Missing

Okay, as I've mentioned in passing, Boyf is in France right now. He's working on the house my parents bought at the beginning of last year. The one that needed only cosmetic work. He's ripping out the ceiling because all the beams have to be replaced. They're riddled with woodworm and the upper floors of the house could collapse at, uh, basically any moment.

The past few days, I've had the house to myself. Until I had my bad dream last night and reacted like a total fool, I was loving it. (I'm back to loving it now, I just needed a warm body to press myself into to make the real world seem more solid; it's nice to have somebody you can wake up at 5 am.) Apart from that, I really enjoyed coming home last night to an empty house. My sister picked me up from work, because she's amazing. I walked in, got my things ready for work the next morning, made pizza, put on my pyjamas, and watched some Sex and the City repeats. It felt good. I was alone with my thoughts. Nobody was yammering in my ear. I could listen to music until 1 am. I could text my friends late at night without being complained at. If I'd wanted to, I could have cleaned the house from top to bottom or painted my nails without anybody criticising me for starting things at weird times.

I need my space. I like my own company. I enjoy making my own decisions and doing things on a whim.

Boyf called me in work last night. It was great to hear his voice. I got the stomach flip. He asked me if I minded if he stayed longer, and I told him of course not. Even though he's so far away, I know he's still mine. I have no insecurities about us. I can both miss him and appreciate the time apart. It's good. It's a good place we're in.

Je Reviens

Saturday, I went to see this.

I was pretty much expecting it to blow and went for nostalgic purposes, but it was decent enough and me and Dedalus had a laugh over it. Splinter's voice is just wrong. His accent is slurred: sensei had been at the sake. Not a patch on the old school films though, there weren't as many one-liners as I remember, and April had turned into some sort of Indiana Jones type figure. They left room for a sequel.

After the film, we went for milkshakes and Dedalus sprung that old chestnut: did I say anything stupid when we went out? on me about five times. Then he walked me to meet Boyf at La Tasca. Not weird in the least!

When I walked into the bar and saw Boyf waiting for me, I actually got this warm fuzzy feeling inside. I thought, damn, you're gorgeous. My boyfriend is seriously hot. I don't know how the fuck I scored him. We went for Mexican food and got drunk on a bottle of wine. Checked out the Everyman bar but weren't very impressed. Seem to remember him annoying me in the taxi on the way home by involving me in an argument about racism with the driver as if I was some sort of representative of all things politically correct. He thinks I'm naive because I disagree with him whenever he makes a generalisation.

Swings and roundabouts, eh?

Sunday we went for a bike ride in the park, which was lovely. Today, I am totally meant to be studying, but have spent the day looking for something to wear when I go out for my birthday next week. That's a whole 'nother can of worms.

I'm not thrilled about turning 25, but I much prefer it to the alternative of not turning 25.

Oh, also, I saw The Return, a movie which should be avoided at all costs. It was soooo slow, without any genuine shocks or surprises, and left me completely unmoved and uninterested. Okay, so I wasn't really expecting anything wonderful when I sat down to watch it, but even I enjoyed House of Wax. I will say one thing though; I really love Sarah Michelle Gellar's hair colour in it.

Although, judging from this picture it looks like blondes do have more fun.

Amy Rocks the House

OMG, Amy Winehouse was AMAZING! I went to see her at the Liverpool Academy last night. The beehive was bigger than I've ever seen it, which was good because it meant more of her was visible to me, being a short arse (or three and a half apples tall, according to 'Muffin's measurements. Have to admit he has a good eye, guessing my vital stats in one, so I'll defer to his superior knowledge.) I had the usual problem of viewing the gig between the bobbing heads and various haircuts of those in front of me, and spending half the night on tippy toe. But it was plain to see from even my vantage point that Amy is getting Olsen Twin skinny. She has the tiniest little waist ever, and her arms are starting to look a bit Nicole Richie. Size Zero can not support all that hair, Amy, s'all I'm saying.

Anyway, the whole set was brilliant. She has the coolest and most enthusiastic backing singers in the whole wide world. I want to go again right now; I'd go just to see them. Her voice was amazing. She incorporated a bit of Lauryn Hill's Doo Wap (That Thing) into the show, and finished with The Zutons' Valerie. Girl knows her audience. I properly love her. Seriously: it's up there with Take That.

