Saturday, 31 December 2005

So long and thanks for all the fish

I will most likely be spending the evening with J, eating a lovely dinner he has promised to cook (once Liverpool FC are done doing whatever it is they do this afternoon) and maybe playing the board game I got for Christmas from my Brother and his girlfriend.

It will be the first time in my life when I'm not at a big party for New Year.

Even when I was a child, I used to go with my parents, there were always other kids around and fireworks and sparklers.

This year, my goal is not to fall for the temptation of wearing sweatpants and an old sweather. I really should make an effort. I even waxed my upper lip this morning in anticipation.

It's strange. Although I know I will miss my friends, it feels quite right to spend the day with J, to take stock of the year we had and wait for the new one to arrive.

Last New Year I spent half the evening on the phone to him (great hostessing, I know). I can't remember what we talked about, but we stayed on the phone until about three in the morning.

The next day his mother was concerned he had called a phone sex line.

It's that time of the year again. I was going to wait and post this tomorrow morning, but then I thought 2006 should really be spent looking forward, not back.

So here it goes. And a very happy New Year to everyone!

1. What did you do in 2005 that you had never done before?

Went on a couply holiday (that is; holiday with other couples). Still in denial about it

2. Did you stick to your new year resolutions, and will you be making any
new ones for this year?

I can't remember what it was last year, but this year it's definitely going to be healthier living

3. What countries have you visited?

Hungary, Spain, Ireland

4. What would you like to have in 2006 which you were missing in 2005?

An engagement ring. My own flat

5. What dates from 2005 will be eched onto your memory, and why?

I can't remember a single one! Is that bad? Or maybe I should say the day J decided to give us a serious go. It was back in Feb sometime

6. What was the greatest thing you did all year?

The cathedral in Sevilla was impressive. Otherwise, setting up a blog with my friends was a good idea

7. Did you suffer from illness or wrongdoing?

I don't think I've ever been sick as much as I've been this year! I've had a cold for at least 25% of the time. It's ridiculous. And then there's all the men who've yelled after me on the street (wrongdoing!). Don't even get me started


8. What was your best buy?

The PS2, GTA San Andreas and a white skirt I got from Kookai

9. What was your worst buy?

I got this orange top from Zara cause I ran out of clean shirts. In retrospect I am certain they'd have other better colours. I also got an out of date Lancome moisturiser while on holiday, which I was then unable to return. Curse you, expensive toiletries

10. Whose behaviour deserves celebration?

Mine! My mother's. And sometimes, J's

11. Whose behaviour made you scared and depressed?

His mum's. Not so much scared, mostly the latter

12. What did you spend the most money on?

Travelling and eating out (no jokes, pls)

13. What made you really happy?

Realising I was actually celebrating Christmas with J

15 (surely 14?) What song will remind you of 2005?

I can't remember any! Although I could say 'Beautiful' by James Blunt. But that would just be too embarrassing, even on this anonymous blog

16. Compared with last year this time, are you:
a) Happier or unhappier? Happier, definitely
b) Fatter or skinnier? About the same, I like to think, but it could potentially be a little fatter...
c) Richer or poorer? Richer. But it won't last

17. What do you wish you had done more of?

Read more books, spent more quality time at home

18. What do you wish you had spent less time doing?

Being really tired due to work

19. How do you want to celebrate Christmas in 2006?

At home with my family and friends. Same procedure as every year, pls

20. Did you fall in love in 2005?

No, but I still was, if that counts

21. How many one-night stands?

None! Amazing

22. What was your favourite show on TV?

Life in the Undergrowth. Insects rock

23. Books in 2005?
Not enough.
a) The best - "The Master and Margarita" by Bulgakov
b) The funniest - I don't really go for funny books
c) The most obvious - Or obvious ones... Although Kate Atkinson's "Case Histories" was pretty bloody obvious
d) The worst - I've miraculously managed to avoid bad ones this year
e) The one to which I had the greatest expectations - "The Master and Margarita". And it paid off! Especially the part with the cat and the chess board

24. Greatest discovery in music?

None. God, I'm getting old!

25. Favourite film of the year?

Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang and Serenity. I'm working on Firefly now

26. Worst film?

Arrr... There was a lot of badness but I seem to have successfully blocked it from my memory. Can I go for Space Cadets although it's not a film really? The crapness, it's amazing

27. What wish did you make that was fulfilled?

To stick it out with my boyfriend

28. Unfulfilled wishes?

I'm not engaged yet!! Errr... No, I really wanted to win the lottery and become a successful self-published writer. And move home

29. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?

I was 27 and had drinks with my best friend

30. How would you describe your personal style in 2004?

"Messy, yet stylish"

31. What political issue did you feel most strongly about?

The survival of the welfare state and social democracy in the face of conservative forces

32. What do you miss the most?

My friends

33. What person are you the most happy that you met last year?

J's best friend. He's very fun

34. Valuable lesson of live learned in 2004?

Trust your instincts, even when they're wrong.


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Friday, 30 December 2005

Quantity vs. quality

J said that he thinks that in a week where we don't see each other much, we have about the same number of arguments and bad moments as in a week where we see each other lots.

Cuddles -the staple of any great relationshipIt's true. I don't know why.

You'd think that if we saw each other less, we'd focus on being nice to each other and bicker less.

But that's not the case.

When we don't see each other much, everything about J annoys me more.

If he's 10 minutes late, I get restless; if I give him advice while he's cooking dinner he takes as a criticism which I then find irritating, and so on.

Maybe it's because when we barely see each other, it's because we're generally busy and stressed, which makes us touchy and critical of everything including each other.

Also, all we do is eat in front of the TV before passing out in bed, with or without having sex first (depending not on energy levels but on morning schedule).

Hardly conducive to a great relationship, I know.

And indeed, after having spent a whole week together, only punctured by me spending time seperately with my friends on a few occasions, things are going exceptionally well.

We had a really lovely day yesterday; we got back quite early, watched Elf on DVD (which in addition to being a completely ridiculous piece of film making, annoyingly was scratched at the last scene; anyone want to tell me how it ended?!) and ate and talked lots.

I don't think anyone has ever liked me as much as J does.

I say that not because I think he likes me extremely well, as I know he finds me annoying at times, but because he seems to make a conscious effort to like me even when I'm unlikeable, eg. in a grumpy mood or unshowered in my house clothes (an outfit I am not allowed by myself to wear more than a block from my flat).

I told him this, and he told me later on in the evening that it really meant something to him.

