Who Needs Soap Operas...

..when you have a life like mine?

So the Boy came down for bank holiday weekend and we had a really lovely time - explored parts of London I've not even been to in the five years since I moved here, went drinking in Camden (and to the market), Soho, Piccadilly, walked along the South Bank, watched street performers, went on the Tate Modern's graffiti street tour, the London Aquarium, a friend's house party in Clapham, played some Wii...and then, the Notting Hill Carnival. Which is where I became a bit unstuck. Have no excuse other than exhaustion after five days' continuous partying and precious little sleep - oh, added to the (probably quite significant) fact that I was drinking premium strength cider from about 2pm onwards - but either way I went a little AWOL in the brain department, not in your typical stumbling around and slurring sense, more in a spaced out and moody sense, which as you can imagine didn't go down too well in the midst of a mardi gras atmosphere. By the time we stumbled through my front door at 10pm I was more than ready to vent some (totally unecessary) spleen at the poor Boy, who was bewildered by my sudden change of tone, to say the least. Before I knew it I'd instigated the old 'what's going on between us' conversation, in spite of the fact I know, and have known since the start, that it could never be more than a bit of fun (distance/age/fact he's going travelling being the three main reasons, to name but a few). To be fair to him he handled the whole situation admirably, and I for one don't blame him in the slightest for suggesting sleep when I announced, entirely unreasonably, that I didn't think we should see one another again (?!)

Needless to say, yesterday morning's rushed goodbye was about as fun as a knife through the eye, in part because the premium strength cider had led to a premium strength hangover, and in part because no matter what I said or did I couldn't make what happened the night before disappear. I was - and still am - mortified by my stupid drunken outburst, and kicking myself that after what was otherwise a really fantastic w/e I've probably screwed things up irreparably. Was meant to be going up to Wales again for a party with a group of friends in a fortnight's time, but am now questioning whether it's wise, seeing as a) he clearly thinks I'm a psycho and may well have no desire to see me ever again and b) I'm obviously more attached to him (or the idea of him, or maybe just the idea of a relationship full stop) than I should be given the circumstances. Whilst I might gain a sense of perspective and get things back on an even keel between us (ie by having fun) I might also screw myself up and miss him even more. Maybe I should cut my losses now (as I threatened to do on Mon during The Drunken Chat) to avoid more heartache. Or maybe not. I don't know. All I do know is he's obviously a good guy because he texted me several times yesterday telling me not to worry about it, most recently at 9 last night simply asking if I was okay. Wish I didn't feel it was just polite and out of pity, but either way it's better than nothing.

So there you have it, the latest saga in my saga-filled life has ended in a pretty disappointing way. And the worst part is it's showed up some insecurities I really thought I was starting to lay to rest after The Break Up. Maybe I'm just not ready to be with anyone else yet - I know it's getting on for a year since I split with the Ex, but nine years is such a long time and every now and then it still hurts like it was yesterday. It's true what they say about being happy in yourself before you can be happy with someone else, perhaps now's the time to re-evaluate what does make me happy, be realistic about my latest experience and see the positives in it, for example the fact I've finally proved to myself I can like someone else in that way, because I've sure as hell had doubts about that these past few months. Doesn't stop me being embarrassed, or a little disappointed that this can't go any further, but it's a milestone on the long road to recovery at the very least, and I hope I won't lose the friendship that's developed between us, because that's something I value very highly.

In other news, tomorrow night I'm going out for dinner with my first ever boyfriend! We met on a French exchange when I was 13, him 15, went out twice - for a grand total of about 2 months, I might add - and I spent the next four years obsessing over him....Happily, however, (or unhappily as the case may be) I grew up both physically and emotionally and met someone (He-who-shall-not-be-named) which meant my feelings for First Boyfriend dissipated entirely, though in subsequent years I always wondered what had become of him. About five years ago I did actually bump into him on a night out in Oxford, which was really rather lovely, but I never got in touch because my phone was stolen and I lost his number! So you can imagine my surprise when he replied to an email I sent through Friends Reunited in a last ditch attempt to contact him - seven months after the email was sent. I'm 99% sure he's shacked up with a long-term partner if his 'I'm sure I've plenty of mates who'd love to meet a fine lady such as yourself' comment is anything to go by, but it'll be really nice to catch up after all this time, and will be a timely distraction if nothing else.

Which takes me through to...Majorca! Leaving this Sunday, coming back Thurs afternoon, staying in my friend's parents' luxury villa and doing a whistlestop (one night only) trip to Ibiza for a spot of clubbing slap bang in the middle. Then it's straight up to Yorkshire for four days on the Friday for a work event - no rest for the wicked. Here's hoping I don't feel this bad this time next week, or else it'll be curtains for me. Must...get.......some..............rest.................................