Her support act was rather good as well; Lila tried to get tickets just to see them. Check them out here: Mr Hudson and the Library.

After the gig, Boyf wanted to go to the bar where Mybug works ('cos if I've been somewhere he hasn't he sulks about it.) So off we toddled. I spotted him behind the bar but town was booming and he was really busy so I didn't say hi straight away. He looked kinda handsome.

"This is my church." - Faithless

We ordered some drinks and pinched a 'reserved' booth. A gang of girls joined us. Boyf is pretty trashed already at this point, since he has been drinking three times faster than me. He was trying to order some more beverages when Mybug walked past. I called out to him and he smiled, said "All right girl!" and dived on top of me. Girls looked bemused. He asked what we wanted and I introduced him to the Boyf. He brought us some drinks over - I was drinking £6 cosmopolitans! - and refused to take the cash for them. Then when Boyf went the loo he leaned over the bar for a little chat and a kiss. No tongues!

Had a giggle over Boyf asking the toilet attendant if he had any "Muscular."

Attendant: No... I've got some "Masculine."
Boyf: Oh... *realising that's what he'd meant* Nah, I'll leave it.

I realise that's a total location joke, but oh, how we laughed!

Taxi home, portion of chips, bed. Pure class, eh?!

Cherub

I thought I would wish everyone out there a Happy Valentine's Day a leetle bit early while I get the chance. I hope to be busy lip locking and playing the harp tomorrow night. Picked Boyf's card up on the way to work this morning, but have an embarrassing lack of gifts since I'm getting him football tickets but he hasn't decided what match he wants to go to yet. Boo. Will make up for it in other ways.

In work at the moment, with three and a half hours of boredom stretching out in front of me. It's so bad I might actually use my initiative and get stuck into some work I never get timetabled enough time to do... Oh my, I'm slowly turning into 'Muffin. Who, by the way, does the funniest frickin' Elmo dance I have ever seen. We're doing lunch tomorrow.

I informed the boyfriend of my Mybug plans this morning over tea.

Boyf: Leaving me for a younger man eh?
Chica: Yep *cough* ten years younger *cough*
Boyf: You can't leave me for a ginge. Anyone else, but not a ginge.
Chica: Born in nineteen eighty seven *cough*

I have the most laid back boyfriend in the world. It's kind of great.

Balance

I figure, since I've been doing a lot of complaining recently, that I should let you in on how great my boyfriend is for a change. This morning, he got up, made me a cup of tea, nipped to the shops and bought breakfast supplies, woke me up, made me laugh, made me a BLT sandwich to eat and another sandwich for later, put some little chocolates in with my lunch (which I then threw out but still) and waved me off as I left for work. Cute huh?

Plus, whenever he sees the mobile phone advert with the wind up toy of two figures hugging, he says it is us and sings the song to me (let me call you sweetheart.) Well, at me.

Yesterday, he picked me up from work. In the car on the way home we were chatting as normal about various things, and then in a jokey, good natured way he said to me: "I found a piece of paper in the house before with PR (Alfie's initials) wrote on it and then scribbled out." (What am I, 14?) I went, "PR??" in a high pitched, unconvincing voice, and then he said Alfie's first and second name, then "Don't be writing his name, only write mine," in a perfectly pleasant tone. I managed a feeble, "Okay," and then he was normal with me for the rest of the night.

He's either the most understanding man in the world, or I don't know what.

Chin Up

Gah, my boyfriend is annoying the crap outta me. Is it awful that I completely enjoyed being alone last night? I liked being able to do whatever I wanted without deferring to somebody else or checking to make sure he was properly entertained, and I even enjoyed cooking and eating alone, which I usually hate. Then he came home at 1 am drunk as a skunk, with this horrible mask of a face he gets when he's really hammered, and I just felt immediately harangued and stressed out. This morning, I got up, and he'd eaten the last of everything. He had the television blaring in the living room and was asleep on the couch. I made him some tea, tidied up the kitchen, and switched on the heating because the house was freezing. Meanwhile, he goes upstairs, snaffles the duvet off my bed and climbs back under it onto the couch watching The Discovery Channel.

So now I am annoyed and blogging in my bedroom to get away from the noise of the TV, I'm hungry, and I'm cold because he has my duvet, and he switched the radiator off in my room!

