I’m not. But I feel like one. I don’t know if it’s because of the heat (the sun since run away) but all the hotties are out – or at least they were on Saturday.

I had a great weekend, actually. On Friday, I bypassed the gym after to meet my old work colleague for drinks. This is the one who took me out a while back and told me to dress to impress. I don’t think I named him, so I’ll call him Mr Arrogant (in a nice way. sort of). So when he texted me I left the office and ambled down to Clapham in the blazing sunshine feeling all summery – bright vest, turned up jeans, sunglasses on – it’s summertime bitches. I get there and he’s suitably summery for a bloke i.e. he had his shirt sleeves rolled up and RayBans on. He was there with a friend, classic banker type, except Ugandan. Nice enough bloke. So we had a few drinks in a few bars before grabbing some food and the night drew on. I actually hadn’t intended to stay too long since I had to be up for 8am for uni the next day but…well…I got persuaded to go to a late night bar and, oh well. Swiftly told Mr Arrogant that since I’d have to get a cab home he could very well pay for my drinks. Of course, he did.

It was fun. Apart from the times I got pushed to the side when Mr Arrogant decided to chat up seemingly endless bits of skirt. I don’t care that he chatted up these women, but I did care that I was left with his random friend. I mean, if you’re gonna invite me out then bloody well don’t forget I’m there. Ruhuude. I didn’t say anything though, at least, not straight away. And so the pattern continued. He’d chat to some girl, take her number, come back, pick me up, spin me round and buy me another drink. And then his friend asked if we were seeing each other. I nearly spit out my drink. Erm. No, we’re not. I’ve never even kissed him. He asked why and I told him that I’d known My Arrogant for something like 10 years. I know what he’s like –  a dirty, dirty dog. I hated him at first for that very reason. Then, he said that Mr Arrogant had told him he was ‘seeing me’, therefore his friend wasn’t allowed to make a move on me. What’s wrong with this picture? His friend is married. This is what these guys are like. By the end of the night I’d had enough. At one point, I came in from having a smoke and he was chatting up yet another woman. He gestured to his mate in a way that (to me) said ‘get her out of the way’. I had a proper barney at him outside the bar at the end of the night because of that. He said his gesture meant ‘make sure Freechick’s not on her own’, and he’d never try to get rid of me. The conversation went something like this:

Me: I’m only going to say this once, so sober up and listen. Don’t ever invite me out again and then just fuck me off. I can be a great wingwoman if I’m at least prepared to know that’s what the night’s about (instead of cockblocking him which I did towards the end just for fun).

Him: I’m really sorry, it wont happen again. 

Me: Good boy (squeezed his cheeks). I’m going to get a cab.

Him: No, just come and stay at P’s (his friend).

Me: Can’t. I’ve got to be at uni tomorrow.

Him: It’s fine, you can go there straight from P’s.

Me: No, thanks. I don’t want to wake up to you trying to stick your cock up my arse.

I got in a cab and left. The next day he texted me to say he finished his triathlon, blah blah blah. He’s a bell-end but it was still fun.

Saturday, I met up with Miss Yoyo after uni. We were meant to just get some lunch, have a catch up and then I’d go home, study and chill. What happened was:

1. We met up. Had lunch.

2. Wandered through Covent Garden and randomly saw hundreds of naked people riding bikes. Literally. I’ve never seen so many cocks and vaginas in my life. Some of the guys were super hot too. There were penises bouncing around everywhere. And some that just looked like belly buttons. 

3. Went for cocktails (I had apple and cinnamon margaritas. To. Die. For)

4. Ogled at the fittest guy ever in the outside area of the pub opposite. 

5. Drained cocktails and headed to the bar with the fit man.

6. Edged my way into the group with the fit man on the pretext of needing to rest my bag on the table in order to roll a cigarette so Miss Yoyo and I could ogle more blatantly. He was in a group on a stag do. Out of the group I identified 6 shaggables. 

7. Sat and people-watched. The pub had a higher than average fit-man ratio.

8. Took the piss out of people with dodgy dress sense. In particular, men who think it’s acceptable to wear SUEDE LOAFERS WITH NO SOCKS!! Gah! Seems like everyone thinks they’re TOWIE rejects these days. And, there was also a guy with denim pedal pushers on. I kid you not.