Maybe because he doubts his own feelings for me so much, he relies too much on my judgement of them.

Maybe I should just say "but clearly you do love me!" and see what happens.

Yeah right. Tried that. Didn't work.

Although he did say that "there is definitely something there".

And then he asked for a cuddle.

He had a hard time getting out of bed after tucking me in for my early night.

And now I'm wondering if planting the idea in his head that he might after all love me but be in denial about it, is unethical.

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Friday, 23 December 2005

Mums are for life, not just for Christmas

As you will all know by now I've wrestled J away from his mum for Chrismas.

This means his brother and his family will get the pleasure of dealing with her for the holidays, but it also means that they've, reasonably enough, chosen to escape for New Year's, leaving the mum to us as we'll be back by then.


Her tongue really is this pointy
Because I'm working fairly early on New Year's day, I would prefer to stay at home. I am more than willing to cook a delicious meal for J and mother, and J agreed that inviting her to spend it with us would be a fair thing to do.

The fact that she refused to spend Christmas with Brother (thinking it's easier for them to bring three kids, a dog and related paraphernalia to her than vice versa) should have been a warning signal I suppose.

So J called her, invited her and said it would be an excellent opportunity for her to see his new home, and she would also be spared the pain of cooking for us.

She refused flatly, saying in the martyred tone only a mother can muster that 'we should just go ahead and make alternative plans without her'.

ARRRGH!

This won't exactly go in the top 5 list of 'reasons she's very difficult', but it's a strong contender for the top 10.

I think it is especially ungrateful because I think New Year's is generally a time spent with friends, not with family, and she should be positively surprised that her adult offspring gives her any thought at all.

J and I recently had a conversation where we agreed that neither of us will criticise her as much as we used to anymore, because if he does, I think it gives me carte blanche to do the same, but of course no matter how much you hate your parents you don't want others to feel the same way.

So I'm not saying anything.

J says he thinks she'll change her mind last second to save face, as she'll realise this all reflects badly on her.

I find it kind of endearing that he has such faith in her, and simultaneously sad that he's so brain washed. I realise she's his mum and of course he loves her, but that doesn't mean he has to put up with her crap.

OK, so here goes the top 5 list of unreasonable things she's done in 2005.

  1. She told her daughter-in-law she's a bad parent
  2. When they took her abroad on holiday for her birthday, she complained she doesn't like to leave home and sulked for the whole weekend
  3. She refuses to spend Christmas with her family unless it's at her house
  4. When J stored his stuff in her garden house for two weeks longer than planned, she complained she wanted to refurbish it and he was hindering her (it had been empty for three years previous to this)
  5. Every time I see her, she brings up the episode of me cocking up a portion of rice I was boiling in her rice cooker

    OK, that last one really isn't so bad, but it's directly affecting me so I thought I'd include it. In addition to this is the constant stings she delivers which bring J down and make him feel he's never good enough.

    She's also completely failed to provide an example of appropriate human behaviour and kindness to her children, leading to all kinds of upsets with their partners.

    I feel inviting her over for New Year is an olive branch. The fact that she fails to take it demonstrates how completely self-absorbed and unconsiderate she really is.

    Am I being unreasonable? Is it really too much to ask that I don't have to see the new year in under this woman's roof?

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Thursday, 22 December 2005

How I think Christmas should be

Got home, there's a tree, cookies, lovely dinner and my lovely parents. I can already tell it's going to be good. Strangely, both me and my brother have found partners from strangely dysfunctional families, but I don't want to think about that for now.

J thinks I'm adorable when we're here, probably because I'm so happy and not homesick.

What belongs at Christmas for me:

  1. Church going. There should be church going at least once. I consider myself Christian but never usually go. On Christmas eve it's just lovely, with everyone dressed up and inevitably two spoilt brats on the row ahead of you, sceaming for sweets the whole way through the service. The minister says things that are relevant to people and doesn't ever talk about hell and damnation. I like that
  2. Snow. It only snows where I'm from about every 4 years on average. But snow does make it more Christmas'y
  3. A stocking. These days, I also prepare one for my parents, but my mum still does one for me and my current boyfriend. J is getting the Guardian in his, I'm getting a comic book
  4. Roast pork. An obscene amount for dinner, then a second helping around midnight after coffee, cakes and gifts. Just to remind me why I'd never want to be vegetarian
  5. Stuffing and roast potatoes. It's living in Britain that's done that to me. Before I used to be happy with plain boilt ones. And cranberry sauce can also be nice.
  6. Breakfast in pyjamas on Christmas Day. My mum says there are only two acceptable outfits; dressy or pyjamas. I like to opt for the dressing gown
  7. A walk with my best friend on Christmas Day. We've done it every year since we were about ten, when it used to be the only thing we were allowed to leave the house for on this holiest of days
  8. Cinema followed by drinks on Boxing Day. This year, I was going for Narnia, but it clashes with Liverpool. So football followed by drinks. Narnia to follow on the 27th
  9. Spending three days in a row with my family.
  10. Seeing all my friends who are off work for a whole week. That truly only happens once a year


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Wednesday, 21 December 2005

Cleaning therapy

I think the storm's blown over for this time.

After a second session of talk (J) and tears (me) everything seems to be OK again.

I cleaned the whole flat this morning, I felt almost happy afterwards. I don't know if this is a healthy coping strategy, but at any rate I think it's important to greet Christmas with a clean house. And it smells good.

I don't know why cleaning is so therapeutical. Maybe as I do it it helps me order my head.

I did a load of dishes today so big I had to empty the drying rack in the middle of it. Afterwards I almost felt happy.

Of course the whole suitcase thing wouldn't have been as upsetting for either of us if it weren't for the fact that he doesn't quite know where he's going with this relationship.

J said I feel lonely in our relationship sometimes because we're not going through the same experience. But I don't think that's right. You never experience the same as someone else, because you're not that person.

I was crying because I can tell I'm slowly becoming exhausted, and I recognise that feeling, where you know that you are shouldering a heavier burden than you're made for.

Which I think will always be the case in a relationship from time to time, but if it goes on for too long I know I'll get to a stage where smaller and smaller things have me down in tears, until I have to walk away from the whole thing to avoid dissolving into a puddle.

At the bottom of a hole which takes years to climb out from.

And I really don't want this to happen this time.

There is hope. J says he feels better and better about us, that he sometimes thinks we have a chance. And I am hoping that will be enough for me to hold on to.