In other news, I just took Goldberg's depression test online - it popped up on the MSN homepage, don't worry - and while I really don't think clickable tests you take in your pyjamas drinking coffee are especially credible, it's kind of worrying that on this scale, I scored a 70.

0 - 9 Depression unlikely
10 - 17 Possibly minor depression
18 - 21 On the verge of depression
21 - 35 Minor to moderate depression
36 - 53 Moderate to severe depression
54+ Severe depression

You have the symptoms of severe depression. The condition seems to cause serious problems in your everyday life, and you should consult your doctor immediately. Your boyfriend is obviously taking the piss while the man you really desire is out of your reach. You probably work in a dead end job and are being ignored by the tutor who is supposed to be mentoring you. Sucks to be you, love.

PS You are in danger of becoming a whiny cow permanently. Suggested treatment: Wondy gives you her new shoes.

Okay, I feel better now. I think I'll go buy some groceries, do my nails, try out my GHD straighteners and get ready for a night on the tiles. Heck, I might even go for a run. That'll show him!

Chica's Labyrinth

I'm sitting at that ruddy desk again, NOT thinking about his shirts or the way he smells, honest. I have thirty minutes of work left and then I am outta here. I think I will be taking my man out to dinner; had an invitation from Mybug to go see Pan's Labyrinth but I'm tired and Boyf needs cheering up.

We didn't go out at the weekend but he had a very good excuse of work troubles that could not be sulked about. I still sulked a little since I kind of saw it happening and he waited until there was far too little notice for me to organise anything with someone else. I think he wanted me to stay in and be miserable with him... I mean, be a supportive girlfriend.

According to 'Muffin's sources, Alfie's birthday is either today or Thursday, but his sources are questionable in my opinion. However, he put forward the dilemma of: what if Alfie is out celebrating his birthday the same night we're out celebrating 'Muffin's? (We're going to the place he goes every week. Before you say anything, pass remarkable, 'Muffin chose it!) I was going to invite the Boyf but if Alfie is there I'll be all anxious and I don't wanna ruin 'Muffin's night. Plus, Dedalus knows I am out with my friends and said he might pop in with his friends. It's a moral minefield of men. I still might take Boyf though. Maybe it will lessen the anxiety rather than increase it?

I also need to decide what to wear at some point. I thought I had settled on the green wrap dress but I'm thinking of wearing this other one I have... and I really want an excuse to buy some new boots. So far, I'm resisting. But we all know how bad I am at that.

Still Crazy

I'm home! Arrived back in Liverpool at two this morning. I have to say I was quite surprised by how much I missed the place. I've always thought of myself as a bit of a country girl at heart but I really missed the city. Maybe it was because I knew I was missing out on all the January bargains? Maybe it was because I couldn't check my email? Or maybe this is all part of my recent metamorphosis. I really hope I don't end up like Gregor Samsa.

So, I shall reiterate my Happy New Year of the last post, since it is now actually 2007. What what what? And in this year, I shall be 25. Oh My God. Time for some changes methinks.

Back to work tomorrow. I am dreading it, particularly the sound of my alarm clock in the morning, but in a weird way it feels good to be back and work is part of that. Now that I'm part time, it doesn't totally rule my life anymore so I can't grumble too much. And it's kind of nice that it feels good to be back home; I was looking forward to getting back to my life and sorting things out. It was only a week, but I missed my friends and my city and to a certain extent my routines. Who would have thought it eh?

As for the Alfie stuff, it is really getting to be too much for me. So I'm going to try and spend more time doing things with people who actually care about me. The real dilemma in all of this is what I should do about my future with Boyf. He wants me to move in with him this year and really I need to be clear in my mind that that's what I want before I commit. The trouble is that I really don't think I am ready. I do want to move house, but if I were to move somewhere else with MJ I think Boyf would be pissed off. And to be honest, I'm still holding out for Alfie, even though I know I shouldn't. I am trying to move on but it's tough.

So - yeah. That's my stuff. I've already caught up with some of the action I missed in the regular reads, and plan to catch up on the rest during work time tomorrow!

Boy Shopping

Today, I took Boyf clothes shopping. I picked up some little bits of jewellery for my sister and Bratz Twister for my niece, but then dedicated the rest of the trip to kitting out my boyfriend with some stylish items for Christmas.