9. Bantered with a group of guys about places I could arrange a holiday for my 30th. The conclusion was Miami. Or Panama. I’m erring towards Miami, bitches.

10. Drank Long Island Ice Teas that actually sobered me up (while Miss Yoyo drank a green concoction that needed an umbrella and sparkler. She didn’t have the umbrella or sparkler, but the drink soooo deserved one).

11. Went down to the basement to listen to the live band.

12. Ended up talking to a hot Brazilian dude. I went old school and gave him a receipt from my purse and a pen to write his name on since my phone was dead (so modern I didn’t take digits, just his name for Facebook. He asked me but my name is so common he’d never find me.)

13. Almost came on the spot when he did some weird samba thing and looked at me like he wanted to eat me.

14. Left the pub and walked to the tube station, and saw a woman who was in the bar with her head INSIDE a bin, chucking up while her boyfriend rubbed her back. At like, 11pm. Sad times.

15. Got the bus home and went to bed.

Safe to say, my head was fucked the next day. 4 hours sleep in two days and copious amounts of alcohol…hmm. And I had to study the next day too. Boo. But then I looked this guy up on Facebook. His profile picture was decent. And I flicked through to the rest. One of him on a beach, rippling six pack, tattoo, brighter than bright smile. Fuck yes.

Pretty much since then I’ve had the horn. If I was a guy, I’d be walking around with a permanent boner. I so need to get laid it’s ridiculous. I’m out this Friday and next, and also meeting up with an old friend next Thursday (last time we met up turned extremely messy and we ended up chatting up half the bar). I might invite the hot Brazilian to this party I’m going to Saturday. I only know the host and she’s said to bring someone. And I have the feeling I could do some serious flirting at the very least. And I need to get laid.

Never had a Brazilian before…


Totes Can’t Be Arsed

Seasons greetings etc, etc, etc. I do hope everyone had a nice day. Mine? It was fab and a billion times better than last year when I spent it in bed, heartbroken. This year, I had a great time with my family and, stop the press, NO alcohol. I dunno what the world is coming to when there’s no alcohol over Christmas but I’m on medication for the next few days and I have no choice. Bumholes. I’ve had lots of comms with The Frenchman (yes, I changed his name) over the last few days which was lovely, since he was spending Christmas with his grandparents and I didn’t expect to hear much. The sucky news though, is that he’s going away with friends from tomorrow for a week. No comms. No wifi. No Network. Shite. 

So, now it’s coming up to the New Year, and I’m thinking about what I want to achieve in 2013. If 2012 was a year of readjustment and adventure, then I want 2013 to be all about more adventure and some kind of implementation. I want to do something. I don’t know what yet, but I want to do something pretty major. My thinking cap is firmly on. I don’t do resolutions cos I think they’re pretty lame. Nobody ever sticks to them and the changes people want to implement should be implementable (is that a word) at any time of year. So whatever I decide to do wont be a resolution, it will be…


something else. Better than a resolution. I just don’t know what to call it yet. 

In other news, I’m bored. Bored, bored, bored. I feel like I haven’t had a night out in forever and I feel fit to scream. Compared to the first half of this year, the second half has been slow on the going out front. I’ve found myself missing Mr Music too. He was always good for an impromptu piss up, which is exactly what I need to do. Obviously when I’m finished taking these tablets. 

Things are going really well in my life at the moment. So why am I so effing bored? Why can I not get away from this ‘totally can’t be arsed’ feeling?


Music with Mr Music

Oh yeah, I forgot to mention in my last post. I went out with Mr Music on Friday night. It was actually a lot of fun, we watched the Olympics opening ceremony and then got drunk. Since the last time I saw him we’d got so near and yet so far, I made sure to let him know I was capable of getting male attention and ended up reeling in a few guys for some light flirtation. As always, he bestowed compliment after
compliment on me. I am, apparently, a legend. Ha. As if I didn’t already know this. Inevitably we went back to his but instead of fooling around, we sat around smoking way too many cigarettes and chilling to music. We went from classic swing to ska and reggae and along the way, I found out a lot more about him. Although we’re mates, he’s very cagey when it comes to his family life, but as we sat there,
we swapped stories from our childhoods and respective family history. It was nice.