As for what I'm getting from him for Christmas, I know I'm getting a cashmere v-neck which I asked for, and something else as a surprise.

He just came by my office to drop off an Amazon parcel because he's not going straight home after work, and although he claims it contains Depressed Flatmate's gift, I was forbidden to look inside it.

I am thinking Playstation game...

Then again I can't think of any games I actually want at the moment.

Except maybe Tekken5. Hint hint, people!

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Tuesday, 20 December 2005

Christmas gift nightmare

I should have known it, it was time for our bi-monthly me-in-tears session.

It startet very innocently (I thought).

Before J's birthday, we discussed several gift options. I am convinced he said he'd quite like a suitcase. And because I was feeling very organised, I bought him a very nice upright Samsonite one instead of asking him what he wants for Christmas, as this is usually only replied to by either an "I don't know" or a "well, just don't get me anything expensive", which isn't very helpful.

Get your own from tripp.co.uk.  They're very handy, honestlyI got a red suitcase, because
a) I think it's a pretty colour
and
b) my suitcase is black, and it always ends up almost getting mistaken for someone elses in airports.

Obviously I had to give him this before we go to my parent's on Thursday, so that
a) he could pack in it
and
b) I wouldn't have to haul it all the way to their house myself. Might ruin the surprise a bit.

The suitcase was delivered to my flat and has been sitting in a box on top of my wardrobe for about a month, but because J is supremely unobservant, he hadn't actually noticed it.

Last night I got home before him, and got help from Depressed Flatmate in wrapping it. Wrapping something that large was actually surprisingly challenging. We were both quite excited about the prospect of him getting it and I think I actually broke a sweat during the process.

Just as we were putting the last couple of pieces of cellotape on, he arrived back. Flatmate stalled him while I finished off the wrapping.

As he came in, I decided I might as well give it to him there and then, as my flat is too small to hide something that huge when it's wrapped in conspicuously brightly coloured paper anyway.

He was quite intrigued by the box, which since it was delivered was quite well taped-up.

When he managed to open it (upside down), his first words were: "It's a case. It's red!"

I am not going to repeat exactly what he said next because in my pain I can't actually remember it, but he basically mocked my choice of present IN FRONT OF DEPRESSED FLATMATE! who was so ashamed on his behalf for this supremely insensitive behaviour that she quietly withdrew to her room ahead of the storm she probably could see coming.

Then he said, "I'm sure I'll get used to it."

Then five minutes later, after a little smalltalk about our respective evenings which I was too shell-shocked to object to; "Does it come in any other colour?"

Then ten minutes later, "Maybe I can return it and get some clothes from there instead" (I'd got it from a department store, so this was definitely an option).

This is approximately where I started crying.

I thought he was mean, ungrateful and above all a bit inhumane and subnormal in his response to a present he wasn't expecting and was less than happy with.

Children are normally about eight when they learn that even if Auntie Beth gives them a gruesome sweather that's two sizes too large, they are still expected to appear grateful.

At about the age of 12 they understand that this is to spare Auntie Beth's feelings, as well as to avoid scalding from mum and dad.

That means I'm going out with an emotional 7-year old.

There are several reasons J objected to the gift, and several reasons I was upset (also apart from the above).

He objected mainly because he hates people trying to tell him how to do things (like packing for holidays) in a better way which differs from his. This includes people telling him what luggage to use. Since I have a similar suitcase and we've discussed the topic several times, he felt I think that I was trying to make a point.

On a lesser scale, he doesn't like things that stand out, like a red suitcase apparently would.

The mocking I think was not actually meant to hurt and humiliate me, it's just his dysfunctional reaction to a situation he doesn't know how to handle, and he's just too self-absorbed and unobservant to realise this is an incredibly hurtful thing to do to someone.

I genuinely felt he had torn my heart out and chopped it into little pieces while laughing in the way Jeremy Paxman does on University Challenge when someone gets a question wrong. For fun.

I was upset because he was being mean to me, no less in front of someone else, which is not something I ever want to experience from a boyfriend.

Also, he never likes anything I give him, yet refuses to be helpful in telling me what he wants, which makes me think he might end up as awful and difficult as his mother one day (I didn't say that, even in the heat of the moment that would have been devastating for him to hear). I could list examples but it would take too long.

Mostly, though, I think I was upset for two reasons.
a) I think that if he loved me, he would like the gift just because it was from me
and
b) If he respected me just a little, he would at least have had the decency to pretend he liked it and break the news of wanting to return it slightly differently.

In other words, it seemed to me that his reaction reflected badly on our relationship.

In hindsight though I see that most of all it reflects badly of his interpersonal skills.

When I explained how I felt he was very upset and supremely apologetic. The first thing he said when we woke this morning after absolutely not enough sleep was the he was sorry.

I told him that if he ever does anything like that again, I'll leave him. Once is forgiveable, twice is stupid from my side. I think he got the point.

I am saying it's all bygones now. It was actually not that much more painful than a lot of other things I've experienced while we've been going out.

And I'm just glad I didn't wait until tonight to give him the gift, as we're planning a romantic evning in (with Depressed Flatmate of course) with a nice dinner and a DVD. At least that can be a patching-up effort now instead of being ruined by his lack of consideration for others.

Of course, he'd decided this morning that he'll actually keep the suitcase.

Hopefully that's a good sign for something.


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Monday, 19 December 2005

Family ties

Incredibly, although J's mother is a complete nightmare (see below for latest strop story), his brother and his family are all really lovely.

We drove to see them in the countryside where they live on Saturday evening. We caught up with the parents in the village pub (yes, the village pub as there is only one) at the tail end of the Christmas do, and enjoyed a few drinks at their house after finding to our relief that the two youngest nieces hadn't burnt down the house while home alone.

J had prepared his annual food hamper for them for Christmas. He doesn't wrap them, so there was much excitement as it was put under the tree. I think he kind of wanted to keep it for himself. It is nice to see someone so genuinely excited to give a gift to someone else.

We didn't get to bed until nearer three, when I immediately passed out. I woke at about 910 in the morning with a very full bladder. As I went to the bathroom, I could hear Brother in lively discourse with Youngest Niece downstairs, along the lines of "No you can't go in there, they're probably still asleep!!".

The dispute was swiftly decided in the favour of YN as I flushed the toilet. She came rushing up the stair followed by the house dog and cat and straight into our room. J was very charmed.

We don't see them that often, and YN, who is only 4, had really grown up a lot just over the past few months. If only the process was as swift in her uncle.