He was relatively well behaved as I thrust several shirts and pairs of jeans into his unresisting arms and marched him off to the changing rooms. He bought himself a pair of Timberland jeans and a dark green French Connection t-shirt in Lewis'. Then a pair of brown shoes. I suggested that he needed another pair of darker jeans for evening wear, and so we trotted off to French Connection and I rooted out the jeans least likely to offend his delicate fashion sensibilities (buckles? gay! faded patches or customisation of any kind? gay! pockets with buttons? gay! I will never get him to wear pink.) He tried on a pair and liked them, and scooped up a blue and brown striped shirt too. So I bought them for him. Next, I took him to Zara and chose a couple of shirts. After a bit of deliberation, he deigned to try one on and it looked really sexy on him. He gave it the seal of approval and so I bought him that too. The final item was a belt to match his shoes, which he picked out all by himself, and got totally the right colour! A proud moment for me. I felt just like Trinny and/or Tranny in that final moment of What Not To Wear when it all suddenly comes together and one of them has to cry and/or grab someones boobs and declare them fabulous.

He did complain about having to pay fifteen pounds for a belt though. This is after we'd shelled out over two hundred pounds between us on his outfits. When I told him that it was reasonable and the belt I wanted from All Saints was £35, he told me I'd been spending far too much time with Alfie and he'd influenced my perspective on the value of clothes! I rejoined that it was an extremely unfair claim since I hadn't bought the dress I LOVE in French Connection because it cost £130 and I am supposed to be saving to buy a car next year.

The dress (pictured above, but in a different colour) is lovely but not a patch on the elusive Monsoon dress which was only £60! (It is also called a 'serpent' dress. When I hear that I imagine the snake off Jungle Book rasping 'trussst in meeeeee, jussst in meee'.) So I decided to be sensible. Although, if I was going out with Alfie I'd spend that much on his Christmas present, so surely I could just cut out the middleman and buy it for myself? Ahem. Rhetorical question.

I still don't have a bag to match my shoes for the Christmas do though. Speaking of which, once we'd bought his clothes, Boyf was suddenly up for going to the party and asked me to get him a ticket. Now, he'd expressed very little interest up until that point so obviously retail therapy is not entirely lost on him. But I had to tell him that I didn't think I would be able to get him a ticket at such late notice (true), because my cover for going MIA last Friday was that I met Lila and got drawn into one of her crazy nights out, which would be the first thing he'd talk to her about. And whilst I realise that one day the truth may come out, I'd really rather it wasn't in front of the entire University staff and that Alfie wasn't within arms length of the Boyf.

Actually, the way I feel about him at the moment, that last bit would probably be okay with me :P

Picture Perfect

Lots of blogging today. I'm thinking maybe I need a therapist? But it's much cheaper if I just write about this shit and imagine somebody saying: 'and how do you feel about that?' every now and then. Sorry. Them's the brakes. You could club together and get me some therapy vouchers or something for Christmas? Or, alternatively, you could just click 'next blog' and be done with me.

This blog needs a Sex and the City makeover. I could jazz this drivel up a little and make it less pathetic. But I really do not have the energy or the motivation. I'm here for catharsis. I need an outlet for the crazy lady I am fast becoming. I don't know why you're here. If you are still reading, then you are far too kind. Mother Teresa would have bitch slapped me with a wet kipper and told me to get a grip by now.

Today, I took myself off to have some photographs printed off my camera. I got a stack of about 180 photo's developed. They are lovely. I'd forgotten how nice it is to hold a memory in your hand. Seeing them on the screen is no match for it. The pictures look more real somehow, more detailed. I was very pleased with the results. I still had pictures on there from our trip to Toulouse about a year and a half ago. And of course, the pics some of you will have seen on Flickr of 'Muffin's 'big night out.' Yes, I have physical photographs of Alfie now. That's gonna help me get over him sooooo much.

Meh, he's not that effin good looking (somewhere in my head, I just guffawed at myself.)

Anyway, I had a point somewhere. Oh yeah. Then I ate pizza with my boyfriend, before tucking him into bed and watching a romcom I've seen before. There was no great message in the film or anything and it was pretty standard fluff, but it did make me realise something. You are meant to be with somebody who makes you happy. It was a surreal moment for me to realise this because it was like a revelation. Of course I knew this already, but in all my frustrated musings about what I should do about my situation I never once considered perhaps the most important aspect of it all: happiness. Yes, I've been very selfish lately and thought about what I want and how to get it. And I have thought about what regrets I may have even if I got what I think I want. But I have never sat down and thought about it in terms of: am I happy with Boyf? Would Alfie make me happy? Would being single make me happy? Do I make either of them happy?

