The time I went on a date: Part 2

Another lengthy tale of my awkward life, handily divided into two parts. Part One is available here.

Eventually it was time for the film. I’d promised an Orange Wednesdays voucher and failed to deliver (friend never got back to me with it!); he tried to contact a friend last minute to get one but that didn’t appear either. Discussion of this failure took up far more of the conversation than I would have liked.
Thus when he tried to insist upon paying for our tickets I outright refused. I felt bad enough as it was. Not to mention the fact that I thought he had a car and it would be no problem for him to get there: turned out he had to take a taxi straight from work. All the way across town. Expensive. Oops. And of course I had to ask where he lived: and of course it turned out to be 4 streets down the road from me. I couldn’t not offer him a lift home.

We chatted while the adverts were on. An interview was played in which a man had a thumb war with an actor, whereupon B turned to me and declared that he had never been beaten in a thumb war. This did make me laugh; he was clearly messing about but then he insisted on challenging me. He wasn’t lying when he said he was good: I nearly lost that thumb then. Guess that would have brought the date to a swift close.
He heard it click as it bent backward and apologised, holding out his hand as though ready to take my hand and ‘inspect for damage’. Far be it from me to judge such tricks, as we know I am not above that shizzle, but I just wasn’t into it. I laughed it off (I was going to stick the good old adjective ‘awkwardly’ in there but really? I think we can just take that as a standing situational thing. It was all awkward).

The film itself was fine. Part of a series, the rest of which I’d never seen, so I was rather confused throughout but whatever. It was alright. And the lead actor was kind of cute.

As we walked down the steps out of the screening room B ended up ahead of me. My glance happened to fall on the back of his neck: two small silver bars poked out of his neck. Like tiny, tiny Frankenstein’s monster bolts. It was a weirdly deep-looking piercing as well. Anyway, regardless of depth, I’m not a fan of piercings in men (personally I don’t like any piercings but that is due to my combined needles and holes phobias). Not important but still.

I drove him home. He didn’t actually show me where his house or even his actual street were: he just said the layby under the bridge was fine. So ok, I pulled over. I was extremely worried that this would be the moment he went for a kiss. He began to lean over… for a hug. Relieved, I returned the hug and promptly SMACKED HIM IN THE FACE with my upper arm. Hastily I began to withdraw and apologise: mid-apology I once again SMACKED HIM IN THE FACE, this time with my hand. He just got out then.

I drove home ever so fast and hunted out my housemate and her boyfriend. Like surrogate parents they listened to every detail, offered me about 20 pieces of conflicting advice (while B texted me about the good time he’d had) and then we went to the drive through for McFlurries. So that was good.


The time I went on a date

It’s another random and long ongoing tale! Some may say I should finish one before I start another but yo, this is how I roll! Mainly cos I couldn’t be bothered to write the other one right now.

I originally wrote this in the before time – the date in question happened last year – but, as I had started telling this saga here before (and cos I read this and thought it was alright) I reckoned I might as well publish it. I want to state: I mean no offence to my datee here. Awkwardness was due to me. He was a nice guy who I just ultimately wasn’t interested in in that way.

Well I did it. I went on a date. A rather awkward date but that was to be expected. And hey, it wasn’t terrible.

Our original plan had been to meet at the cinema just before the film, however, B texted and asked whether I could meet him for a drink first. I really wasn’t sure about this – I’d thought that he might suggest going for a drink after but before? According to my friends and family: before is better. Gets it over and done with, it’s got a clear time limit and then at the end you can just go. I hadn’t thought of any of these things but, on reflection, I agreed.

And so we met 45 minutes before the film. I know that’s not long but hey; one drink (cos how early can I eat dinner, huh?) I’d driven there and as I opened my car door my phone bleeped: a text from him. He was already there. Fighting the sudden urge to leap in my car and keep driving until there was no more Britain to drive on, I headed toward the cinema. There he was. He looked… strangely red around the eyes. Like he’d been crying. I don’t know why – I wasn’t that late (two minutes tops).

He hugged me. Previous statements have declared how I feel about physical contact so I need say no more on that front.

He’d never been to that area before and so I suggested a bar. He offered to buy drinks – a coke for me, a pint for him. Pleasant but stilted conversation ensued. As we moved to sit at a table he decided to do a ‘cheers’-clink move with his glass. Sadly I had just leaned down to sip through my straw, half way through that sip I realised why he was shoving his glass at me and quickly tapped mine on his. I didn’t quite twig that some coke had just entered my mouth, the movement whipped the straw out of my mouth and the coke followed. I spluttered and dribbled awkwardly.