She was much intrigued by his chest hair and also pointed out that he's her father's brother, just to reassert that's what an uncle is.

We were served tea in bed and then a very nice cooked breakfast with local bacon (we've probably driven past those very same happy pigs at some point this year) and then went for a walk where we ran into live horses and sheep and a lot of people who probably drive SUVs and gossip a lot behind each other's back.

Brother's Partner and I had a good bitch about J's mother, who had recently told her she's a lousy parent, which is clearly a thing which shouldn't be said to anyone, especially not your daughter-in-law. And especially not by someone who has managed to raise two supremely dysfunctional sons herself. To someone who sports three perfectly harmonious offspring.

The walk was followed by a hearty home-made lunch, and then we humoured Brother by going to church and singing carols with him, although we slipped away during the following socialising session among the SUVs parked outside the freezing cold countryside church.

Afterwards we prematurely dug into the hamper for sweets to accompany some creative Christmas decoration-making. J joined in and actually did quite well, although his hands are probably slightly too big for the purpose.

And then we headed home.

A lovely weekend. But omg, let's never move to the English countryside.

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Saturday, 17 December 2005

Date vs Girlfriend

J is leaving me.

Well, not as such.

But as we speak, he is moving his things from my overcrowded room to his new flat in the nice part of my postcode.

For the uninitiated, we're not breaking up. But our 1.5 month long circumstance-induced cohabitation is coming to an end. It's a little sad.

Although he won't technically sleep there until after Christmas as the room still stinks of paint. Which is nice because he'll be around at mine and I can keep playing house for a few more days. But it's also nasty, in the same way that peeling a band-aid off slowly is nasty.

They serve processed cheese slices, limp salad, fries fried in old oil, frozen spinach (heated but still) and it ws £31.50 for two people, with no alcohol!  How does this place survive?!  Honestly!Before I came into work this evening we went out for a meal.

We were really just meant to meet for some last-minute shopping, but when we met up J had decided he actually had time to sit down.

Some people call this procrastination. But it was a little romantic.

And despite awful food (we went to the Angus Steak House on Argyle St. as a joke; I would describe it but it would take up too much space), it was really nice.

We have been dating for over a year now, and our dates just keep getting better.

We hold hands and kiss lots, he smells of Herbal Essences and he likes to play with my hair which I like, even when I know he's just touched God knows how filthy surroundings on the London Underground.

I laugh at his jokes and get annoyed at what I think is false modesty and he thinks is genuine lack of self-esteem (in all fairness he's probably right here but that doesn't make it any less annoying), we argue about who's paying and talk about his hopeless boss and my annoying editor.

And it struck me today, maybe this is what he wants. He wants a Date. Someone he can meet up with, who laughs at his jokes and usually (skillfully) puts out afterwards. I'm not insinuating he's only after one thing, he's just not after a Girlfriend.

He wants someone to spend the evening and night with, not someone to spend his life with. I think that's partly why he enjoys our dates so much. And because he enjoys them, I enjoy them. And so on.

However, I'm such a good date that he chooses to put up with my ideas that we're meant to be forever. I'm such a good date that he sticks it out and hopes one day he'll wake up and feel I'm girlfriend material.

Of course he has to indulge me with a proper relationship while waiting for that revelation to happen.

It's a bit confusing, I know.

Especially considering we've already tangled our lives together to such a great extent, meeting parents, sharing friends, moving houses to be near each other.

Yet that is how I was thinking he might feel when I was watching him this evening, sampling my steak and carrying my shopping bags.

And I don't even know if it's possible to make a transition from Date to Girlfriend. Is it? Or are you just stuck as either one or the other? Do I just have to hope that he will decide he doesn't mind spending his life with someone who is a great date, but that he claims not to love?

All I want for Christmas is for him to come to his senses and make up his mind.

But for now, the only think I know for sure is that he'll still be there when I go home in a few hours, that he'll be asleep in my bed and that I can coax him into some morning sex and then we'll have breakfast before we go to see his nieces this weekend so I can hand over the Christmas presents I made for them.

And we'll laugh in the car and listen to Magic FM interspersed with Radio4 and World Service. If Take That comes on, I'll sing along as an 'omage to my gay ex. We'll stop at a motorway service and have food even worse than the ovrepriced crap we had tonight.

For a date, not bad.

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Friday, 16 December 2005

No sex makes you cranky

Well, at least it makes me cranky.

I don't necessarily even notice that lack of sex is the reason, but if it's been, say, more than 48 hours I start to get annoyed.

First at things like dust in the corners, dishes left overnight and other.

Then less rational things start to irk me, like when J fails to long-distance read my mind to know I wanted dried apricots when he went to the supermarket.

Then I start complaining. About everything. About delayed trains, expensive gas bills, why the US bombs the Middle East when they should really have the decency to remove Mugabe from Zimbabwe, and about how J doesn't love me.

It's incredibly how even sex every second day seems to iron out any irritation in a relationship and life in general.

If you get laid, everything seems great, your partner is the best in the world, your annoying boss just grand, owing money to the debt collector, who cares.

Maybe I have subnormal levels of serotonin and this is the way my body likes to combat it, but I'll have sex over Prozac any day.

I remember reading in Cosmopolitan when I was still a virgin about a couple which experimented with having sex every day for a month. It went very well although they were at times quite exhausted. I think that's possibly the best piece of advice to ever come out of Cosmo. Forget about "getting the man of your dreams" or "power dressing for work", just do it. More.

I am convinced that if people had more sex, the world would be a more peaceful place. I am of course talking about responsible, consensual protected sex here. Most importantly, nobody would have the energy to argue anymore.

With my ex boyfriend, I seriously think that if he wasn't of the kind who liked at least a quickie a day, he would have lasted a lot shorter than he did. Which might not have been a bad thing, but still. With him, sex was always the best part, despite it being more like a duty than an actual pleasure after the first six months.

With J, it's different. I think I'd forgotten what it was like to make love, rather than just shag. It's great. Even when I'm tired, or stressed, or sick, or when it's a bit rushed, or when I don't think I really feel like it, it's great. It's soothing. It's what it should always be like.

J thinks he is not a daily kind of person, and sometimes mock complains that I'm impossible to satisfy. Earlier on we ended up simultaneously saying "but it's been over 48 hrs!" (me) and "but it's only been about 48 hrs!" (him).

Which is not to say that he doesn't go to lengths to satisfy me; even if he's too tired for 'proper' sex he'll always offer 'alternative services', all of which he's very good at.