If I asked Boyf if he was happy with me he would say yes without a single moment of hesitation. And he would mean it. Now I'm not saying he's perfect; nobody is. But I can't explain to you what a catch this man is. He has his bad habits, and we fight, and yes, I get bored of us (seven years.) But he is completely devoted to me, he's phenomenally gorgeous, he's thoughtful in little ways like making me cups of tea, and he sobbed when Puppy died. I think myself bloody lucky to have met such an amazing man and I kick myself sometimes when I stop and think about how much he loves me. Now, let me ask the question, since I know there are people literally all over the world looking for this very man: why doesn't all of that make me happy?

Answers on a postcard. Spoilt bitch, seems to be the most obvious!

Close Encounters

So, today I went shopping again with very good intentions of spending money on other people and getting in a few Christmas pressies. I could not resist going into Faith and trying on some boots. They were £30 off, come on! But the colour I wanted were still full price. So I left them. But I can't promise I won't return.

On the way to look at something for my dad, I asked the Boyf, my very unwilling shopping buddy for the day, if he minded if we popped into River Island. I knew what I was looking for, so I walked straight through the shop to the back wall and straight to the end of the jewellery section, the Boyf trailing stoically behind me. I heard a voice say "Hello." It took a moment to register with me and then I heard it again. I turned. It was Himself, wearing his new leather jacket. "200 quid for that?!" I said, rather undiplomatically. He laughed. I introduced him to the Boyf. They shook hands right in front of my face. I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me. In that moment, I felt like the lowest of the low. I thought: this is not my life.

We stumbled over a couple more niceties and then his friend came out of the changing rooms and we bid each other farewell. (He didn't introduce me to his - female - friend.) I was giggling because I was nervous. I covered my mouth with my scarf and pretended to be really preoccupied with looking at purses. Boyf commented that Himself's hand was really sweaty.

I picked up a heart pendant and said I just wanted to look at a handbag downstairs. I picked up a red sequinned purse and tried to open it and the clasp fell off onto the floor. I laughed and picked it up and noticed Himself again. I pretended not to see him, and headed straight for the tills. On the way out, I kept my eyes to the floor, but I knew he was still there. Boyf later told me he'd been standing by the counter, striking a pose. He said he just stared at him.

The weird thing is, Boyf took an instant dislike to him. He described him as "an arrogant arsehole" who "looked gay" and "loved himself." Once we were home, in discussion with MJ, he told him that he was "weird looking with a bigger fod than Ant & Dec put together" and ridiculed him for spending £200 on a coat. MJ pointed out that Boyf had spent more than that on his North Face coat. "Yeah," Boyf said, "but that's useful, I could wear that in the Antarctic. I'd like to see him in the Antarctic!" He also said he made sure he gave him a very firm handshake and squeezed his hand really hard.

Jesus!

Before we came home Boyf and I went for something to eat. But I couldn't relax because my heart was racing after the encounter and I was trying desperately to talk about normal things. Boyf kept asking what I was thinking about and teased me that I was thinking about Himself and reckoned I fancied him. I replied with a very unconvincing "Shut up." I sent Himself a text saying: shit sorry, I think I blacked out for a second there. He replied: It's ok. You didn't act at all strange. I saw you as soon as you walked in and it was as though you just walked right through the shop and stood next to me. I was chuckling. As Guillermo said, chuckling so much his hands were sweating!

That was just the weirdest thing ever. It really was like it was meant to happen.

Oh, and then he sent me a picture of him in his Calvins. As you do.

What kind of fuckery is this?

After a week of such romantic heartache - I must now rather morosely add that at this time last week I was avoiding the clutches of Himself - I should by rights be out on the town drinking large cocktails with girl friends, or at least the Gay Brigade. But noooo. It was the Boyf's birthday this week (I know!) and he turned 29. So, plan was I would take him out tonight for a slap up meal and a few drinks. Then it rained on my parade. (Well, actual rain, but not so much a parade as an oh-fuck-what-do-I-do-with-this-new-hairstyle? moment.) Whilst I was getting ready, the Boyf cancelled on me due to the admittedly abhorrent weather. So we stayed in, watched X factor and Parky, and he drank beer. Woohoo!

