Let’s talk progress

It’s March, guys. MARCH.

Yes, I am one of those girls who says, ‘OMG, WHERE HAS THE TIME GONE?!’

Just let me have it. Please.

So, if you remember, before 2014 hit, I made a small list of things that I would like to leave behind in 2013. I won’t lie – I’ve not done very well. Like, at all. Here we go..

  1. W – basically, we’re friends again. Just friends, though; no shagging. I know what you’re thinking – what a fucking retard – and you’re probably right. I really hope not,  though. Things feel different this time. I wouldn’t say he’s changed, he’s just stopped lying. Maybe I’m an idiot to believe that, but I’ve had no reason not to. I’m still fairly wary but every day it gets a little bit better. I feel like we’re real friends now; we go for brunch, hit up museums, have drinks – real friend shit. Sure, we have a lot of ‘history’ and it gets dredged up a lot, but we also joke about being soulmate friends and how neither of us will find anyone better. Most importantly, though, we send each other voice notes singing Frozen lyrics – real friend shit. I’ll admit it, it’s a weird friendship and sometimes I don’t really understand it, but it’s so easy. It’s always been easy. I won’t say I think he’s a better person now than he was, but I do feel like he’s better to me. I’m not going to say any more about him as he’s vain as fuck and loves reading about himself too much, but for now, I’m happy we’re in each other’s lives.

    It’s verging on sad how much we love it

  2. Cake – exclude birthday cake and I’ve still done pretty badly. A few days into the year I had a dilemma – do muffins count as cakes? After asking around and being told that they in fact do, I refrained from eating the BLUEBERRY muffins for breakfast. Then the next morning rolled around and that restraint flew out the window. Whoops. I also ate some kind of cake bar which I didn’t think counted, but apparently did. And, I’ll just say it – I ate regular cake, too. I’m weak. Shut up.
  3. Vomming – I’ve actually stuck to this one! Despite having been drunk off my face multiple times since the New Year, I’ve managed to keep it under control. Mornings after are significantly better when you’re not being judged and reprimanded. I’ve really enjoyed being a (semi)responsible drinker – I’ve not done anything I’ve regretted which is boring refreshing.

    I no longer look like this

  4. Unsafe sex – you have to have sex to have safe sex. I don’t want to talk about it. Shut up.
  5. Unemployment – so, I went back to nannying for a while. Not for the hilarious and boisterous little boy that I used to look after, but for a nightmare incarnated in a four year old girl. I have multiple small cousins and am around children all the time yet I have literally never known anyone to cry so much. Ever. I understand kids are attached to their mothers, I do, but when she’s IN THE SAME HOUSE, there’s no reason to cry out for her. I could barely take her outside as she’d cry her heart out in the middle of the street and I’d worry that someone would think I’d kidnapped her. She cried so hard I thought she’d hurt herself. The kid had so much attitude as well, and I shit you not, she even hit me. I did not get paid enough for that shit. As for ‘real’ work, the situation is dire, guys. You are more than welcome to give me a job. Please.

How has the new year been going for you? Are you happy with 2014 so far? What would you like to change this month?


Snapchat Antagonism

After my Snapchat Relapse, I messaged W and told him that such mini lapses in judgement couldn’t happen again and that they were unfair on me. He responded with

I can help. Fuck off shit head.

There is genuinely something wrong with me that this made me smile. After a few more of these exchanges, we said goodbye.

Obviously all snapchatting did not cease, but it did become a little bit more sparse. Today, however, I went crazy; snapchat crazy that is, I don’t do the whole psycho girl thing. Now, I tend to snapchat a lot anyway; probably more than is acceptable. But I’d definitely stopped sending the majority of them to W. Yet today I somehow found myself sending him all of them – even ones that weren’t being sent to multiple contacts, just him.


I think it was partly that I was still recovering from being ill the days before, and partly because every single one I sent got some variation of ‘fuck off’ or ‘fuck the fucking fuck off’.

I’m not quite sure what made me keep going. He stopped when I sent one captioned ‘am I antagonising you?’

Maybe I was. Maybe he was trying to antagonise me. Maybe he really was trying to keep me from allowing myself to relapse again. I don’t know. But I had fun with it. What does that say about me?