But I prefer it to be mutual. It's not just a quick O I'm after (I could do that for myself in about 3 min blank, sorry J), it's the whole thing. The smell of his skin, the quickening of the breath, the sweating, the collective exhaustedness afterwards.

Maybe this is an insecurity thing. Maybe if I knew J loved me, I wouldn't need reassurance every two days (at least!). I think it's partly that when we make love, I can tell he has feelings for me.

Not in a 'sex=love' way, but there's a connection there which is unusual and rare. He isn't very good at expressing this in other ways, despite being the most articulate man I've ever met.

Or maybe I just like it, like it when I wake up with his hard-on poking my butt-cheek in the morning. Despite claiming "not to be very interested in sex" when we first met, he finds it very hard to say no if I start playing with it.

Especially efficient if he's still asleep and can't stop me until it's too late.

A man can't help his morning wood... So I figure an annoyance-free future is ahead of me if I can only persuade my love to stay with me.

And if you are arguing with your partner a lot, put down a moratorium on hair-splitting for two weeks and shag instead. I swear it works.

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Thursday, 15 December 2005

Moving-out day approaching

It is funny. Having lived with J for about 1.5 months now, the day of his departure (to a much smaller room in a much nicer flat about 15 min from me) is now imminent.

In a way I'm looking forward to it.

I love having him around. I love coming home from my shift in the morning, to find him snuggled up in my bed, fast asleep. He does this thing where he throws out an arm for a cuddle when he hears me open the door, then passes back out before I have a chance to respond.

I like calling him and telling him I'm making dinner, whereupon he says "oh, don't worry about me, I can get something later, after you've gone to work", and then him arriving completely starving and very grateful for a delicious meal waiting on the table (today we had roast mediterranean veg and grilled halloumi cheese with couscous).

I don't even mind folding up his laundry that he leaves lying around for days and the fact that he never 'has time' to clean the bathroom.

But as I say, I also look forward to it. Because we get on really well living in the same house. So it makes me think what else it is he wants. Does he think it gets any better than this? Because it doesn't. But maybe he doesn't realise that.

It hurts that he seems to like living with me so much, yet he doesn't want to. I don't understand it, and he's not very good at explaining it without saying things like "I just don't feel right about you" and other things I like to not think about.

And maybe I resent him a little because he leaves me stranded with Depressed Flatmate to deal with all by myself.

When he finally packs his bags and leaves, at least I won't have to think about these things every single day. I can just pretend we never lived together at all, pretend he doesn't know what he's missing.

But on the other hand I respect him for standing up to me, and not moving in with me just because I want to.

And as P says, we've only been going out for a year. Lots of people go out for many times that and don't move in together. Although I suspect he only says that because I used to make fun of him for not moving in with his girlfriend of two years.

On a less emotional level I also look forward to reclaiming some wardrobe space so that my silk tops and dresses won't be all crumpled for Christmas from being squashed in next to his big bulky coats and squash raquets.

But as it turns out, due to the person vacating his new room being spectacularly disorganised, he won't really be moving properly until after we get back from the Christmas break.

I can't see how he can't change his mind about it. At the end of Jan I am moving out of my flat due to my new job, and don't know where I'll be living. His present engagement ends in March. I can see myself putting my foot down then. It is one thing not knowing if you want to stay with someone forever, but quite another to not be willing to decide to try your best to make it that way.

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Wednesday, 14 December 2005

Kudos to J

I know I occasionally do complain about J, such little and insignificant things as him not loving me etc., but for once, can I just spend a whole post saying how great he really is.

Last night was my office night out for Christmas; one of several but this was the big posh one, with dressing up, no partners allowed and, crucially, the free drinks. I am sure you can see where I'm going with this.

I made a proper effort and got a new outfit, which looked fantastic. J was very admiring, and that was the evening before when I was having a little dress rehersal fashion show in my living room deciding on accessories.

"You've gone for the classy act," he said (sounding surprised), "I don't ever think I've seen you look this good before." It was all very sophisitcated and sensible.

Of course, having hung up all night the straps of the dress had stretched a little, and I had to do some last second alterations to prevent my tits from falling out completely. This meant I didn't really have time to eat as much as I should have before leaving. Mistake number one.

As I arrived at the pub for pre-party drinks I thought I took it quite easy and only had two drinks. Then we went to the big party, and I was very sociable, making an effort to talk to people not in my department and such. I actually only had three more drinks. Admittedly two lethal coctails and a very large glass of red.

After a very personal conversation with my best friend P, where he routinely told me he wants to break up with his girlfriend (she's actually very nice and he's only actually gone through with it once), he told me I'd had enough and should head home. This was probably around 2300.

For once, I decided to heed his advice and got on the tube. At first I thought I felt fine, but after a while I started to look longingly at people with plastic bags. You know that's not a good sign.

After about 6 stops I decided, probably wisely, to go outside, get some fresh air, and finish the journey by bus. At the bus stop I called J and told him I was coming home; apparently I'd also asked him to wait up.

When I got home I felt miserable, I knew I was going to be sick and that it wouldn't be pretty. J was soooo sweet! He lined a paper basket with bags and even tried to put a couple of fingers down my throat, which didn't do much (he should know that from my blowjobs, although sex was probably not on his mind at the time) but it was a nice gesture.

I was violently ill twice and then went to sleep. He held my hand all through the night and fed me banana and water from the fridge before going to work this morning (I was still drunk).

I think that's a really good sign; he was still kissing me this morning although I must have been exceedingly disgusting. Also, I know he'll be capable of taking care of sick children should we ever have any. Which is good, because I actually have emitofobia; I think my slack gag reflex is a psychological byproduct of this.

Having spent all day feeling rather ill and weak, it is good to know that tonight is J's office night out. Although I have to say I hope I won't have to repay the favour.

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Sunday, 11 December 2005

The winner takes it all

When we first met, J said to me, "you're the kind of girl who becomes someone's love of their life, but not necessarily the type they'd marry."

Right then, I knew this was a man of wisdom.

I am indeed the kind of girl every man feels the urge to dote on, yet not in a wifely or even girlfriendly way.

Without wishing to bang my own drum (that's bullshit, I love banging my own drum, but felt I had to say that to sound Britishly modest), I've been told numerous times by several men how wonderful I am, how I've been told things nobody has known about them before, how I am intelligent and make them laugh, how great my blowjobs are (yes, really) and also, oddly, how nice my breasts are.

