Hey You

Hey you

Like my title? I'm impressed that I went to my lectures today
considering I'm still pissed, feeling very green and hugely embarrassed
and I want to crawl under a bridge and live like a troll for the rest
of my 20s

But anyway last night (and a bit before that... background stuff)

(Deep breath) Basically, I got back to London for my second year of uni
determined that I was gonna be sensible, mature, responsible and get a
first. Never spend any money, stop fantasising about a certain 18 year
old of my acquaintance and generally be a fine upstanding member of the
student community.

Ooops

Went to the lectures. Check
Organised my files. Check
Sorted my room. Check
Applied for jobs. Check.
Spent no money...... er -
Stopped thinking about sex and Michael in the same universe -
bugger

It's INTOLOERABLE!!! I was pissing MYSELF off never mind anyone else
(not that anyone knew.... then) I decided to get over it on Monday.
Decided he was wildly interested in me on Tuesday. Realised I didn't
have a hope Wednesday. (mainly cause Pat decided that she's bored with
Mark and wants... something) and had all this crushingly confirmed on
Thursday night. Bollocks. He's so horny it's not fair!

So.... to Thursday. Bought a pair of flashy shoes to get me in the
mood. Agonised over what to wear and ended up wearing a short skirt
with knee length boots (that I can hardly do up anymore it's
disgusting, I'm getting so fat) got Pat to do my hair, wore makeup,
(yes even the foundation you gave me) jewellery... the works. I looked
HOT!

Had a great afternoon forcing Michael to watch Dirty Dancing. Me,
Michael, Pat and Sue all watched it. I was in top form being very witty
and sarcastic and making everybody laugh (I love that you know - well
you knew that, it's a confidence thing)
Got dressed up, drank white wine (WHICH I KNOW I CAN'T HANDLE) got
pissed and TOLD Pat that I really like Michael. Mistake number
one.

Mistake number two was actually listening to her advice.

Basically she was very apologetic, saying she had no idea I liked him
and that she would back off except, oops, they'd snogged on today night
(ouch......go back and look at my weekly summary above and you'll see I
mean OUCH!)

She told me to go for it. That I don't talk to him enough, I have to
flirt, be tactile and clingy (okay I'm paraphrasing but that's how I
read it.....Can YA SEE where this is going yet??) She then proceeded to
rush away so that I could do this except, oh yeah, we're in the middle
of SOHO and it's about as safe as a lit cigarette in a lung cancer ward
(though admittedly not as funny). First thing I did was send Michael
after her for Christ's sake... great plan Pat...yeah.

Anyhow. I tried. I really did. But looking back I must have seemed like
a TWAT. I spent the whole night constantly following, touching and
generally annoying him. Which AT THE TIME seemed like I was making
progress...... he seemed to stay with me more than
Pat.....unfortunately I now think that that's because I was a
liability...(he doesn't get drunk and babysits everyone, in a non
patronising way, god he's lovely - did I mention that I'm still
pissed?)

WORST IS NOT OVER but I wanna hear your thoughts so far....

Okay I'm waiting.

Stop reading this and email me back.

Damnit Woman.........

Part Two - the worst is yet to come

Okay. So there I was happily dancing looking like a cross between a she
- witch and a teaspoon (don't ask me why I just like the imagery) when
Pat and Sue start snogging (er as a joke apparently) HOW DO I COMPETE
WITH THAT? Michael buggers off to watch; I get pissed off; go and buy
some tequila (oh yeah that was a brilliant idea by the way) and when I
come back Pat and Michael have gone home, leaving me with Sue (and
Chris-the-insensitive-sleazy-unreliable-exflatmate-that-you-fancied)

Sue and I down two tequilas each in succession (I bought 4, for some
reason probably best that I don't remember) and go back to dancing only
now I think to myself ?.

"Okay I'm gonna pull. I'm fucked off and I'm gonna pull tonight no
matter what" (didn't by the way, could have, nearly did but didn't
THANK GOD) No that isn't the great emergency I haven't shagged???.
anyone????unfortunately.

Soooooooo. To my rapidly frying brain it seems a brilliant idea to
dance with the only guy there that I would never, under any
circumstances, not even when hell froze over and cracked like the bad
dude in Terminator Two, would EVER snog LET ALONE anything else because
I have TASTE, and standards and things like that.

I.e.
Chris-the-insensitive-sleazy-unreliable-exflatmate-that-you-fancied

Big mistake. Huge. I have to go shopping now. A la pretty woman.

God I don't want to continue. It's too hard and I'm gonna need
therapy.

Wait. This IS Therapy.

Okay to continue this story to its humiliating fruitition.

I DIDN'T SNOG CHRIS. I just want to clarify this point. I did, however,
flirt with, come onto, kiss the neck of (twice) and generally act like
a complete slut with the WORST man alive.

Okay? I'm blocking it out now.

Blocking what out? Good it's worked.

Now. The reason that I didn't snog the worst man in the world last
night is not because I suddenly had an epiphany and realised I was
making a terrific error, no no no it's because and only because, it was
3am and the lights came on and the moment (THANK CHRIST) was broken.
Gone now, lost forever into the ether of experience and (please please
Allah, Buddha and anyone else who might be listening, PLEASE) NEVER to
return.

Okay. I suddenly wake up (metaphorically speaking) grab Pat's coat (and
Pat) and leg it out of there as fast as I can.

Hop into a taxi, in which Pat promptly throws up and passes out. I'm
fucked, can barely see, am battling nausea as overpowering as a tsunami
wave and trying to remember where the FUCK I live. While at the same
time placate the cabby that, yes I will pay for the cleaning and no,
Pat will not do it again (she does by the way)

The whole miserable taxi riding experience costs me ninety quid ?.
FUCK

We get to the house (finally) I pay the driver his extortion money
(hard earned by the sweat of my student loan) gather up Pat, Pat's bag,
Pat's shoes, Pat's phone and drag all of these things out of the taxi.
Pat falls down.

WITH HER HEAD ON THE ROAD. HER NECK ON THE CURB INBETWEEN THE TWO
WHEELS AND THE BASTARD STARTS TO DRIVE OFF.

Jesus I was scared.

I screamed at her to get up, him to stop, ripped her away ?..Not an
easy task as she's got a good eight inches on me, and I'm
paralytic.

Help her crawl into the house where she promptly collapses on the floor
(we live two flights up) the boys? Tom and a mate of his try and get
her upstairs, and she puking and crying?. I run up bang on Pat's door
for Michael (who was sleeping there?. Mmm a clue?) to help and then
collapse sobbing on the floor where I stay for the rest of the night
(say 5 hours) except for the occasional tantrum or bout of throwing up
as I finally gave into the crushing nausea.

Basically I looked as sexy as a tramp only without a tramp's standards
of personal hygiene.

I even went to sleep on the floor of the toilet (quite a neat trick
actually - you'll understand when you see it) and told Michael to fuck
off when he tried to help me to bed.

Pat spent the night running back between me and Sue (when I wasn't
accusing her of being a selfish bitch for leaving us there) and Michael
stayed with Sue all night cause they were afraid she'd choke on sick in
her sleep.

Soooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

That's all folks

What's the verdict? Is it time for extensive cosmetic surgery and a new
passport?

I need the harsh honest truth first and then sympathy and best friend
stuff after okay?

Love ya