Sneaking Out Of A Boy’s House Gracelessly

I have for you, dear readers, a story that epitomises the one night stand. It is both tragic and shameless, and was, of course, a complete accident.

Last December I went to visit my friends who were still studying at our undergrad university. It was set to be a pretty standard weekend involving copious amounts of drinking, clubbing and hangover food. I was beyond excited.

Club Cant Even Handle Us Right Now

how cool I tend to look ‘in da club’

I was staying with my old housemate, one of my best friends, Lexi. Our day went swimmingly, and come night time we met with the rest of our friends and had a pretty good night out. At least I think it was good. I could’t really tell you. I was fucked. Before I knew it the night was over and I had met no boys (as far as I remember). So off Lexi and I set on the cold walk home. The walk home, like all walks home with me, looked something like this

funny giraffe picture

apt as we are both tall girls with a thing for giraffes

Something to note and keep in mind – girls wear very little clothes when going out. This doesn’t mesh well with December in London so we take a big bag with more clothes, coats and flat shoes to pile on at the end of the night. I was carrying this bag with both of our smaller clutch bags – containing money, keys, phones – inside it on the way home. 

So, there we are stumbling down the footpath when a boy asks us for a lighter. I immediately dive into my ‘smoking kills’ spiel, yell at him, and fall over a couple of times. Obviously he can’t help but be smitten. Lexi walks ahead to leave us to get with each other. As we approach the bottom of the hill where the road forks, I inform him that I am staying with my friend and have to go. Somehow I end up at his. Like I said, I was very drunk, and my memory of the events are very hazy. I’m not even sure I knew how I ended up there at the time. I take my clutch, leaving the big bag downstairs and he leads me to his bedroom. I’m still insisting that I’m going back to my friend’s house. I keep calling her but she doesn’t answer. I insist some more. He’s having none of it. He pushes me back onto the bed and clothes start coming off. My phone starts ringing, and thinking its Lexi, I run to get it. I am confused when I see that it is our other friend, Steph. I pick up. When I hear Lexi’s voice I am even more confused. Then, as she starts explaining, it all comes together. I am a terrible friend.

As you may have pieced together, I had the big bag. I had her house keys, her phone, and all of her money. She thought I was following her home. I honestly thought I was too. But, instead, I left her stranded. Bad friend. Half naked and batting the boy away from me, I apologise profusely and offer to come to Steph’s to meet her. She says there is no point and I might as well bang the boy. Except she doesn’t say ‘bang’ – apparently no one does and I am weird for it?

Anyway, I feel terrible but of course I stay. Things progress with the boy as such things tend to progress. I honestly couldn’t tell you whether it was good or not. I couldn’t tell you what positions we did it in, how many times or if either of us came. I was fucked – in every sense possible. What I do remember extremely vividly, however, is this conversation:

Me – How tall are you?

Boy – 5’11

Me – Cool

Boy – I lied, I’m 5’10

Just what?! It still makes me laugh to this day. Anyway, after other obligatory chat to soften the sluttiness we fell asleep. I even let him spoon me. Only because it was fucking freezing though.

The next day, I woke up far later than appropriate. I checked my phone to see messages asking where I was etc and who this random boy was. I had no fucking clue. I turned to look at him. He was blonde! Anyone who knows me knows that blondes just aren’t my thing. I couldn’t really see his face to see how cute he was. Gutted. I didn’t even know his name. It was definitely time to leave but the boy was dead to the world. I thought for a second I may have been so good it killed him, but quickly laughed it off.

There was nothing left to do but make a run for it. It was my only option. I looked under the covers to confirm that I was indeed butt naked. I looked to the side of me to see if I could see any of my clothes. Negative. I scooted forward and checked the foot of the bed. Not there either. I leaned as far over him as possible and checked his side of the bed, too. Nope.