Maybe men say that last thing to every woman they see naked, but it's odd how they've all mostly chosen to concentrate on that one area of my body. Except J, he likes my tummy a lot. I think this is a good sign.

I know there is a kind of woman that you would like as a friend, but that you're never going to sleep with, because they just aren't that attractive. I have that kind of male friend, several actually. You occasionally consider giving them a charity shag, but always find a morally questionable reason not to. That's not the kind of category I think I fall into though.

I'm the kind of girl men think is great, because she can talk about video games and football, but can also cook, sew, drive, dress them well and be great in bed.

For some reason, this is not what they want. They think being friends with me is great, and are over the moon if I put out. And then they meet some godawful, boring English rose who is an accountant and has no idea Tekken is not a rugby team. And then they move in with her! Marry her! Why?! I only ask, why?!

And I sit there and think, oh my god, this is never going to last.

And three months / years later they come crawling and tell me how it's not really working, she doesn't understand them the way I do and do I think there'll ever be a chance we'll get together in the future?

To which I say yes, and then I have to go shag my present boyfriend (I sometimes do have boyfriends in whom I'm not really that interested) in a broom cupboard to eradicate my bad conscience.

This is clearly not good.

Maybe I suffer from the same thing myself. I have sometimes failed to go for the person I really wanted because of a lack of confidence, because if you feel for someone so strongly, the prospect of knowing for certain that it could never, ever, work is just too painful.

So you settle for not trying properly, because at least then you can think that if you'd only tried, it might have worked out and you would have lived blissfully ever after.

I hope in a way that this is how J feels about me, that he is scared to admit he really does want to try properly because failing would be so awful. He has said many times that if it were to work with anyone, it would be with me.

Other people have said this, before going off to be with their insipid (although I admit sometimes exceptionally pretty) harmless proper girlfriends, before coming back and admitting they did really want me all along. But then it's too late.

I'm not letting that happen this time. Maybe it's something about me, maybe men feel more assured by women who need them more.

But I need J too, just not in a practical kind of way as I can do my own DIY.

The winner takes it all, and I'm not letting some boring, fashion-obsessed, shallow, conventional future house wife get the better of me this time.

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Saturday, 10 December 2005

Is it cause I don't like football??

I'm in the pub, watching the Liverpool/Middlesborough game (or at least I'm assuming that's who the blue people were). I watch it for about 68 min. There are no goals.

J's friend starts saying he can see this turning into a 0-0 game. J says that it's when people start saying things like that, that teams end up not scoring.

I don't actually not like football. I used to play football myself. Naturally I always sucked (although less so since I moved to the UK), but I do know my offside from my corners and you do get to see men's legs, so generally I don't mind. I just can't really bring myself to care who wins, unless it's the World Cup or something (did anyone else watch the draw? It was like the Eurovision but with no music!).

So for as long as I am there, looking at the screen, umm-ing and ah-ing along with everyone else, nothing happens.

There are lots of chances, Gerrard is doing some good work and Riise is as ugly as ever, but noone scores. They seem to lack that certain je ne sais quoi, or whatever it's called in football.

I eat my food, leave the pub, get into the office 10 min later. Literally ten minutes later.

As nothing is working on my PC, I call IT support. I hear Sky sports in the background. "Watching the football?" I ask the Scottish IT guy (I recognise his voice from our frequent and relatively pleasant phone exchanges, but have no idea what he looks like, or indeed whether he cares about English football).

"Yeah", he says. "2-0 to Liverpool".

I scramble for Sky on the office TV. I find it. There's been yellow cards, possibly red cards, AND TWO GOALS! SINCE I LEFT THE PUB!

Is this a coincidence? Or was it my innter lack of enthusiasm which put a damper on the game until I wasn't watching it anymore? Uncanny if you ask me.

Anyway. The point I really wanted to make, was that as we made it to the pub, five minutes before game was starting, there were no tables free.

Also I was the only woman in there, except the bar maid and someone I could only see from behind who might have been a very ugly woman or a slightly voluptuous man. What do British girls do in the weekend between 1300-1500? Where are they? Shopping?

But I digress again.

So I ask this guy who's clutching a pint at his table if it's OK if we share it, there's only the three of us and it's a big table. He says yes.

We sit down, peruse the snack menu, chatting about other stuff, and the guy says, "I'll move over here, cause I'm here to watch the footie." "So are we," I say, "no worries".

"Oh, it's OK," he says, "I'm not staying till the end, my girlfriend is arriving."

I just think that's bizarre. That's just evil. You can not go to a pub and force your boyfriend out of there 15 min before the game is over. Your mum's lunch can wait.

Girls drag their husbands shopping for hours on end, which is quite a hateful experience if you don't like shopping. So how come they can't stick it out for a couple of hours in the pub once a week?

Or is it that the boyfriends don't invite them along? J always insists I come if I'm not doing anything else. I'm not entirely sure why, but I think he likes to have something uplifting to clutch should Liverpool fail him (which they often do, although not as much as would have been the case a few years ago I guess).

I always thought part of being in a relationship is doing things you wouldn't otherwise. When you do something with someone who really enjoys it, and you really like them, the activity becomes more enjoyable because it's nice to see the person you like enjoying themselves.

I don't mean at all that you have to do everything together, all the time, but I think it's wrong to refuse to come along to something just because 'it's not your thing'.

Maybe me watching football isn't a good example, because I might end up doing it if I didn't have a boyfriend, although I probably wouldn't end up trekking to a pub on a Saturday morning.
Still, though, for me it's important to watch J enjoy things I enjoy, and I don't feel I can expect that without reciprocating.

So I keep taking him to Sci-fi and horror films (he recently fell asleep during Harry Potter, although he claimed to enjoy the first 90 min - that's football attention span for you), and he keeps taking me to football.


No, J, that's not the European cup.

I feel it's a good compromise.

Although maybe not if it makes Liverpool almost loose. I should probably make sure I always leave the pub 15 min early just in case.

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Wednesday, 7 December 2005

High achievers, hard fallers

Right.

What I actually meant to write about is big choices. Not little ones like 'what do I get my mum for Christmas' but big ones, like 'what country do I want to spend the rest of my life in' and 'do I ever want to have children'.

Now the good thing about these big ones is that you can obviously always change your mind; once you've decided to live in the Bahamas you could always just change your mind and move to the Dominican Republic after a few years.

But as you get older, it appears these large shifts in life get trickier to pull off.

I always wanted to work in the media, ever since I was about 12 years old and realised that if I became a vet it would lead to me having a zoo at home consisting of animals I was too soft to put down.