As I listened to him speak I began to feel awful. He told me about his life – his family back down south and his upcoming visit for his nephew’s birthday. There was a whole life there with just one gap: a gap for a girlfriend to slot into. I felt like I could see a path I would never take, it would never be me in that gap – it was all there before me but I knew, even then, that I just wasn’t interested in dating him.And no, it probably was no great loss to him, I’m sure he had no trouble finding dates. But it was the strangest sensation of seeing little snippets of a whole life laid out like a patchwork quilt with a square missing. I’m sure it’s just my overactive imagination but in that moment I really felt like I’d Seen Something. I don’t know. Just my own guilt talking really.

Part two will follow shortly (this got long. Like, seriously long. But I swear it’ll just be two parts).

We pair up

Most of my friends seem to be in relationships these days. Not that strange; I am in one myself.

Not so very long ago this would have been truly unbelievable to any one of us – high school was as dry as a desert in terms of viable boyfriends and our tendency to spend lunch in our own HQ meant that we were seen, I suspect, as something of a lesbian coven (only a problem when trying to get boys!).

One by one we overcame the many obstacles that shy teenage girls face and began to date people! Some got boyfriends at uni, some through mutual friends – my first boyfriend came from a theatre group that I joined (a tale I will finish someday).

Things had changed (very much for the better)! And then, just recently, things seem to have changed again.

People are getting serious. People are moving in with each other. People are becoming a single unit when I know there are two of them really! I don’t feel like this is something I understand – the need to so seriously assert ‘We Are A Couple’. Obviously there’s nothing wrong with being serious or living together. It’s just the way they seem to go ‘Oh we’re adults now, yes, we are a serious couple of adults and we do all the same things!’

I’m sure their point of view of it makes sense. And I know I’ve A. Only been with my boyfriend 6 months when they’ve all been together for several years and B. Lived with my (previous) boyfriend before so have no desire to rush into that again.

Maybe I’m just different too? I like to be coupley but in my own way. And I like independence. And while I may sometimes secretly wish I could boss my boyfriend around the way I see my friends do, I know that that is not really what I want or need in a man. I think I need someone who knows his own mind and will not be pushed around. That’s not always the easiest route though, I guess.

Anyway. It’s late and I’m rambling. I’ve just realised it’s the weekend so I can stay up late but I think I’ll just fall asleep. WHAT HAVE I BECOME? (aaaand I didn’t publish this til Monday. But I was right. I did just fall asleep.)

Escape and Further Movement

Turns out that lying on your side, twisted round so that the laptop is resting right on your stomach is NOT a good way to blog. Too tired to move though.

Sequin cushion is digging into me too. I know, I know, ‘first world problems’… I just wish I had thought through my soft furnishings before purchasing them.

Perhaps this time I’ll do better… for I am moving house! I have a month left here in the house I share with one of my best friends and then I will be moving, ooh, at least 5 miles(!) to a nearby village where, for the first time ever, I will Live Alone. Daunting. Remind me not to watch any scary films – EVER.

It was time to go. All the signs were there: occasionally having to call the police about onstreet domestic violence had really lost its charm. As had the delightful sounds of a large family who liked to sit in their car and blast the loudest beating music you’ve ever heard – of course this was when they were not standing outside their house (they never shut the door) shouting about either A. Jesus and how one must love him or go to hell or B. Who smashed in who with a baseball bat and what to do as retaliation.

Personally I’d have trouble reconciling the loving Jesus and the baseball bat smashing but they seemed pretty chilled about it.

Crap, I nearly forgot my FAVOURITE NEIGHBOUR EVER: Mad Van. Man Van was a madman. He liked – no – he loved to park outside his house. Keep in mind that this is a row of terraced houses with nothing but a strip of pavement and then road outside the doors. No private parking; you take whatever gap there is when you arrive and you just accept that.

Not Mad Van. If he couldn’t park in the exact bit outside of his house (and he lined it up with a lamppost – seriously, 30 cm away would be WRONG and TOO FAR) he would employ a variety of tactics to get his own way.

1. He would just drive into your car – presumably hoping to shove it forward so he could fit. Sometimes this would be done on the way out so I guess that was just vengeance.