So I crawl out of the bed, completely naked, and the hunt begins. I can’t find ANYTHING. I text Lexi this. Apparently my situation is hilarious. I can tell you that there is nothing hilarious or attractive about being hunched over and rifling through a strange boy’s mess of a room. He definitely needed to clean. How many dark t shirts and pairs of trousers can one person leave on the floor?! Eventually I found a bra. Then a blouse. So that was my top covered. Lexi told me to steal some trackies but I’d been wearing my favourite shorts and I refused to leave them! After another 5 minute search, I found them. Where the fuck were my knickers? I gave the room another once over, but couldn’t find them. Fortunately for me, unfortunately for him, they weren’t particularly nice ones, so I bit the bullet and decided to leave without them. I shimmied into my shorts, grabbed my earrings off the dresser, picked up my clutch and tiptoed out of the room and down the stairs. I picked up the big bag and headed for the door. Where were my shoes?!

I wandered around the whole of downstairs, once again on the hunt. The silver lining of this was that as I wandered around, I came across the house FIFA table in the kitchen and this lead me to remember the boy’s name! So that made me feel a little bit better. Anyway, I headed back upstairs to search his room again. Nothing. But then, as I was leaving, I managed to be at just the right angle to spot them in a different boy’s bedroom! What were they doing in there?! Had I been in there? Was my underwear in there too?! I had literally no answers. So I just slipped on my pumps and legged it. I came out of the house to see that I was only three streets away from Lexi’s. What a cock up.

Needless to say, the boy and I have not been in contact since. For all he knows, the whole thing could have been one giant wet dream. Well, if I hadn’t left my pants that is.

Snapchat Relapse

It’s no great secret that boys never really, truly let you go. Even when you think you’re out of their douchey, lying clutches, they claw you back in. They want to ensure that they are always on your mind. After all, no one likes to be forgotten. This happened to me last night when I got a snapchat from W. Now, he still snapchats me fairly regularly, and when I am tired or not really thinking about it, I slip up and reply. At the end of the day, it’s only snapchat, right? What’s the worst that could happen?

Last night, however, we had a full blown snapchat conversation. It was just so natural and easy to do, I hated him even more for taking such a good friendship away from me. At one point he tried to move the chat to whatsapp, but when I failed to reply, probably realised that snapchat was the only relapse loophole I was allowing myself.

My personal favourite was a snapchat of my Winnie the Pooh teddy with the caption ‘dumb enough to get stuck in the honey trap‘. Hilarious, right? Couldn’t think of a more apt metaphor. Of course it quickly devolved into snapchats about banging. Because I’m an idiot. I tried to stay on the offensive as much as possible; he said bitchy doesn’t suit me. Apparently I can be a cunt, but not a bitch. Can someone explain that to me, please?

Over two hours later, the conversation ended with a snapchat captioned ‘relapse over‘. I knew I was stupid for having played along, but I felt relatively okay about it. Then this morning, due to unrelated events, I almost cried. I’ve literally cried once in the last 15 years. I really wanted to talk to him afterwards. Not even about it, because that’s just not something I do, but because I knew he would make me feel better. I would say anything, he would say something offensive – I would feel warm and nostalgic and like all was right with the world again.

What is wrong with me?

Liar, liar

As I mentioned here and here, I make bad decisions. W was a bad decision I knowingly made over and over.

We met on Tinder. After a week of constant talking, we realised how much we had in common and how similar we were. So we met for a drink after he was done with work and I was done with the library. I was awkward but we got along great. A couple of days later we arranged drinks and a sleepover. During drinks I had second thoughts, and started texting my friends saying that I wasn’t sure I was attracted to him and felt like it was just friendly. I stayed over anyway. We watched two of my favourite movies, The Big Lebowski and Megamind. Things happened but we didn’t have sex. The next day he bought me breakfast and took me back to the library. Sounds great, right? We definitely had great friend potential, I wasn’t sure of my feelings further than that. Regardless, we kept meeting up after work and during lunches. We’d go for coffee, take walks around the city, hook up in bathrooms – it was fun and easy.

After a month of this, we finally had sex. In a bathroom on campus. I knew I shouldn’t have done it as soon as it was over. Whoops. I said that I didn’t want to sleep with someone who was sleeping with other people, so he said that he wouldn’t. In hindsight, I’m unsure why I said that. I didn’t have feelings for him beyond friendship, I think I just didn’t want to share.