And now I am, and I feel disillusioned.

This could be partly because I was always best at everything, at school and university I was a 'high achiever'. I didn't even make an effort to be that way, nor did my parents push me. I just did my work and had friends and all the teachers liked me, the combination of which is in itself a wonder.

But of course, unless you're incredibly well connected you will usually enter the media industry from the bottom. I don't resent this, although one of my colleagues did point out that it's not necessarily very stimulating to be in a job "which could be done by a mentally challenged 12-year old with his eyes closed".

However, there are just very few opportunities to shine. You show up on time, you do your job, you go home. It is not that everyone else here is better at the job, or cleverer than me, it's just that it is so basic in many ways that nobody will notice whether or not you are actually making an effort.

So now I am thinking of leaving, despite being promoted from February onwards. I have realised that sticking it out here means years of slugging through the grades as a desk journalist, when what I really want is to work with people.

Am I just being too impatient? Obviously if I change careers to psychology it will mean starting from the bottom again, although depressingly I would earn more than I do now because of the crap wages of the media sector.

At least if I change careers I get to do hands-on work with real individuals, and I get to make a difference to people's life, if not constantly then at least on a regular basis. I could work with research which might actually mean something to someone. I don't mean to say that Big Brother and What Not To Wear aren't important parts of people's lives, but it really is not the same.

And more importantly, I could choose where I want to live, as many Western countries have an increasing demand for psychologists, rather than moving somewhere random as a journalist and being demoted to working for a local TV station (I think not!).

But am I giving up on a good thing because it's not feeding my ego enough? I love the environment I work in, the people I work with, how I come in every day and have no idea what will happen by the end of it.

Yet it's time to make up my mind.

If I don't move now, I might never do it and regret it for the rest of my life. If

I dont' move now, I'll never have 'time' to have a family, not that you ever have time really, but it is harder when you're still in full-time education.

But then again maybe I'm being too sensible and impatient and thereby depriving myself of a carreer I've always thought I wanted.

Sigh.

But if I regret it, I guess I could always become the next Cosmopolitan shrink, or something.

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Choices, choices

And I am not talking about the online retailer, although I did order something from there for my sister for Christmas just yesterday.

Every year I have the same dilemma with her (she is now 17): should I get her something I know she'll appreciate and actually use, or should I give her something she actually is asking for, but will forget about after about a week?

This year, it's about Singstar (for the uninitiated, it's a karaoke game for PS2). She wants the Singstar 80s game. Now I'm sure you can all calculate that she wasn't exactly there the first time around. Nor is she especially interested in vintage music of any kind.

The only reason she wants the 80s version rather than a previous version with songs she actually knows, is that it's the most recent edition and probably all her friends have bought it. This is usually the reason she wants anything at all.

I have no idea how my parents have managed to bring up two completely well-balanced individuals before bringing up one extremely materialistic child obsessed with labels and being exactly like her friends.

It annoys the hell out of me, but could of course just be a case of eldest-youngest envy or something. I just don't think you should want a coat that makes you look crap just because your friend has one. At any age. Being a teenager is no excuse for this.

So anyway, I decided against my better judgement to get her the 80s Singstar. Because if she got one she didn't want (even if she'd most likely have more fun with it) she would open it, say 'oh' with a really expressionless face, put it down and never look at it again. Sigh. When I have children... Then again, that's what everyone thinks.

Now I've sidetracked so far I think I'm going to have to do a separate post on the choices I actually meant to talk about. Arrrh.

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Tuesday, 6 December 2005

Believe

Lucky Cameron, as earlier mentioned today, has a new job. Although it was commented on that Davies looked smilier than him when the result was announced. Presumably he knows it might be quite a grim future ahead.

In my online self-absorbedness I've forgotten to detail that J too, in a slightly less prominent but I think no less important position, has started a new job.

He is so sweet in the process of settling in. Because he's so extroverted around me, I completely forget that around people he doesn't know he's a bit of a shrinking violet.

The environment he is in is also not of the retiring kind; he has described it as 'lovey', as in 'people call each other daahling and hug when they come back from holiday'.

It seems his manager is relatively disorganised, many of his colleagues were unaware that someone new was starting so his training has left something to be desired. So he has sat in the corner for a couple of days until someone finally noticed him today and gave him something to do. Which of course he did brilliantly, being the clever kind of chap he is.

I was talking to him earlier on right before he left work, and being genuinely encouraging. It is so nice to feel that way about someone; to truly believe they can do something and then feeling as proud when they achieve as if I'd done it myself.

Not that I want a high-flying trophy boyfriend, but I like to see the pleasure on his face when he knows he has done something well.

Performing well at work is probably more important to his mental well-being than to most people's, so in more than one ways it increases the chances we will work out as a couple as well.

I can just remember the horrible feeling when I first met my previous boyfriend. He brought me to his workplace to show me some of his work (he was in a creative kind of position) and I just hated it. I just knew he had no talent, that his artistic abilities were completely average, and that I could never tell him.

Would I have believed in him more if he had truly loved him? Maybe. Or maybe it is the less comfortable option, that I would have loved him more if he had been... more outstanding at what he did. Supposedly women like status, but it's not status I'm after, just that certain something which allows you to believe in someone.

And having someone who believes in you is so wonderful. I've been with people in the past, friends and partners, who have made me feel I could do anything. And maybe if I'd stuck with them I could have done anything. I'm stuck in life feeling I've underperformed a little, although I understand that's a common feeling in late twentysomethings.

I always promised myself I'd end up with someone like that, someone who made me feel like the sky is not the limit. I don't know if J does that. He is too analytical, too honest.

J will say things like 'oh I didn't have time to look at that email you sent me' whereas normal people would just say 'yeah, I read that, it was really funny'. Which on one hand is good, but on the other hand it means he doesn't build my dreams for me.

And sometimes it's a very lonely job to have to build them myself on a daily or hourly basis. Sometimes I feel really low and I just want someone to tell me with conviction, without being prompted, that everything will be OK.

Next spring I will be making some pretty substantial decisions about my future, and I think I will need to know if I am making them for me or for us.

Until then, however, I'll just stick my head in the sand and lovingly watch J learning to walk in his new job.

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New Tory leader

I was just watching Cameron at the Royal Academy, surrounded by a host of young Tories in stylish clothes. It is
a) uncanny how much he looks and sounds like a Tory Blair
b) incredible that there are that many young and good-looking Tories. Who have time to hang around in a staircase at 1550 on a Tuesday afternoon. Don't these people have jobs or something? Or maybe they just inherited lots of money.

