony, and after that LLETZ procedure that seems to have completely wrecked my insides, I was in no mood to fuck around. He was bugging me every five minutes as I was getting ready, “How long will you be?”, “Where are you?”, “Are you on your way?”, and I snapped.

“If you quit bugging me, I’d be ready and on my way a hell of a lot sooner. I’ll be leaving soon. I will message you when I’ve left. Now be quiet and let me finish what I need to do!” 

I didn’t meant to be quite so sharp with him but I’ll be honest, Someone New was really pissing me off at this point.

We met up, and planned to head for the bar we usually frequent, and he decided to spice things up. “I want a Long Island ice tea, so we’re going to a different place!” This different place was miles away, or so it seemed, and it was packed. I had already told him I had crippling back ache and didn’t want to walk all over town, nor would my crippling social anxiety allow me to go into a packed bar on a Saturday night, so I would only go there if it wouldn’t be really busy.

We got there, and of course it was busy. So we went back to his. I was annoyed. By this point, I was now in agony with lower pain ache, and period cramps, and I knew I’d need to take one of my painkillers that have a tendency to knock me the fuck out for the rest of the day. With the period, the walking, the lack of cocktails, and the painkillers, there was absolutely no point in the date.

He made dinner, half of which I couldn’t eat because of my ridiculous Poo Problems, and then I passed out on the couch. We spent 14 hours together. An hour and a half of that was spent moaning, or me subjecting him to the sulky silent treatment, 8 of those hours were spent sleeping in bed, two of those hours were spent with me sleeping on him on the couch. Eleven and a half hours of our 14 hour date WASTED. I started to wish I hadn’t gone.

You see, I’m starting to see him in a slightly different light now, and I don’t know if that’s because I’m an uber-bitch because of the period from hell, or if I’m really not that into him. Because I really don’t think I’m that into him.

I wasn’t overly bothered that I didn’t get to see him over the last few weeks. Yes, I was marginally pissed off, but it wasn’t end of the world stuff. And he’s really starting to annoy me. If I’m out of contact for a couple of hours (which I am, regularly), or if I don’t appear at the exact time we first agree, he’s on the phone to me, bugging me every five minutes. I can’t be with someone like that. I’m always late. ALWAYS. I’m late to everything – work, social events, writing work occasionally. I don’t know how or why I’m late so often, especially as I seem to get up stupidly early some days, but I am. There is a vortex right outside my front door, and I’m sure there’s hours of my time stuck in there!

Plus I’m really disorganised. I’m not grubby but I am messy. I live in continual chaos, and my desk is always covered by pieces of paper and little note-scraps. I leave the dishes for a couple of days sometimes, and I don’t do my laundry as often as I need to. He’s like OCD clean. Within ten minutes of finishing dinner, he’s off to the kitchen doing the dishes. I cannot live like that. I want to veg out after dinner.

Last night was the first night I was bored with him. I just felt like the date had been a complete waste of my time. I could have stayed at home, gotten high, and written a few thousand words, earning myself some much-needed money. Instead, I spent a fortune getting over to his, and then only actually spending a couple of hours with him, and I’d hardly call that quality time. Pointless.

I’m meant to be going back to his place Monday night / Tuesday day to spend it with him, his two friends, and their two-year old daughter. He wants to introduce me to his friends? Really? I can’t even decide whether or not I really want him in my life, and he’s dropping the L-bomb conveniently into conversation all the time, and introducing me to his closest friends. I’m so not ready for this bullshit.

What the fuck am I meant to do here? I’ve already blown these particular friends out once, possibly twice. I think only the once though. I can’t blow them out again. Someone New won’t be able to forgive me, and as much as I’m not sure if I want him in my life, I definitely don’t want to hurt his feelings. I’m not that much of a bitch. Am I?

I’m not over Jock enough to jump into a relationship like this. There’s me casually dating this guy (although not dating anyone else either), and he’s IN LOVE. Plus I’m pretty sure he’ll have a rock on my finger within a year. He’s that kind of guy, you know.

