I'm just having a cup of tea before heading off to the salon this morning to get a spray tan and my hair cut and coloured...all in preparation for tonight's birthday celebrations!
We (the girls) are heading out on the 'Wild Boys Afloat' river cruise on the Brisbane River, it should be highly entertaining! It's bizarre, I have seen more female strippers than I can count and yet never a male stripper. I always find the females amusing so I expect the men to be more so!
Feeling much happier about everything now. Haven't heard from the Londoner since my birthday 5 days ago - where he text happy birthday at 11pm and I didn't reply. He only got fined $150 for the court case so there is really no excuse for him to still be having his little breakdown. Granted the fight was an extreme thing to happen but 'worse things happen at sea' as they say, and if he allows his whole life go to shit when one thing goes wrong, then he's really not the sort of man I want to be with.
Which brings me to Ross. Usually I use code names for everyone but this guy is everything, I can't sum him up in a pseudonym. His voice is like melted chocolate. His eyes are like a deep abyss. He makes my heart not just skip a beat, but stop completely. I have been besotted with him for nearly 3 years, after more mind-blowing sex than I can even remember in one solo-session with the vibrator...
About a month ago, when I was with the Londoner, he finally admitted that he has always felt the same way but is scared of it. I burst into tears, it was so good to hear him say that but I was trying to make a go of it with the London and besides, he is in England...
...but I have decided to go back to England for a holiday in 2 weeks time...
Friday, May 29, 2009
Thursday, May 21, 2009
By the power vested in tea...
Where would the world be without a nice cup of tea?
Each sip seems to have a knack of making things appear brighter.
The Londoner didn't ring and I didn't see him, so I didn't need to decide on which shoes to wear! But his Facebook status reads "is on his way to Sydney with a sad face" Yes, I have been stalking him on Facebook. That's another thing I'm not sure we could live without - Facebook. Tea and Facebook.
I went on a date last night - I will refer to him as 'the accountant'. It was quite cute, he picked me up from drama teaching and we went and sat by the river as the sun attempted to redeem itself after all that pissing rain. It was obvious he was trying to kiss me and eventually I let him because it was easier that trying to avoid it any longer. (When you are sat wrapped up in a rug shivering, and someone's lips are only a few inches from your face, there are only so many times you can cough or wipe your nose or go 'look over there!' to avoid it).
I felt like a bowl of milk the way his tongue was lapping away at me. I tried biting it but that just encouraged him more. I thought perhaps his technique might be good in other places, alas I don't think with kissing skills like that he could ever turn me on enough for me to let him get down that far.
And his hands are small. Never a good sign.
But it was nice enough - we watched a movie and went for dinner, conversation flowed easily. But he held my hand on the way to and from the car which made me a bit sick in my mouth. Then he offered to walk me to my door. Ha.
Anyway, I'm going to a comedy club with the accountant tonight as I got some free tickets for my birthday and my friend Lucy let me down last minute. Would be a waste not to go. It's just difficult because he is ready to settle down. He knows what he wants from life. And I don't yet. There is so much more of the world I want to see. And he doesn't make me heart go 'boom' like the Londoner.
You know that feeling when you are trying not to think of someone and yet the more you try not to, the more everything around you reminds you of them? Like a song that's stuck in your head and although its annoying you and you wish it would go away, you find yourself humming the catchy little tune all day long. Then it finally gets out of your head...and you hear it on the radio. That was the Londoner for me yesterday.
Alas, time for another cup of tea.
Each sip seems to have a knack of making things appear brighter.
The Londoner didn't ring and I didn't see him, so I didn't need to decide on which shoes to wear! But his Facebook status reads "is on his way to Sydney with a sad face" Yes, I have been stalking him on Facebook. That's another thing I'm not sure we could live without - Facebook. Tea and Facebook.
I went on a date last night - I will refer to him as 'the accountant'. It was quite cute, he picked me up from drama teaching and we went and sat by the river as the sun attempted to redeem itself after all that pissing rain. It was obvious he was trying to kiss me and eventually I let him because it was easier that trying to avoid it any longer. (When you are sat wrapped up in a rug shivering, and someone's lips are only a few inches from your face, there are only so many times you can cough or wipe your nose or go 'look over there!' to avoid it).
I felt like a bowl of milk the way his tongue was lapping away at me. I tried biting it but that just encouraged him more. I thought perhaps his technique might be good in other places, alas I don't think with kissing skills like that he could ever turn me on enough for me to let him get down that far.
And his hands are small. Never a good sign.
But it was nice enough - we watched a movie and went for dinner, conversation flowed easily. But he held my hand on the way to and from the car which made me a bit sick in my mouth. Then he offered to walk me to my door. Ha.
Anyway, I'm going to a comedy club with the accountant tonight as I got some free tickets for my birthday and my friend Lucy let me down last minute. Would be a waste not to go. It's just difficult because he is ready to settle down. He knows what he wants from life. And I don't yet. There is so much more of the world I want to see. And he doesn't make me heart go 'boom' like the Londoner.