MJ begged me to go out, but I felt a little mean on the Boyf, since it was meant to be his birthday night. Even though it was him cancelling the night out, I felt like I should at least keep him company rather than running off with a tall handsome blonde and his sexy boyfriend for a night of fun, frolics and talking about men. Oh okay, one man.

Look I know I've crossed the line into psycho but I just cannot tear my mind off the idiot. I am attempting to cure my condition with the use of sad songs tempered by kick ass songs, searching for the perfect look-what-you're-missing-bucko outfit to wear for his leaving do, and I even attempted to pretend everything was okay and pay some attention to the boyfriend (which ended in absolute disaster by the way.) But until I'm over it I'm just going to have to indulge the hysterical harpie inside and then, when my judgement isn't clouded by the memory of his face so close to mine and the fact that I didn't kiss him, then I will decide what I want to do about Boyf.

Because really, even though I really fancy the arse off Himself, I could have had him last Saturday. And something stopped me. Some thin layer of the morals my mother instilled in me clung on perhaps, but there was also the strange feeling that I didn't want to go there. Now, after all my fantasising and stolen looks and especially all the banging on about him, what the bloody hell was that about? And I'm just talking about kissing here, because I'd never go there. I didn't even want to kiss the guy when it was offered to me on a plate! I turned him down! The guy I'm now fantasising about kissing! WTF?

You know when you're a teenager and you fancy a pop star, and you're really convinced that you're like in love with them, when really your hormones are just all over the place and you need a safe person to focus all that energy on, a person completely unattainable and remote, somebody you don't even know so that you can sort of dream up their personality to suit your taste? Well, is that what's happening here? Or, to put it another way, is Himself actually Mark Owen? Am I wanting a new life and dramatising it all into this 'affair' with a man very different from the Boyf - in good and bad ways - so that I can imagine an alternative lifestyle, but without the fear of being alone?

Or am I just plain batshit crazy?

Your guess is as good as mine.

Cruel Intentions

Grrr, my hangover has turned into a head cold - I'm legitimately sick. But I'm still in work. Can't let a little touch of flu keep me from the sight of Himself now can I? Shame I look like shit though.

Still waiting for my orders to arrive, even though I paid for express delivery! Also trying to organise a night out on Saturday. Well, I say that, I haven't actually tried to do anything yet, I've invited nobody except Studmuffin and Heidi, I just keep thinking how I need to sort something out. And there's a real impetus to do so now since Himself told 'Muffin he'd meet up with us!

So needs to happen!

Also had this conversation with the Boyf the other day:

Chica: My sister's husband won't let her go to Bristol to visit her friend.
Boyf: He's an arse.
C: Would you let me go away with my mates?
B: What do you mean let? I wouldn't 'let' you, you can do whatever you like.
C: Aw. I know.
B: Would you mind if I went away with mine?
C: Nope; I trust you.
B: So when are you going away with 'Muffin then?
C: Ha.
B: I don't care as long as you're good.
C: Oh, I will be. I'll make him use protection.

Good job he's not the jealous type eh?

Dead Zone

Okay, I'm reaching the point where I know I need to give myself a good talking to. Why am I getting so carried away with this stupid crush over a guy I don't know very well, a guy that the Boyf is ten times better looking than, and probably ten times more of a man than? Do I even like the guy himself at all, or does he represent something to me?

What something? He's a flash git, the type of guy I think girls are stupid to like, he spends a fortune on clothes, needs to be seen in all the right places, and has a roving eye for the ladies. I don't want to stereotype him totally, because I think there are hidden depths there; he's lovely to the 'Muffin and was in a five year relationship, he can't understand why people are scared of commitment. He's exciting, and he has a lot of get-up-and-go.

Let's examine the weekend I've spent with Boyf so far. Friday night, I could've gone out with MJ, but I stayed at home with the Boyf so we could spend time together. This was my own choice, but I did sacrifice a good night out so that I could see him. And what did we do? Well. He watched Taggart. I couldn't bring myself to watch Taggart so I blogged and chatted to 'Muffin on MSN. Then I got bored and decided to sleep. This is when Boyf chose to come upstairs, after having a few cans of lager, and watch TV. While I was trying to sleep. I didn't say anything. When he disappeared for a bit, I turned off the TV. The room was dark. I heard him come back in. He was eating something. Then a crash as he knocked a glass of water over the TV. He swore, had a go at me "this room is exactly how you want it all the time", and slammed the lightswitch back on. He looked at the damage, then left it, switched the light back off, and carried on chewing. I got up and cleaned up the mess. Then I got back into bed. I lay there fuming. He started to snore.