What happened to taking your time? I’ve had this conversation with him. I’ve told him that I want things to slow down. He agreed with me. He said he would slow it down. So why is he making me do this? Social anxiety aside, I’m not ready to meet his close friends. I’ve not yet been brave enough to head into his work place yet. Apparently the girl he used to screw said I was pretty. She’s young though. I’m not stupid enough to think she won’t react to me in some way. Not only am I his NEW squeeze, but she probably still has a bit of a thing for him as he’s older and she’s pretty young. Plus I look the way I do. I’m quite intimidating when I want to be. And I’m very snooty and up my own ass when you meet me. My quiet, shy, social anxiety persona doesn’t come across as shy and quiet. She comes across a real fucking bitch. But I know this. I accept it. So that’s fine, right?

So what do I do? Find myself some balls and go see his friends Tuesday anyway? Or do I try and find another excuse to get out of it? I can’t just tell him I’m not sure about him yet… Can I?

Maybe Because It's Shark Week?

Maybe it’s just because of shark week? 

How Many Times Can You Blow Someone Out Before They Dump You?

Seriously, I’ve blown Someone New out for the last three occasions – about four weeks. We’ve not seen each other for so long, I’ve started to forget what he looks like, but every time we agree to meet up, something always gets in the way.

It’s either a writing client not paying on time, or I was having a particularly bad stomach day. One of them I think I had to work… Or washing machine dramas. This is getting ridiculous. We see each other just once a week and I still can’t seem to make that happen?

I really feel bad for the guy. He’s told me he’s basically in love with me now. Look:

How Many Times Can You Blow Someone Out Before They Dump You?

I was honest with him. That was the right approach, right? That conversation I wanted to have with him face to face, the one I was planning on having with him before I blew him out the last two days,  I was forced to have it right there and then. It made me really uncomfortable. I care about this guy, but I don’t think I love him. I am really disappointed by the fact I haven’t been able to see him, but at the same time, I’ve got a lot of writing work done, I’ve earned a lot of money, and I’ve gotten one step closer to being a successful full time freelance writer. Successful is the operative word here.

We’ve made another date for Saturday night, and I’m hoping and praying nothing comes up for that. I’m pretty sure he’d just ditch me there and then if I blew him out a fourth time in a row. I don’t blame him. But how do you try to express to someone how genuinely gutted you feel, when you can’t seem to get face to face with someone, and even catching each other’s phone calls is hard enough?

If this was the other way around, I’d be seriously blowing a fuse right now. Do you remember how fucking pissed off I used to get when Jock was blowing me out? If Someone New has half the rage I had back then, I feel truly very sorry for him. I know how gutting that feeling is – to get your hopes up and get yourself super-excited, only for something, anything to get in the way and fuck shit all up. I hate that. That is the exact reason why I don’t make regular plans. That any my crippling social anxiety.

I’m hoping, once I’ve worked the little bit of notice period I have left in the ‘day job’, I’ll have more time on my hands, and shit won’t come up like this all the time. I’m keeping my fingers crossed that happens, or I’m sure it’s going to wreck another relationship. This destroyed my relationship with Jock well before he fucked it all up. I was forever blowing him out and rearranging nights together. It was just funny that when I made an effort to stick to our plans, Jock used to mess them all around. I guess life just works a little funny sometimes.

I don’t know. I don’t even know what I want to say. Its like he doesn’t think I’m disappointed that I didn’t get to see him. Of course I was disappointed. I shaved my legs and everything, ready to hop on the bus and seduce the crap out of him. I hate it when I shave my legs for no reason. I really, really hate that.

It’s just a shit time. That’s what I keep telling myself. Keep calm, breathe on, and all that crap. In, out, it’ll soon be Saturday night, and fingers crossed, everything goes according to plan. I’m going to watch Fifty Shades of Grey with that man, and we are going to have mind-boggling sex afterwards.

Watch my period arrive now and fuck up my plans for seduction…

Just my luck.