Party Animals, Lost Souls & Everything Inbetween

I’m struggling to find the positive mental attitude of my last posting today. Last night during a meal out with some girl friends I found out the Ex is moving to Africa with the PDB, and whilst I’m not exactly blown away by this revelation, I can’t deny it feels as if the knife is twisting just that bit deeper. If anything I thought they’d relocate to her native Oz, which I guess would have been a little easier to swallow. Instead, they’ll no doubt be living the very same life that we lead together for the vast majority of 2007, and it’s hard not to revisit my memories of that time and feel they’re even more tarnished than they were before.

I guess what really worries me is how much it still hurts when I think of him and us and everything that’s happened. I still can’t believe I’ve heard nothing from him since we broke up – no apology (though I appreciate we’re beyond that now – way beyond), no message just to see how I am and show he still cares, nothing at all. I know I probably sound like a stuck record, but how can you spend nine years with someone and then not care about them one tiny bit? And never see or contact them ever again? I know for at least some of those years he was in love with me, and it’s terrifying to think how easily everything can turn sour. Where once you cared for someone more than anyone else in your life, now suddenly you’ve moved on and left that person behind without so much as a ‘have a nice life’ to mark the End.

Anyway, there’s no point in dwelling on a situation over which I have no control. I know this to be true, and yet sometimes I can’t help but let my guard down. I’d be made of stone if it didn’t still affect me, right? And the fact I saw his youngest brother at a party a couple of weeks ago for the first time since we broke up hasn’t helped – although it was really wonderful to see him, it made me realise how much I’ve missed them all and, in turn, how much they’ve missed me, which I guess isn’t all that healthy.

This leads me neatly onto the inevitable unsuitable man update. I’m ashamed to admit I’ve once again failed miserably in my mission to exorcise certain demons (never has a word been more appropriate) from my love life (if it can reasonably be called such a thing given my current total lack of interest – starting to wonder if I’ll ever find anyone worthy of my love ever again!) once and for all. Did give it a concerted effort though – after yet another unsatisfactory meeting (the most unsatisfactory yet, if truth be told) I composed a lengthy email highlighting the nigh-on total pointlessness of our continued dalliance and requesting that the man – no, boy – in question stop contacting me once and for all as he so clearly isn’t interested in a relationship with me. Not, I might add, that I was ever really interested in being a relationship with him, but at least I would have given it a chance to develop into something more. The outcome of this was ten days of silence, which I took to mean he had read and reflected upon aforementioned email and was actually going to be the bigger person and do as I had asked. No such luck. The following Sunday I received another late night drunken phone call, which I foolishly indulged for the best part of two hours, and subsequently spent the next week regretting. Not as much as I regret the text I sent whilst drunk on Fri night, however – I had planned to delete his number from my phone again (honest!) but didn’t get around to it, and once again the booze won out.

The stupid thing is I KNOW for a fact it’s not going anywhere, I just have this tragic (though, under the circumstances, probably quite understandable) need to be wanted, and someone who shows sporadic signs of wanting me (at best) poses a challenge to my otherwise unoccupied mind. Aha – so at last we have reached the moral of this woeful tale, which is that I must occupy my mind with more productive pursuits…..

….the Writing! Of course! It’s all about the Writing! Which is just as well, because in the past few days I’ve begun to rediscover the reasons why I love to write, instead of wallowing in the realm of those who edit-purely-to-be-published. My stepfather highlighted the need to write for the sake of writing rather than for other people during a particularly pleasant dinner at a French restaurant in South Ken last Wednesday (the best part being the house speciality drink – champagne with a splash of Armagnac and a sliver of orange peel. For drinks like that I’d happily become an alcoholic..or should that be remain one..). To revisit the pure joy of writing I’ve downed tools (again) on my original novel and have gone back to an idea I had a couple of years ago, which I wrote two chapters on and then consigned to the virtual drawers of my computer filing system never to be seen again. And guess what? I love it! I really, really love it. The concept, the feeling of freedom to work on something new, building something from nothing – THIS is what writing’s all about, not the desire to see your name in print and have every Tom, Dick or Harry (Potter) in the literary world pat you on the back and sing your praises (though obviously that would be a nice by-product!)