This morning. He acted like nothing happened so I followed suit. It wasn't an actual argument, so let's just forget about it. We decided to go shopping because we had to pick up a couple of birthday presents, and I wanted shoes. We drove into town. Once there, and in the first shop I went into, Boyf started to complain. I suggested he went and got his dad's present while I tried on some shoes, and to call me when he'd finished and we'd meet back up. Off he went. I popped into two more shops and decided to call him, when I noticed that he'd tried to call me but I hadn't heard it because of the music in the shops. It must have been about twenty minutes since we'd split up. "Where are you?" I said when he picked up. He'd gone back to the car. He'd alread paid the parking fee. He'd bloody left me in town!

I was like: "Are you serious?" But whatevs, I hung up on him, ignored most of the rest of his calls, carried on shopping. It was horrible. I was in a foul mood. I bought one skirt and some perfume for my niece's birthday. Boyf called me and offered to pick me up, I told him I'd get the bus. Because of the match traffic, I was stuck on there for ages. I got home at about half six. Boyf saw me getting off the bus and caught up with me. He couldn't understand why I was angry and asked if we were still going to the pictures. Obviously, I responded calmly and sweetly: "I'm never going anywhere with you again! Get lost!" He refused, and followed me to the door, where I demanded his key. "So you can open the door and then fuck me off?" he asked. "No," I explained, "I mean, give me the key back." He did and stomped off. Then he turned up like an hour later asking again if we were going to the pictures. Like, get the message.

So now it's Saturday night and I'm home, again.

I wonder why I'm allowing myself to get so carried away with this crush?

Relationships aren't always easy. I know this. And what I've described above isn't really a huge deal. But it's getting to be like this more and more. Sometimes, I think the Boyf is the most amazing boyfriend in the world. People in work tease me about him being the perfect man, and nobody comparing to him. And then sometimes we go through phases like this, when I can't get him to make any sort of effort. I'm so tired of trying. If this is going to get fixed, it's down to him this time. I'm keeping my options open - after all, you only live once, and I'm tired of wasting my youth.

For Whom the Bell Tolls

Congratulations go out to my friend Mrs. De Winter, who will be an actual missus by this time next year! I am chuffed to bits that she has found a lovely bloke to settle down and start a little family with. She sent me some really cute photos of her, her man and her gorgeous pup the other day and is doing so well. I love it when friends get in touch with such good news (she lives in Cumbria.)

I should also extend my congrats to Jojo who got engaged to her fella a couple of weeks before I went away.

It seems like wedding fever at the mo' with quite a few people I know either tying the knot themselves or getting hauled off to weddings right left and centre. Mrs. W also wrote in an email earlier this week:

"This time next year I'll be Mrs. W*****! Am I old enough to be "Mrs W*****"? What's Boyf's surname-I forgot? Are there any wedding bells for you? Maybe this will serve as a hint for him."

Well, I would just like to say that I will never be a Mrs. Anything as long as I can help it. I have always said I will keep my maiden name and that any children I have will also have my name. Now this isn't in accordance with some feminist ideal I have set for myself, as my surname has a patriarchal lineage of it's own in any case - being my dad's name, his father's name, his father before that, etc. I once had this discussion with my mum, who suggested I take her surname instead, but then that's her father's name, so there is really no escaping the male dominance of family names. But I don't see why if I should get married I would have to change my name while Boyf would just keep the name he's had from birth. Also, I am very proud to belong to my family and of being my grandfather's granddaughter, so would like to keep the name as a testament to him.

Funnily enough this topic came up the other day while I was having lunch with Studmuffin, and he was appalled that I intended to give my kids my surname. We eventually decided that since we had such opposing opinions on the subject that we should simply agree to disagree and cancel all our plans to have children together. I told him the same thing I always tell the Boyf: any kids he gives birth to can gladly have his last name.

As for this 'hint' business, I think I am way too young to get married, so any hints the Boyf might be getting from me would only convince him not to bother!