2. He would drop pins (or maybe push them in) next to your tyres so you would get a puncture.

3. He would print out his very own fake parking fine tickets and tuck them under people’s windscreens. They looked real from a distance but close up it was just sad, yellow paper with SCREAMING WORDS.

None of this is normal. Well, you don’t need me to tell you that. You may wonder why we didn’t report him to the police… the thing is, there was never any concrete evidence. Maybe that pin just fell there? Maybe someone else put the ticket on? Perhaps another driver clipped your car? We all knew it was him though.

Now I’ve written this I wish it led to up a glorious revenge… Oh how I wish…

The much more fun world of boys

Although I don’t suppose ‘boys’ is right any more as we are all MID-TWENTIES now. I don’t know how that happened.

Anyway. Back in the before, I’d mentioned my ex, I’d mentioned my FWB, I’d mentioned my awkward, awkward date (though I never did follow through with what happened on the date).

Well, one of these people is now my boyfriend… and it’s the FWB! 10 points if you guessed that (if you want to keep score, it’s 10 points every time you see a nun and you win if you see the pope. Insta-win. Cos he’s the hardest to spot of course.)*

This is something I probably won’t blog much about because for me this is personal and private. I wanted to mention him and I’m sure he’ll feature in general stories.       We started dating for real in January and… well. It’s good. 😀

I guess this is a short series of the main updates of my life in the 6 months that has zoomed by while the blog hibernated!

*This is a game my family and I would play when on holiday (for some reason there are more nuns on holiday) and it amused me immensely. It has no religious basis although I suppose onloookers could have thought that our utter delight when seeing members of the clergy etc stemmed from a religious rapture.

The terrifying world of jobs

As I mentioned in my last post, I’ve just re-read this whole blog (ok so it took 10 minutes!) which kinda made me think of things I wanted to write about – or at least finish off writing about, having begun their stories in the before-time.

And one of those thing was work. I posted about my crazy-busy shifts at the clothes shop over the Christmas period and about my disastrous knee. My last post about it was on Boxing Day as I dreaded the next days’ 8 hour shift after completely wrecking my knee in the store that day.

I never did that shift. Turns out my knee was more wrecked than I’d thought: when I awoke on the 27th to go in I literally couldn’t get up. Oops. I had to ring and cancel.

They said they’d let me know when my next shift would be. I still had a week on my contract and most people were kept on after Christmas anyway.

I never heard from them again.

Many jobless months passed by. Sometimes I put in effort and applied, sometimes I felt too sucked into a soup of mopeyness to do anything but bookmark possibilities. I’m not proud but hey, it was damn hard and miserable-ising!

But then! My parents went ‘Hang on – are you actually not making much effort? Come round sometime and do it with some company and moral support!’

For which I will be forever grateful. Literally in a few weeks I had an interview. WOOP WOOP! (I am immensely grateful for this and for my parents!)

Amazingly I didn’t bugger up the interview and now I create learning materials for blind and visually impaired children as well as managing a toy library!

This is genuinely the first job I’ve ever had that I actually like – it’s somewhat creative, it involves books, the people are nice and it’s actually worth doing! I’ve always tried to find the worth in whatever daft job I was doing and to not have to search and search for that worth is lovely.

And I think I’ll leave it there for now!

I take the plunge and return

Hello (shouting into the vastness of the internet, who knows if this will be heard?)!

I’m back. I am sooooooo bad at maintaining things like this! But I have to keep trying to improve.

This time I’m back because I’m finally dealing with my issues and in a round-about way, this is connected. This is my homework – writing, that is. So I thought this would be a good place to start.

A lot has happened since I last blogged. I’ve just spent a few minutes reading through all of my old entries (yeah, it didn’t take long). In summary this blog has been haphazard but I did make myself laugh! So at least someone’s laughing.

I hardly know where to begin now. I think I want to improve the blog. I need a snazzy design and more memorable (and spellable) name… and I need a THING. A BIT. Or something.

I wonder if I should start a whole new blog and leave this where it lies? For ‘Crimineaux’ is it’s name now and will that name ever catch on? People can’t say it, people can’t spell it, it’s not even a real word. Hmm.

For now I’ll just keep writing though. Writing and writing because writing is it’s own medicine. As are most creative things for me. I went away from that and I don’t think it did me any good. SO I must do it again! Here goes….