OK, yes, we did have a little kiss, but we both knew it wasn’t going to go any further than it did. It was just something that had to be done to get it out of the way – though I would just rather sleep with him and have done with than do this little merry dance whenever we
meet up. But it was nice. We fell asleep to Bob Marley and in the
morning he made me a nice breakfast.

So maybe I’ve not behaved 100% but still. I had a nice Friday night with a friend who’ve I’ve got to know a little better, so it’s not all bad.

My One Year Anniversary

Today I’m celebrating an anniversary of sorts. It’s a year since I left my boyfriend of 9 and a half years. I can’t really celebrate a proper year of singledom since things were very tumultous until the end of December but still, it’s a milestone.

Thinking back on the things I’ve done in the last twelve months, and the things I have to look forward to, is nuts. Aside from the male related activities I’ve enjoyed, I’ve reconnected with old friends, had a fabulous weekend away, started to learn a new language, learned to enjoy my own company, had fabulous nights out, got a step closer to
having my book published and generally had lots amd lots of fun. A
year ago, I’d have said the next year of my life would be much the same as it was then, which was OK. I didn’t realise how much I’d settled for. And now I think, what if I’d have stayed? I’d possibly be a mum, or pregnant. I’d no doubt still be angry at coming second to class A narcotics and I’d think that it was the way the rest of my
life would pan out.

Thank fuck I’m out of that.

I’m not going to deny the months after the break up were hard – at times I literally wanted to die – but now I can actually look back and say I know, without a shadow of a doubt, I made the right choice. I’ve got so much to look forward to. Marseilles, Ibiza, Glastonbury, spending more time with my friends and making lots of new memories along the way. And even better, I know what I want out of a
relationship now, and I know what I absolutely will not settle for.

I have to say a massive, massive thank you to my friends: Miss Sunshine, Miss Yoyo, Miss America and Miss Comeback for their words of advice and support over the past 12 months. I love you all.

Time flies when you’re having fun 😉

Meeting the friends and family

Since meeting with Mr Double-Barrel last week, things seem to be going well. He asked me round to his to watch the cheesiness that is Eurovision at the weekend. When the day came, plans changed and as I was possibly meeting with a friend in North London, he asked if I wanted to meet up with him in the same area (which is where he’s originally from) to watch the football and have some drinks. And he mentioned his brother, best friend and other influential people in his life would be there. Nervous wasn’t the word.

Thankfully they were all really nice, engaged me in conversation and generally made me feel welcome. His brother in particular was super friendly and when I told him whereabouts I lived, the response I got was ‘oh yeah, I’ve heard about that a hundred times a day’. I took this, coupled with the fact I clocked the ‘oh, this is Freechick’ looks to be a good sign.

We stayed there for a few hours and headed back to his with a couple of his friends and carried the night on. Yesterday we slept in, had a Will Ferrell-a-thon and he cooked us a roast. He was very sweet and attentive, mentioning again our ‘connection’ and meeting more of my friends as well as things to do for future dates. It was all very nice and chilled and when his friends finally left I was ready to get down and dirty. Since we were all drunk and sunkissed the night before, we’d ended up crashing out in the living room so nothing naughty happened and when I woke up in his bed the next morning (I was that tired I didn’t even remember moving from the sofa to the bed) I fully intended on giving him a nice wake up call. It’d been a while and I needed to get laid but his mate had woken up and obviously confused about waking up in a now empty room, and poked his head around the open door to see where everyone had gone. Close call.

His brother had stayed up in north London overnight with one of their close mates who (I think) he’s recently started seeing romantically so we had the place to ourselves. After about 10 minutes of me getting mine, I realised that there were no blinds up at his windows. And the courtyard is small enough to see into the other flats in the block. We were putting on a show. When I looked outside there were children, CHILDREN, playing right under the open windows (he’s on the first floor) and I wasn’t exactly quiet. I felt like I’d corrupted them so we moved into the bedroom where a, it was cooler and b, there were no innocent minds about the place.

