Deny Me and Be Doomed

So I sat my friend down, basically told him that it is not his business to say whether I am closed up or not. It is absolutely none of his business to tell me to get out and get laid, when I am saying that I don't want to.

I added to say that I have a right to remain boarded up after everything I went through, hoping for him to have full knowledge of my history and episodes. At this point he chose to tell me that my shit is nothing worse than anybody else's, and since everybody else moves on (to get laid) instead of stalling and mope, I should be doing so, too.

Ohh, OK. You went to the place you should never have. You just said my mental break downs and years of malfunctioning is just me over-reacting. You have just defended all my exes (of all-sorts) and told me to move on like a normal human-being. You have disregarded half of my life in 3 seconds.

"I cannot believe you just said that, you are supposed to be my good friend!! How could you say that I didn't go through enough shitty situations to be like this?"

I yelped.

"That's not what I said. Why do you always focus on negatives?"

He protested. I don't care any more. The damage is done. You went too far.

This is exactly why I don't have a friend. This is EXACTLY why I am alone. Go on, deny me, entertain me, be doomed. Just do it.

Well, Here is the Thing...

So my friend is trying to hook me up with the electrician who comes around to our place to fix things now and then. The electrician guy is really nice (personality-wise, not rear section-wise, according to my friend,) but is 14 years my senior, has 3 kids and divorced, then went in and came out of long term relationships. This is what I call the "bad on paper" type. My friend is really pushing me towards this guy, and although I am thankful for the attention (D is single, she is a nice person and deserves a really nice guy!) I have to stop and wonder if this is all flattering that my good friend is picking THIS guy, while really hoping for us to happen.

 

So, yeah, electricians make good money,

and apparently he is looking,

and he is dead nice.

 

I have to stop and wonder if I am being a stuck up here. And I have to think if my friend is just simple, and gullible, to determine his niceness after knowing him for 45 minutes. Should I be grateful for this??? Why can I not have someone who is not second or third hand? Why is THIS guy supposed to be the very best, so much so my good friend could barely contain the excitement when "we" are on the subject???

 

Kinda pissed here.

Over

So our pub has finally joined the rest of 34 pubs a week closures in the UK. It was a tiny part of English history. We are losing pubs, and government and NHS would put other things before this tradition of the country. Well, that's fine, I guess that's healthy.

 

We are down to almost nothing in the end. The pub was sold to the Asian folks who would take it over and change it to a posh curry house. They did not want to take stocks over, so basically everything had to go. Fosters 2 quid, no bitter, no diet Pepsi, quid a shot if we have it.

 

Everyone said, "Oh that is a shame," what else would anyone say? People just stayed for hours like a lingering odour. What else do you want to do in a lazy Sunday afternoon in a pub that's closing down forever in a few hours?

 

Girls were exchanging phone numbers. I got a few, too. And some more from customers (sorry but I will never call you.) Girls were making promises to keep in touch, I am well aware they will never been met. I hugged a couple of them good bye, because I liked them well enough, even though I was fairly sure that one of them was hitting on me.

 

Daughter of the owner and her friends came, ate ice cream, had some wines, and eventually left. It really was getting to be over.

 

I sat down with the owner, with a glass of red, in a semi darkness, I was crying because I was grateful to be there at that moment. It is a shame, and we must move on, and I will remember that moment fondly, because it was part of us, that was on the way out, complete out.

 

Good bye FOX. Thanks for everything.

Trippin’ Mug

So I was on a holiday of a life time with a person who meant so much to me. I took a loan and took this holiday, it was a symbolic trip and meant a new start for both of us.

 

After the landing I was paying for drinks, sandwiches, and tickets, soon I realized that I had not seen his purse for a while (let's just call it a purse when is carried by such a wuss.) In fact I had not seen his purse since we have left the city. I mean, yeah I made him come out for the trip, and yes, I have promised him a good time, but don't you even pretend to take it out when the bill arrives at the table?

 

What was increasingly annoying was that this guy had no hesitation whatsoever each time we sat down for a little break. First thing he asked for was a pint, followed by a full sized portion of local cuisine.

 

I was too happy, in fact, to complain. I was in an over-blissfully ignorant state even for my own goodness. He carried on spending my borrowed money. I carried on looking after him everytime he craved for goodies. Anyway, it was too late to back off then, we were already out there, what was I supposed to do?

 

I sort of knew that he had been lying to me every damn day leading up to the trip, so he can squeeze some milk out of me. The milk here being dough, rather than honey juice. I knew his mates were calling me sugar-mommy. I knew his friends looked at me and him thinking,

"You've done well, son. If you tolerate this creature while holding her hands for more than 30 sec and telling her she is a beautiful person, then you deserve nothing but these gifts!"

 

He cooed me and conned me, tricking me into thinking that it would lead to some future. After all, there was a matrimony involved, and I did not think anyone whisper love and promises with such a little regards to reality. I just thought that he was using all of my money, because he was planning to pay me back when we start this new life we have been talking about. He is going to graduate and will get some job he loves and enjoy, then we will have life together where he will be looking after me without breaking into MY savings all the f-in' time.

 

But, you know, told ya so, I am a mug. It was not even a month after the trip things started to deteriorate. As soon as I began saying that I was skint he started to leg it. It was beautiful. He exited SO fast, I thought it was a gash of wind. I was left completely shattered because it was all my fault. I've let him, AND myself to do this. There is no word to describe my stupidity.