You know that feeling when you are trying not to think of someone and yet the more you try not to, the more everything around you reminds you of them? Like a song that's stuck in your head and although its annoying you and you wish it would go away, you find yourself humming the catchy little tune all day long. Then it finally gets out of your head...and you hear it on the radio. That was the Londoner for me yesterday.
Alas, time for another cup of tea.
Monday, May 18, 2009
Men are like shoes
Men are like shoes.
I made this sweeping statement as I contemplated the intricacies of my life whilst shopping, (as we women do), and found the parallels between men and shoes to be rather overwhelming...
To start with, all shoes (and men) look great from a distance - it's only when you get closer that you realise most are ugly and the good looking ones are sold out, (or gay). After working your way through a dozen or so shops and trying on a few (or 40+) pairs, you fall in love with one set, and go through whatever pain barriers you must in order to get them. Then what happens? They bloody hurt! Sure, at the shop when you were laughing and joking and deciding whether you wanted them or not they seemed perfect. But then on your first official night out together they start pinching on your little toe. And weeks later there may be parts of you that are sore, but it was worth it.
Besides, you really like these shoes, right? So, you put on some plasters (excuse my English terminology - band aids), and you put up with a bit of pain because there is sooo much right about the shoes and you can really see a future with them - you even stop wearing your other shoes because these are your favourites.
Then they decide they are going to move to Sydney...
Ok, so perhaps this is where the similarity ends. Alas, despite being a POM, I like to think I am relatively sane and do acknowledge that shoes (although some would argue men as well) do not have a mind of their own.
But this one does - The Londoner. I can't control what he does or what he says or how I feel about him. And whilst it annoys the shit out of me, I love it.
So, to elaborate on my story for those who have made it thus far...
After 3 wonderful, although sometimes sore months, he got arrested for being in a fight and announces he is up-and-leaving just as soon as he has appeared in court, with no plans to return. Like the heels breaking on your favourite shoes, I took quite a fall. For the past 2 weeks, despite being in the same city, we have not seen each other. We have partaken in a cat-and-mouse style chase, where neither one is always the cat, nor always the mouse. I believe some call it "phone tag". I would see him ringing and not answer. Then ring him back hours later and he would do the same to me. My mum has always taught me "Treat 'um mean, keep 'um keen" - and I can assure you that more often that not it works...
Sure enough, he then decides he might be coming back in 2 weeks time as he actually loves Brisbane and thinks it will be too cold in Sydney - you would think being from London he could handle the chill factor, which makes me question (and hope) the reason he might be coming back, might in fact be, because of me.
His court case is in 2 days time. He flies to Sydney that afternoon. I am seeing him tonight.
Now, which shoes shall I wear?!
I made this sweeping statement as I contemplated the intricacies of my life whilst shopping, (as we women do), and found the parallels between men and shoes to be rather overwhelming...
To start with, all shoes (and men) look great from a distance - it's only when you get closer that you realise most are ugly and the good looking ones are sold out, (or gay). After working your way through a dozen or so shops and trying on a few (or 40+) pairs, you fall in love with one set, and go through whatever pain barriers you must in order to get them. Then what happens? They bloody hurt! Sure, at the shop when you were laughing and joking and deciding whether you wanted them or not they seemed perfect. But then on your first official night out together they start pinching on your little toe. And weeks later there may be parts of you that are sore, but it was worth it.
Besides, you really like these shoes, right? So, you put on some plasters (excuse my English terminology - band aids), and you put up with a bit of pain because there is sooo much right about the shoes and you can really see a future with them - you even stop wearing your other shoes because these are your favourites.
Then they decide they are going to move to Sydney...
Ok, so perhaps this is where the similarity ends. Alas, despite being a POM, I like to think I am relatively sane and do acknowledge that shoes (although some would argue men as well) do not have a mind of their own.
But this one does - The Londoner. I can't control what he does or what he says or how I feel about him. And whilst it annoys the shit out of me, I love it.
So, to elaborate on my story for those who have made it thus far...
After 3 wonderful, although sometimes sore months, he got arrested for being in a fight and announces he is up-and-leaving just as soon as he has appeared in court, with no plans to return. Like the heels breaking on your favourite shoes, I took quite a fall. For the past 2 weeks, despite being in the same city, we have not seen each other. We have partaken in a cat-and-mouse style chase, where neither one is always the cat, nor always the mouse. I believe some call it "phone tag". I would see him ringing and not answer. Then ring him back hours later and he would do the same to me. My mum has always taught me "Treat 'um mean, keep 'um keen" - and I can assure you that more often that not it works...
Sure enough, he then decides he might be coming back in 2 weeks time as he actually loves Brisbane and thinks it will be too cold in Sydney - you would think being from London he could handle the chill factor, which makes me question (and hope) the reason he might be coming back, might in fact be, because of me.
His court case is in 2 days time. He flies to Sydney that afternoon. I am seeing him tonight.
Now, which shoes shall I wear?!
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