I’d love to say I got laid. It’s been bloody long enough, but no. After he got his, we were a bit sweaty and decided to get a drink. About 2 minutes later his brother and kind of girlfriend came back. In any case, I had a great weekend. I was scared shitless about meeting his friends and brother (who was out with Mr Double-Barrel the night we met but was on a date himself and quite rightly didn’t take much notice of me). After all, friends and family can be hugely influential when it comes to getting a thumbs up or down. I think I did ok….though I’ve now made an executive decision to ask the ‘where is this going’ question. I like him but if he’s only looking for an FWB I need to know so I can damage limitate. My rational mind is saying you wouldn’t introduce an FWB to friends and family, but still. I have a feeling the people he could call on if he felt the need are classed as actual friends and therefore quite close to him. Can’t take anything for granted…

We’re gonna party hard!

When you walk out of a club and it’s daylight, you know you’ve had a good night. Miss America and I hit up Ministry of Sound last night and even by our standards it was pretty epic. It’s been years since I’ve been anywhere near a club and on the way we got chatting to a couple of young guys. It set the tone for the night. All the hot men had come out to play!

Strangely, a friend of my ex saw what we were up to on Facebook and after swapping messages I told him to come down. I haven’t seen him since last year – why would I have done? Now this guy is hardcore. He’d come round to the flat I shared with my ex, go through beer after beer, gram after gram and still function for work the next day. But he was also pretty cool and always game for a laugh. Hm. He turned out to be a not so great drunk who smoked in the club, got into a fight resulting in him needing to have his arm patched up and grabbing at my mate. If it weren’t for the fact that I know what he’s like sober, I’d have written him off completely.

All this aside though, it was a great night and just what I needed to shrug off a crap week. The legendary Roger Sanchez played a 5 hour set and we danced the night away. It was the first time in ages I really let go on the dance floor, resulting in a few people asking if I was on drugs. I had to laugh. Of course there were people who were so spaced out they didn’t have a clue what was going on around them, but it’s not my scene. If I were to take some MDMA or coke or whatever, I’d be a mental case. Literally. Anyone who’s seen me in action on a night out knows this. I’ve got to say, I cannot wait for Ibiza!

I didn’t think I drank that much but actually, I think I was still drunk this morning. Certain sentences may as well have been tongue twisters, a fry up (albeit vegan and from a trendy place that took 45 minutes to serve us) turned my stomach and I can’t remember what the guy who’s been texting me looks like.

Yeah. There’s always a guy. He bought me a drink early on and I remember thinking he was alright, so he can’t have been that bad. We had a dance and a cheeky kiss anyway, and he’s already called me today. If anything, it’s a nice distraction from Mr Double-Barrel who seems to have dropped off the face of the earth.

It’s been a great weekend. I haven’t laughed so much in a very long time. Even if I am paying for it now….but hey, that’s the price you pay. In the words of Donaeo, we party hard.

The best compliment I’ve ever received

To say Mr Music was looking mighty hot last night would be an understatement. He’d had an interview that morning in The City and the city boy look is one that definitely suits him. He turned up with an ex colleague I haven’t seen for a couple of years and everything was fine. Of course I was still angry at him but I decided it probably wasn’t best to have a go at him in the middle of a packed out bar. I ignored him, as I usually do at first when he turns up to a drinks event, and wasn’t surprised to see him trying to catch my eye. We went out to smoke and then afterwards sat on the sofa for a chat.

I told him straight up that I was pissed off at him and I didn’t want him to feel like every time I asked him to go for a drink it was because I wanted to get into his pants. I’m all about having fun and socialising at the moment and he IS a friend before anything else. I told him I wasn’t trying to get married and have his babies. He apologised and I let it go. He asked about my ex and I told him about the ketamine and meth, and joked that I must have been a crap girlfriend to make him turn out that way. When I told him that, he looked at me and told me not to be so stupid – he was always going to go down that route and if anything I was probably the one keeping his feet on the ground. And then he said

‘You’re beautiful and funny. You’re a great person all round. You’re a rare commodity’

And I swooned. I’ve never had such a nice compliment given to me.

He told me that my wings had been severely clipped with my ex and he’d always wondered why I was with him in the first place.

