The cheek of it.
The utter GOWL of it.
Whatever, take your judgement elsewhere. This is a place of merriment, I tell you! Also a place of whining, though. And bitching. Also occasionally moaning.
So my last post was over a year ago. A lot can change in a year. Par example, BBB and myself are no more. We broke up in November, but my first clue of our imminent doom came months before that, when he went to Switzerland for the day.
He drove up to Geneva to see the car show, and as I would rather stick a needle in my eye than go through that torturous hell, I stayed at home to "work on my thesis". He said he would bring me back a present, so immediately I was buzzin off my head as I thought that my lifelong dream of owning a little cuckoo clock (a real one, now) was about to come true. He's hardly going to get me anything else - my utter abhorrence of teddies is well known by anyone who knows me, and I'm not a big chocolate person either. That narrows it down to a cuckoo clock or a fine lump of cheese, both of which I would welcome. Buzz buzz buzz all down the day thinking about me little cuckoo clock-to-be.
Cut to the evening when he comes in the door home. "I got you a present!" he says. Be still, my beating heart. "I went into a shop and all they had was either teddies or cuckoo clocks", he says, with a cheeky twinkle in his eye, implying that the choice was obvious. He puts his hand into his bag, my pulse quickens. He rummages around and finally pulls out...a little teddy. There are no words to adequately describe the feeling I had just then. Not childish disappointment because he didn't choose the cuckoo clock; something deeper, something dark, with distinct tones of dread:
It's not going to be him.
Oh no. Noooooooooo. Stomach pains. World-crumbling feelings of wretched despair.
The adorable puppy face he is making and the fact that he was thoughtful enough to pick out a teddy for me is only making the pain worse.
He's not going to be The Fella. Oh no. It's not him. Oh bollixy bullshit crapbags.
Shur it's only a matter of time now. Now that I know he doesn't understand me and never will, it's only a matter of time before the crippling loneliness of being with someone who doesn't understand you gets the better of me and I do my signature runner. AGAIN. Fuck sake, like. What the fuck?! Can't wait to die alone. I'd say it's going to be some laugh.
As predicted, several months down the road I cut him loose. I had moved back to Dublin by then and I loved doing my own thing and to be honest the whole long-distance relationship thing would have been fine for me were it not for the whole have-to-ring-the-other-person-every-day-or-else-they-will-bombard-me-with-missed-calls-and-messages-telling-me-I-am-neglecting-them thing. I just couldn't deal with it. Plus when he came to visit he basically wrecked my head. He just didn't fit into my life here. I should have listened to my friend Kazza's advice when she said "never take a foreigner out of context". Wise words.
Anyway I'm much happier now that the pressure is off. Although he's still on my Top Ten Rides of the Universe list. Right up there with Kevin Costner in Dances with Wolves. Oh early 90's Kevin, it would be an honour and a privilege to cause you a sex-related personal injury.
In other news, I'm back in Dublin. Think I might lurk here for a few months more and then who knows? How are the rest of ye doing anyway?
Are ye well?
Cos ye're lookin well.