 

Admitting one's own defect, I still don't understand why they (yes, THEY, not one) seem to come to ME? Why don't ya go up to some rich lady with better assets and all? I don't have any money. You must get sick kick out of torturing half broke person with certifiable mental problems. I am too broken to even know what I am thinking any more. I have not recovered from tortures after another and I am simply a malfunctioned marionette . Swing me around, why don't you?

 

Swiiiiiing.......! (Ka....ching!!)

The Reasons I am Pretty

My boss was telling me how pretty I am by citing following reasons;

I have an exotic look,

I have long, flowing, dark hair,

I have them eyes that are dead give away of where my blood is from.

 

OK, none of them is complimenting to me. Basically my boss was super positively discriminating me and pointing out that I am not normal looking, and will always be the outsider of the community. That I am an alien. If some people find these deficits attractive then that's repulsive to me as they clearly have acquired tastes and I am just their flavour of the moment, till the next one. And the hair? Does anyone EVER actually say a person is attractive because that person decided to grow a body wool for longer than others? And again, it is hugely depending on the taste of whether you like long hair or not, and it is NOTHING to do with attractiveness I may or may not possess.

 

My boss meant well, but that talk made me feel just tad worse than I was feeling, which was basically nawt. Back to square nil, and I am pretty,

pretty contained,

the glass is almost full of air.

It Sucks to be Single

"A table for 1 please."

I said so to this little guy. He, who was barely 5' tall, in return pulled this face, which he has pulled a couple hundred times on daily basis it now has become the second nature to him, said to me,

"Oh, I am afraid it will be at least 15 min wait."

 

Not only it was so sad to dine out on Friday night on your own, but also you had to have the fact you are Solo Absolut rubbed in all over your face by the corporate franchise restaurants who don't supply small tables for singletons.

 

"You are welcome to sit at the bar if you like?"

 

I glanced down my watch, and sighed quietly. If I waited for 15 minutes, the happy hour will be well over. I wouldn't dare say that to the little man. Today's the day I learn that you need to be more than 1 to have privileges to the happy hour.

 

"Yeah, that's fine. I am starving and I need to eat."

which was actually true. I have been so frail for over a week now, feeling uncontrollably unwell, I needed a sturdy meat dish for the Friday night so I could go on the weekend of non-stop working.

 

The only place available at the bar was the far end corner where all you can smell was the air freshener from the bathroom. I am not sure which is worse to have around food and drink; smell of urinals, or the toilet ducks.

 

I had my meal, with a pint of shandy, and went home. The meal was OK, and it was a nice, calm evening for a change, and I was in a mood for a good film while finishing half empty bottle of an Australian merlot. Then the door bell rang. It's only 10.30pm, who could that be? I only have a coked up skunk who likes to bother me at 3am, but not before midnight.

 

But it was.

 

It sucks to be single. Everyone thinks it's OK to put me in the smelly corner to dine, and it's acceptable to ask for free milk out of me when I really, really need to sleep so I can make a living. ....He was so out of it I couldn't even tell him that I am in love with him. So I just threw him out instead. He came back though. I had to slam the door couple of times in his face.

 

It sucks to be single, and, yes, I love it so much I will never give it up. All the freedom, discount in commiseration, free violence, full of drama and not a care in the world. You know, all that jazz.

A Random Night in N1 0AX

"And I got a girl friend at the minute,"
so he says. Well, I wasn't asking. I am not here to beg you to take me back, and I am not here to ask you why you asked me to email you and never returned any of them when I did. I am not here to ask you why you have ended things with me, and I am really not interested what you are up to. I am only here to hear you sing.

He was so bloody nice about it. If a guy says a hi to an old flame and be that nice, then I have to say that is a gift. I guess that is exactly why none of his hundreds of exes ever killed him. That is an applause worthy talent.

And by telling me about his new flame, he was cleverly manoeuvring me out of the way, without complicating the otherwise stressful situation. Fine, I get it. I am cool with that.

I didn't really want to talk to him. I mean, what am I suppose to say? It is nice to see you again, when it really isn't? (Who would want to see exes doing well and being happy? I'm not saying that I'd rather see them bleeding from heart while spelling my name out on the wall with the blood from the gash. But I'd rather stay away from the well functioning exes.) I wanted to stay anonymous in the crowd and not being spotted, but, jeeves, that pub was SO empty.

I was trying to hide in the non-existing crowd, and I have realized that I have been there before, in my dream. I even remembered that I knew his girl friend's name. ("Carmen? What sort of name is that?" is what I was thinking in my dream.) If I was there in my dream, then I guess that was a pre-programmed cosmic fuck up that I chose to endure.

As soon as he started talking to me, all I could remember was how nice it was to spend the time with him, even though I always knew how insincere he really was / is. Again, if a guy can do that, then that's a talent. I rather have him acted all freaked out and dismissive than having being all friendly and proper, but, oh no, he wouldn't let that happen for me.

(Some guy who was giving me eyes all that night passed me by, saying good night, then asked accusingly,

"Are you with that guy?"

OK, you are either psycho, or psychic. And the answer is, no, never.)

He then sang. His songs are still great. He sounded amazing for a live performer, but he did not sound as good as I thought he would be. I was singing along as I knew most of his songs by heart. Beautiful lyrics, nice tune to sing out. Everyone around me was quiet because his voice was powerful and clear, and, of course, none of them ever heard of his songs before. Then I saw the girl. She was standing right by the stage, singing along. She knew all the lyrics, and her lips were synching with mine. Oh, your new girl friend is VERY pretty. You are fucking idiot for thinking of even dumping this gorgeous little girl, (and telling me about it.) She is so in love with you. Her eyes, full of adulation, like mine were once back then, and I was thinking how glad I was that it was all over, and that I have never gotten around to where she is.