Another thing I am loving (see, I knew I’d bash out the negativity eventually) is my new bedroom – though of course I do miss housemate Richard tremendously, I simply can’t deny I’ve been a hundred times happier in the house since moving into his bedroom, which is twice the size of my old abode and much brighter. It’s really quite astounding what an effect having more personal space can have on your mood, and once I’ve got a desk installed I really will have the perfect space to write in, which is so, so important to me.

In other news, the credit crunch is biting hard – all around me friends are being made redundant, breaking up with their boyfriends…it’s been a pretty harsh start to the year all in all and I can’t deny it’s sometimes difficult to hold it together for everyone else whilst at the same time stopping myself from falling apart. I do appreciate how lucky I am to have a stable job, however, and in these times of economic uncertainty my recent pay rise is definitely something to be proud of.

That’s not to say I’m not still harbouring dreams of jetting of to some exotic climes for a much needed bout of soul searching, but I’d be a fool to do that at the minute when everything’s so uncertain. The ‘nearing 30 panic’ is upon me, almost certainly prematurely, but I have to remain in control and try to let my rational mind win out. It’s NOT too late to do the things I’ve dreamed of, travel, meet someone special, get married, have kids, write novels…it’s really NOT, so I just need to wind my neck in and stop worrying. Worrying gets you nowhere in life – believe me, I know, I’ve spent a lifetime doing it! Would be good if I could have a few months off engagement announcements and such like though. They never fail to make you feel well and truly left on the shelf - dusty, even. In fact, at my friends' wedding in August I've been informed I'll be the only single person on my table. Deep joy. Oh well, at least another Valentine’s Day has been and gone and left me virtually unscathed (bar the ritual liver damage which now accompanies most of my weekend activities and will, sooner rather than later, need addressing).

I should stop writing now, but for some reason today I just feel that there is so much to be said. On love, on loss, on loyalty (something that’s been tested to the limit recently with some rather upsetting revelations about a few school friends, who exchanged some negative texts about me which I had the misfortune to read by mistake – long story, but has left me wary to say the least), on the nature of life and why we’re here, what we’re hoping to achieve and whether our aspirations are greater than our abilities. But as it’s only Tuesday and I’ve already exhausted myself with such thoughts to the point of distraction, I shall endeavour to finish this rambling post by regaling you with more light-hearted brain fare. Some of my recent exploits are listed below:

- Wine tasting at Vinopolis (drank four peoples’ allowance of wine between two of us and sat at the back of the room giggling like naughty school children – what can I say? It’s not in my nature to behave in a classroom setting. Clearly some things never change)

- Pre-Baftas film party at Diva Beach in Fulham. Pretentious, brash and brassy (by which am referring not only to the décor but also the people) but brilliant! And the film producer whose bash it was has since got in touch asking me out on a date, so could be worse!

- Clapham grand – visited this Inferno-esque establishment in a nod to my University days and was reminded in no uncertain terms that sticky floors, copious amounts of jagermeister and drunk privately educated knobheads are not the best of combinations. Enough said..

- Afternoon tea at Sketch; after the initial shock of realising it was the same place I went to (when very drunk) with Henley man from last year on our disastrous date, I actually really enjoyed it. Very quirky venue, kitsch furniture, reasonably priced cream tea (a tenner for three scones and a pot of tea – bargain!) In other words, a truly lovely venue in which to while away a couple of hours on Valentine’s afternoon.

- “Rockioke” – The Tooting Tram and Social was actually a very funky venue, but the rock-themed karaoke part of the evening was rather less so. Still, true to form we made the most of it and got into the spirit of things (by which I do of course mean we all got so drunk we no longer cared that we were listening to out of tune screeching drunk women singing Black Velvet)

- Sushi – I love sushi, simple as that. And if it comes with filthy banter from the girls, better still.

Ah, my life. Such an eclectic mix of emotion, worry, blind panic, alcoholism, friendship, crap men, food…..who could ask for more?!