The next day I was at drinks with my best friend. He came up on her Tinder. I told her to like him. They matched. He chatted. He lied. I was raged. I pretended everything was fine. I got him to come see me on campus with the promise of a blow job. I confronted him. He denied it. We were done. I went out and got blackout drunk.

A few days later he text me something about wanting to put his dick in my ass. Brilliant. We spoke the next day, he suggested make up sex. No. But then I thought about it and decided we could have sex without the friendship. I got him to come fuck me and walked off without any chat after. He text straight away to say it was a weird experience. Oh well. I stayed distant, he tried to be friendly.

Eventually, we fell back into a friendship. I don’t know how or why. I didn’t trust him. We then spent a week together, from morning ’til eve, studying and hooking up everywhere. Bad, bad choices. Having a friendship with someone you don’t trust is hard. I wanted to be friends with the boy who was basically my twin. I wanted to be friends with the boy who’d wait ’til I looked up from my work and then rip out pages of his textbook with his teeth and eat it to make me laugh. I wanted to be friends with the boy who’d sing along to Childish Gambino, Taylor Swift and the High School Musical soundtrack with me. But he was overshadowed by the boy who’d tell lies. He was overshadowed by the boy that I just couldn’t trust. How do you have a friendship with someone like that?

The answer is that you can’t. There’s just no way. A few days ago he came clean about a pointless lie that he’d been running for at least a month. A lie that I had never believed and was completely unnecessary. After this I told him that we couldn’t be friends because I didn’t trust him. As hard as I tried to ignore him, he wouldn’t let me. It seems I’m pretty weak like that. But yesterday it all blew up.

He told me he got back together with his ex-girlfriend 4 days after they actually had. In that time he had talked about having sex with me, asked for sexy snapchats, and sent the odd dick pick. That’s just not okay. Not to me and not to her. There were other things, too – but I’d be here forever if I wrote about every cuntish thing he did. If I wasn’t already 100% certain that there was no shred of the boy that I thought I’d been friends with in him, when he said

I value myself more than others so I do what I want. [Being a] cunt is a side effect

I knew I was done. You can’t come back from that.

He is essentially someone I should have cut out of my life months ago. And I knew that. But against my better judgement I gave him chance after chance. Of course it backfired on me. It was always going to. It makes me angry and sad. I’ve never ended a friendship before. Not intentionally, anyway. It’s different when friends drift apart slowly and you almost don’t realise it’s happened. Cutting out a friend who had become quite a big part of my life was and is hard. But it’s necessary.

If you are in a relationship – whether it be romantic, friendship, casual – and if it is not serving you as a person, if it’s not letting you grow and be the best version of yourself, then get out. Don’t waste time on people who don’t respect you, don’t value you, don’t put in what you do but expect you to do this for them. You are worth more than that, and so am I.

A Little Update

I finished my MSc two weeks ago and life has since slowed down significantly. Having no day to day purpose has definitely taken it’s toll on me. Looking for jobs when you still have no idea what it is you want to do is a depressing, uphill struggle. To think that I’ve only been in this situation for two weeks, and it could easily go on to be two months is more than I can bare. But, like I said, it’s only been two weeks; I’m not a lost cause yet. And as it’s only been two weeks, I’m not quite ready to write about the struggles of unemployment just yet.

Life hasn’t been all doom and gloom, though. I’ve managed to catch up with all the friends I neglected whilst working on my thesis, go to a gig, and spend time with my family. It’s been nice.

Let’s talk about the gig first. I saw James Blake at the Shepherd’s Bush Empire last week and he was literally incredible. The boy has an amazing voice. It sounds no different to how it does on his album. He played a good mixture of old and new songs, and his gorgeous cover of Joni Mitchell’s ‘A Case of You‘ (my favourite). I had shivers the entire time. What a babe.

I had gone with one of my best friends. He’s outgoing and crazy and I love him to pieces, but that night he was a hilarious mess. After a lot of wine and shots, he started asking all the couples (the place was filled with couples!) around us if they had done anal. When they said no, he started to preach. Why are the men in my life such active anal advocates?! It was inappropriate, but hilarious and a great night nonetheless.