The One

Recently I had a conversation with someone about life's funny coincidences. We all have our own experiences of them, little twists of fate that seem perfectly random yet they reunite us with old friends or drop an opportunity into our laps. One of the first movies I went to see on a date was Sliding Doors. I really liked the concept of the movie, that just by missing a train the course of our whole lives could change. It can be a bit scary too if you think about the implications of every decision we ever make. For example, seeing that film inspired my friend Li to copy Gwyneth's hairstyle, and she looked fab. But if I had made the same decision? Now that would have been SCARY.

One of the most bizarre coincidences that ever happened to me was when I was 17. Years before, I'd picked up an old astrology book at a second hand book fair. It was full of all kinds of things, about mapping your birth chart (the position of the planets when you were born), numerology, handwriting analysis etc. The numerology section used your name and birthdate to give you an insight into your character and the possibilities for your future. Now, it's not that I'm a great believer in this sort of thing but I try to keep an open mind and mostly I just think it's a bit of fun. Ultimately, I think we all control (to a certain extent) who we are and where we're going. Anyway, a few weeks after I met the love of my life I came across the book again tucked away in a storage crate at the back of my wardrobe. I told my boyfriend about the fun, silly nights I'd had with my friends trying out all the different things in there and he asked me to tell him his future. The easiest thing to do was the numerology of his name and birthdate, so I turned to that section and got out a pen and paper. Then I noticed something and could not believe what I saw. There was no need for me to work out the numerology of my boyfriend's name. It was already in the book as the example they used to show you how to do it. My boyfriend didn't believe me and thought I was playing a trick on him at first. It's not like he has the most unusual of names, but I still think it's kind of funny that even though I didn't know it at the time, an astrology book I picked up second hand told me the name of my first love.

Lust for Glorious

Looks like Sienna just walked in.

So how was your weekend? I had a total laze-fest, it was glorious. I really miss my boyfriend though. He's in Glasgow this week, due home tomorrow, can't wait! Am hoping for something along the lines of that famous scene from An Officer and a Gentleman, but I don't think he has the outfit... we should get him that outfit! I'm working late tomorrow and could really do with the distraction.

Behold the fabulousness of the new Sex and the City: The Complete Series shoe box! I want one! I'm holding out until after Christmas; if Santa doesn't read my blog, I'll splurge and buy it myself (just hope they don't sell out or something!) I can justify the spending because I'll really get my moneys worth out of it. SATC marathons are a regular occurrence at the Chica residence. It's so pretty!

Yesterday, I watched Closer. Oh My God. How disgusting are men?! Yeuch, I hope Clive Owen doesn't kiss his mother with that mouth! Bar of soap needed, stat. I do not get how Julia's character (my mate Julia Roberts that is :P) could find that man attractive when he is portrayed as such a sleazebag. That scene with Natalie Portman? Gross! I know Jude Law's character wasn't exactly squeaky clean on the language front, but that computer scene - how did they get away with showing that?! - was pretty funny. "Graphic sexual dialogue" indeed! That being said, I'd recommend this film. (But it should be rated NEVER WATCH IT WITH YOUR PARENTS... or on a first date, for that matter.) And I really liked Julia's eye make up! Natalie with red hair reminded me of Sharon Osbourne, but she rocked the pink wig.

Shazza?

I filled out a job application yesterday too. It took me half the day! Bah - I hate supporting statements. It's for some student liaison post, helping them find work placements. It's better paid than my current job and has more chance of going somewhere. I've been trawling job websites recently. If any of them are actually interested in me, I don't think I'm going to be too popular with my boss, getting calls for references already! *sigh* Why can't I just wake up tomorrow and be Zadie Smith? I mean, is that too much to ask?

Coffee House

I just made a pot of coffee and am waiting for my sexy man to get out of bed so we can make pancakes. It's such a rock 'n' roll lifestyle I lead! See how romantic that is though? It's like a scene after a good date on Sex and the City! I'm gearing up for Valentines Day. I still don't know what to do for that though, or what gift to give. What do boys like? Hmmmm... I can think of a few obvious things. I'm talking about socks so get your mind out of the gutter! Haha. My helpful pals down at the library, I know you're reading this, you bunch of skivers - any suggestions would be very welcome, I'll be in on Sunday to renew my books!

Anyway. I'm waffling already. Better go and kick my boyf's ass out of bed so I can see him before I send him off to work. Then I've got a date with said books so I can finally get moving on the monster essay I'm supposed to be working on. Literary theory sucks.