I always thought that to be Conservative you'd have to be either relatively selfish or relatively stupid.

If you're rich, you're obviously not going to want to share your wealth, and you don't need good public services as you can send your kids to a posh single-sex public school and use private hospitals for your Botox.

If you're not rich and still Conservative, you must be a little stupid. Because the rich people obviously don't want to share with you (see above), so what is the point of voting for a party which allows them to not share? I get the American dream thing, obviously, but ask anyone working for Walmart in Ohio and they'll tell you it is just that; a dream.

Despite this, the UK's next prime minister looks increasingly likely to be called David, which is a little depressing. I feel like retreating to a country with a government which has the decency to at least pretend being social democratic.

I am also amused at how Cameron was mentioning the problem with 90% of Tory MPs being white males, and how he is going to remedy this by bringing in women. Funnily he didn't mention anything about non-whites. But I guess that in the Tory heartland of countryside England there aren't that many of them around anyway.

Give me a public service working, Guardian-reading man that can help me breed a new generation of Socialist revolutionaries any day. Oh wait, I have one already. Thank God for that. England; stick your Tory Blair up your arse.

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Monday, 5 December 2005

Life-work balance

There are probably some people who consciously plan to put career ahead of everything else in their life. Or their parents decide that for them when they're about three months old by sending them to a Japanese language nursery.

However, most people probably don't grow up and think their job will ever come ahead of their loved one.

Or maybe, like me, they didn't give the issue much thought at all as it never occurred to them that they'd ever be in a job important or demanding enough to invade their life outside the eight daily hours spent in the office.

I started my active working life behind a burger counter, and was excellent at remembering who wanted extra cucumbers and who wanted no dressing. Sounds simple, but it wasn't.

This set the precedent for a string of the kind of jobs which strangely require a certain level of intelligence and organisation, yet are mindnumbingly dull.

I didn't really plan for being in a job I actually enjoyed, where I wouldn't run out of the office at two minutes to five every day. I guess I passively hoped for this, but the nature of my jobs has changed so gradually that I just now realised I am in one of those jobs.

And at the same time, I have really begun to notice how working long hours and always being stressed really does have an impact on my relationship.

It is so obvious. Clearly if you never have quality time with your partner and all you do is wolf down some dinner, shag and pass out in bed for six hours of beauty sleep, this will be to the detriment of any bond between you. I don't even dare to think of what might happen if you don't even have the energy for cooking and sex.

It is obvious, yet I didn't ever think it was something I would have to deal with. I've always been competent, but never particularily ambitious. Money doesn't drive me, although that might change as I've also come to realise I'll never own a flat in London unless I sell my own mother on Ebay.

Still, we woke up yesterday morning and realised we couldn't remember the last day we actually spent a whole day together.

So we made the most of it, spending ages in bed before getting up and having an all you can eat Chinese buffet for breakfast/lunch. We sat there for ages and really ate all we could and some more, I swear the staff was starting to look worried after my first four plates of food.

Then we just strolled around, looking in shops and holding hands and chatting, before going home, watching a film, eating some more and going to bed early to share 'embarrassing moments from our sexual past'.

J said he has realised that the less time we spend together, the more pessimistic he feels about our relationship and vice versa.

I used to think this indicated something about his insecurity re. his feelings for me, but I've started to think this is actually a universal thing. I might even feel the same way myself.

My friend H and her boyfriend. for instance, commute for 3 hours each every day in opposite directions, and hardly ever actually see each other.

He has been saying lately he doesn't feel she appreciates their relationship enough, and thinks she wants out, which is not the case.

And we don't even have children yet.

I remember when I was about 18, a couple of the same age that I knew had officially reserved every second Wednesday for 'quality time' with each other. We all used to laugh at them for it.

But now it seems they were ahead of their time and actually quite clever. I think I might try to arrange something similar with J. As long as it doesn't clash with Match of the Day, obviously...

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Friday, 2 December 2005

Cooooughhhhh

Jokes about bird flu aside, being ill is not fun. I've had a cold now for almost four (!!) weeks.

I never used to be ill. Ever. I had no sick days off for the whole first six years I was at school, and now I've had two in as many months. I really think these shifts are slowly killing me.

But it's not just that. Not knowing where I stand in my life is also strenuous on a day to day basis.

Strangely I've become less anxious about the situation with J and me; maybe I've simply been too tired to care properly. Instead I've turned my irritation onto my poor still depressed flatmate.

Because she's depressed, she has of course largely stopped cleaning and tidying the flat or doing the dishes. J says that dishes are one of the first things to go, as you just stand there with nothing to think of and inevitably start feeling shit about something as a result. He pointed out that the view of an industrial back yard sported by my kitchen doesn't exactly help. Point taken. But someone still has to do the dishes.

And that someone is me.

I'm not completely OCD and it's not that I can't live with a bit of mess, but our kitchen is quite small and with three people using it at the moment, it needs a good clean daily. J does his share but he commutes for three hours every day so I think he's a little exempt from having to clean up after other people. So most of it falls on me.

It has started really annoying me. Having to pass on a phone call to my flat mate when she is clearly crying her eyes out in her room has started annoying me. Listening to her complaining / being paranoid about people in her office who are (understandably) concerned about her mental wellbeing is annoying me.

Yesterday I knew she was crying in her room, but I just couldn't find it in myself to knock on her door and ask if there was anything I could do. Rationally I know this does not make me into a bad person; first of all because there's not much I could do anyway and secondly because I am at the end of the day not responsible for her. Still, I do have a really bad conscience about everyhting. Which of course makes me more irritable. And so on.

Fortunately J has been incredibly sweet all week, rubbing vapo-rub on my chest and back and having sex with me despite me being in a less than most attractive state. And cooking food for me of course. And feeding me unhealthy snacks (inevitably eating more than half himself) and bringing me flowers. Maybe I should be sick more often.

Ironically, or maybe just coincidentally, I have also looked further into becoming a psychologist.

I know that might seem like a silly idea since having just two 'patients' are driving me nuts at the moment, but I find the field really interesting so am probably looking at a change of career this spring. Exciting stuff. I am hoping it'll be easier when I don't have to live with my clients...

Plus I really like the idea of being a 'Dr.' That's reason enough, right?

Although even being a 'Dr.' wouldn't help me cure this cold. *coughhh*. Arrrgh.

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