One of the highlights of the fortnight would definitely be the little housemates reunion I had with the girls I lived with during my undergrad. We started the day brunching at My Old Dutch, because pancakes are obviously the best way to start the day. We had a slight mare over whether we should go for sweet or savoury ones, and as I am the most indecisive person on the planet, slight mare turned into huge mare. After much deliberation, I eventually settled on the savoury ‘Greek’ pancake. It was good, but I should have stuck to my usual apple and cinnamon. It comes with ice cream, after all.

After brunch we headed on down to The British Museum – who doesn’t love a free, indoor activity when it’s forecast to rain?! The British Museum is definitely my favourite, probably because it’s all rather anthropological – it even houses The Anthropology Library and Research Centre for the Royal Anthropological Institute! However, we spent little time looking at any ethnographic artifacts or learning about any cultures. Instead we mainly moved from room to room, corner to corner, gossiping about sex and boys. So unfortunately I came away with no great new knowledge to relay back to you all, but it was fun nonetheless.

We spent the rest of the day chatting over coffee, dinner, and drinks. It was beyond pleasant. Three months between catch ups really is too much.

As far as boys go, things are drying up again. I’ve not seen W in almost three weeks and all other potentials have fallen short. One boy told me that he didn’t like being ‘messed around’ by me. What had I done, you ask? Oh, nothing other than refuse to meet him for the first time in an unsafe place in the dark. I don’t want to end up in a suitcase, thanks.

I did get another message from J on Saturday which read:

Wanna play tonight? x

Ermmm, no, thanks. Like, obviously I’m amazing and you can’t get me out of your head, but enough’s enough. Why is it always the ones you don’t want that want you? Sigh.

Letting Go

I have problems with letting go. Of anything. I find it hard to accept change once I’m invested in a certain thing or situation. This includes everything from types of food to my recently finished thesis, from old friendships I know just aren’t worth hanging onto to people in my life I know are toxic. Let’s talk about that last one.

Toxic people come and go from our lives. Sometimes they go because we’re strong enough to push them out, and sometimes they go because they found someone else’s life to pollute. They come in the shape of friends, lovers, partners, and even family members. Sometimes it’s difficult to know that a person is toxic. Sometimes you know they’re toxic but you ignore it in hopes that things will be good again. I think everyone can relate to this – hanging on to something they know they should let go of. We do this because we remember the good surrounding people; the times they made us feel good, the times they were good to us, and the goodness they inspired in us. We disregard the times they make us feel bad, the times they are bad to us, and the badness they bring out of us because maybe it’s just a phase and the good times are just around the corner again.

At the end of my undergrad I became involved in such a thing. I call it a ‘thing’ because relationship just wouldn’t be appropriate. We were friends, so I guess you could call it a friendship, yet ‘thing’ still feels like a better fit. We were unbearably similar. It meant that everything was extreme; we could never just be. All of our worst traits were brought out and everything was a competition – who could be ruder, who could be more hurtful, who could care the least. And because neither of us were the type to talk about our feelings, none of this was supplemented with the knowledge that we did in fact care for one another. It was all guess work.

I’m not the type of person to play games – which is probably why I am horrific at dating. I don’t wait two hours before texting back and I don’t pretend I’m not free the first time someone asks to do something, I don’t play coy or pretend to be something I’m not. I’m unapologetically myself. If I come across as shy, it’s because I am. If I seem awkward, it’s because I am. If you think I’m rude, it’s because you’re either a bellend, or I like you and am comfortable.

That digression had a point, honestly. Our whole ‘thing’ was a game. And it tired me. But I let it carry on probably four months longer than it should have. Everyone around me told me to stop, and I knew they were right. He made me a version of myself that I didn’t like and he purposely made me feel bad about myself. It was a kind of toxic that simply needed to be cut, but I couldn’t do it. Despite all the game playing and the shit he put me through, with him I could be the most unedited, truest version of myself, whether it was a person I was proud of being or not. And it was hard to let go of that.

Of course, eventually, I did – that was a whole drama in itself. Obviously I felt better afterwards. I felt strong and empowered and proud of myself. Yet somehow I find myself making the same mistakes again and again. When will I learn?