‘There’s always been something between us’ he said, ‘but I felt like I couldn’t do anything because I can’t handle being the guy after your ex. I can’t compete with a ten year relationship.’

I told him I didn’t want him to compete. My last relationship was what it was, and if I wanted that I’d never have left. And I told him he wouldn’t be the guy after my ex – I’m only human after all, I have a sex drive like anyone else. He said again that he didn’t want our relationship to change and he was worried that after our night back in the summer it would have. I told him I didn’t regret it – I don’t really do things I know I’ll regret later. When he laughed and said ‘a blowjob would’ve been nice’ I laughed back and told him, there was a lot more I could’ve done that night but I knew my head wasn’t in the right place at the time. He seemed to understand that and agreed I was worth every one of the hundred pounds the room cost that night. Given that it was a pretty tame night, he’ll be in for quite a shock when I finally get him between the sheets.

As usual, his phone was beeping away and it turned out to be his stalker from my ‘Stench of desperation’ post. He showed me her texts and boy she does not give up. Where are you? I’m sorry I was all emotional today. Are you ok? She even used baby talk. And apparently she had a big problem with me. Maybe she felt threatened. I told him I fully understood why he was wary of relationships based on that and he seemed so confused. He asked why he attracts these girls and how he could get her to leave him alone without resorting to being a dick because she was actually scaring him. Well, he used a much naughtier word than that but you get my drift. I wish I had a choice piece of advice for him, but I didn’t. I’ve already been there and done that, and this girl is just a different kettle of fish. It appears he has something about him that drives women literally mental and yeah, I want a slice.

When he asked why women behave that way, I said I didn’t know. I’m not a stalker type and I promised him that if (when) anything happened with us, nothing would have to change unless he wanted to make an issue out of it. He just shrugged and said ‘there’s no issue, otherwise I wouldn’t be sat talking to you.’ Apparently he’s pretty strapped for cash now but after a month or so he’ll be back out on the social circuit, and when he told me he’d put my birthday present to him up on his wall, I smiled. I’d imagined it would end up on his floor somewhere, but he shook his head and said out of all the presents he had, it was the most thoughtful. See, I’m not just a pretty face.

All in all, it was a relaxed conversation. He did the whole breathing on my neck thing like he normally does but I managed to control myself. After we went out for another smoke, he whispered in my ear that one of the girls from work asked him if we were together. Obviously our chemistry is clear for everyone to see, as she later asked me the exact same thing.

I’d like to say I woke up at his this morning, but no. The girl who asked about our status has moved out his way and so they decided to share a cab. I have to say, after our talk and general flirting afterwards, all the signs were pointing in the direction of my knickers ending up on his floor, but the three of us sharing a cab would’ve caused way too much gossip. Oh well. There’s always his leaving do to finally snare him.

After he left, I stayed until closing time with a girl who used to work at my place but has since left. Actually, it was the night of her leaving party that I ended up at Mr Music’s flat. She can party just as hard as me, and it turns out we’re both in Ibiza on our girlie holiday at the same time. I smell carnage afoot.

While she danced the night away with an Aussie soldier guy, I got busy with one of only a few guys I’ve ever seen who can actually dance. And maybe had a cheeky kiss or two. Turns out he was a 22 year old uni student…Mrs Robinson? Me? Stuff it, who cares. It was fun. When it was time to go, it looked like my friend had properly pulled. It seemed as though one of us at least would be doing the horizontal dance after all, but in the commotion of waiting for our stuff from the cloakroom and the mass of people (including a whole heap of students from ‘opposing’ uni’s who were out for some kind of alcohol war) she lost him. And so it was that two girls made their way home alone.

To make matters worse (for me and my lack of sex life) Mr Soldier texted me this morning to say he’s failed his army training. Even through his texts I can sense how disappointed he is, I know he really wanted it. He’d said before that if he didn’t pass he’d give up on the idea of a life in the force. I really feel for him and I know he’s going to be in no mood to socialise. Weirdly, I don’t mind. I know how crap it is to not get something you really want, and this result means he’s going to have to re-evaluate what he wants to do with his life, unless he decides to try again.

Oh, the fun never stops.