My goodness, its been an excessively long time since I logged into my own little online world. I have been off the blogging radar for a while now, mostly due to a complete lack of motivation, but with a New Year must come a Fresh Start. So I am back, and I am back to do what I do best:
Rant about my life and all its nonsense … and mostly bitch about the Male Species.
Or, maybe just one male in particular this time; yes, thats right my invisible chums, I have achieved various things during my recent months of online silence, but the most surprising of all has to be bagging a boyfriend!
[Other achievements gained during this time include a promotion at work – pat on the back for me – and 57 heavy hangovers – just a rough calculation]
The last time I wrote to you my posts were becoming somewhat moody. 18 months I had been on the singles market; I had met the good (who never really turned out good) I’d met the bad (normally nutcases) and I’d met the dam right ugly, and even they were unreliable. I had attempted set-ups through my friends, online dating, even re-kindling old (burnt out) flames, and goodness knows what else. Yet still no sign of prince charming, not even a slightly dumbed down, less attractive, in-my-league prince charming. Until one not-so-special Friday evening, when I had been dragged out against my will by some friends, I randomly met him in a bar. A bar!? Why didn’t I think to look there? The good old fashioned way to meet someone. I’d almost given up hope you could meet a stranger in a bar. But there I was, September just gone, on a warm Friday evening, knocking back whisky & cokes in an overcrowded Rock bar in the heart of London – and I met the Beard.
Now, normally when I have an encounter with a man in a bar, I try way too hard to please them, agree with everything they say, possibly even embarrass myself by getting a little clingy … can you see why I stopped looking in Bars! Yawn. It had all gotten so predictable.
But not with the Beard. This was a very different meeting. Don’t worry, I’m not going to get all soppy, and tell a tale of how two souls destined to be together, met in a crowded room and fell in-love instantly. No. Quite the opposite. Because I was drunk, but he was even more so. And although I initially fancied the Beard, an hour in his company and I realised he was a worse drunk than I was. Nothing but a liability; spilling drinks, knocking into people and generally pissing people off (including me). He couldn’t remember my name, not even after the sixth time I had told him. He was stealing my drinks and refusing to buy me any back. Just a big tall handsome drunken liability. When I realised this, something must have happened – whether I let my guard down, or maybe I just decided that he was too drunk to pay me any attention – I suddenly stopped trying to impress him and actually started having fun with him. This changed things.
Two hours into his company, we were drinking rum on the night bus home together and having long hilarious discussions about Family Guy. Out of all the goodies, the baddies and the uglies that I’d dated over the previous 18 months, I’d never met anyone I felt so utterlly compelled to hang out with the way I felt around the Beard – fair enough we were highly intoxicated, him a far more than me, but what some people call drunk, I now like to call accidental chemistry!
Him being so drunk, I wasn’t sure if he would even remember me or remember our ‘accidental chemistry’, so it was a very pleasant surprise to hear from him straight away. It was an even nicer surprise to find out just how well we clicked in the sober world. And the rest as they say is history! Well, maybe. Sort of. I’m slowly discovering again that being in a relationship can be just as problematic as being single. I’m a woman, we are the deadliest and scariest of all the species – and we are never satisfied. We nag, we complain and we question everything, and no doubt that’s just some of the fun the future will bring for the Beard and me.
Watch this space chums!