Thursday, 27 April 2006

Save a life today :: HNT X

Now normally I don't promote my blog tenants very heavily, but this week I'd really like you all to visit; a very cute toddler's life demonstrates one little thing you could all do to help world. Go on, click on him and take a break from tits and arse.

Here for half-nekkid madness? Skip to the pic here

Like to know how I am today? Please read on...

At home: J is going through a depressive phase, which is always a bit depressing for me too. First of all it's obviously depressing to see someone you love feel down on a daily basis, but also it makes him incredibly thin skinned and irritable.

This morning he snapped at me for no good reason, and although I know he can't really help it and doesn't ultimately mean anything by it, it still hurts.

It's a tricky situation, because I don't really feel like I can have a go back, because then he'll just start crying and talking about what a horrible person he is. Which of course would only make him worse for longer.

As it was, I just gave him the silent treatment for about 15 minutes and then gave him a task to do for me in order to make himself feel better.

I don't quite know what I can do to feel that I've stood up for myself at the same time as going easy on him. I don't really think he can help getting irritated about every little obstacle in life when he's like that, but it's tricky.

Living with someone who's depressed can apparently make you depressed, and I'm starting to see how that could work.

I'm no longer annoyed now, but I was wondering in the shower if I just have to shut myself off from him while it's going on for protection purposes. Which would of course be quite sad.

It's been a while since I indulged the voyeurs at HNT, so I thought today was the day.

Spring is here; my legs are quite pale but I've waxed them properly and hopefully will manage to tan them meanwhile.

It's No String time!
I was getting quite taken with the sight of my own skin while doing the photo session, so maybe I'll go home later and alleviate the depression of J and myself in the good old fashioned way.

Fortunately his low moods appear not to have a great impact on his ability to perform; if it did we probably wouldn't last very long!

I hadn't really planned in advance, so the photo is sneakily taken behind a shelf at work.

One of these days I'm going to photocopy my arse, scan it and post it.

HHNT everyone!

Wednesday, 26 April 2006

Gardening rocks

Something new has happened in my life to conquer the pleasures of sex, football and Buffy.

When I was little, I had a little vegetable patch in the garden; radishes (which I didn't like), carrots (which never grew, probably due to it being too cold and overmulching of the soil I know realise) and lettuce (which I also didn't like).

I think they're vegetables and not weeds...
Although I always did like the gardening part.

I used to collect earthworms in my pockets and build them houses; my mum was forever finding stray half-dead creatures in my pockets.

I also built houses from pebbles for snails and was very upset that they wouldn't live there despite me feeding them.

Since I've often lived with no outdoor space, I've not really had the chance to rediscover gardening until now.

The house I'm staying in at the moment has a large, south facing garden, and things grow there like weeds. Not the smokeable kind though, sadly.

My flatmate and I have planted sweetpeas, courgettes, radishes and lettuce (both of which I now like) and butterfly-attracting summer flowers. It's great!

I don't know what it is, but there is something incredibly therapeutic about spending a whole day on your hands and knees pulling out weeds and putting rocks in a bucket to prepare soil.

Not to mention the sight of the first shoots of planted seeds pushing through the surface.

I know it's a really clicheed and simple thing, but the fact that you can just put a seed in the earth and then it grows, it never seizes to amaze me.

I mean, how does it know which way to send the root and which way to send the shoot?

My house-building for snails days are long gone, but I still re-bury worms when I dig them up so that they won't get sunburnt and die.

Check back in a couple of months for pictures of lovely courgette dishes...

Tuesday, 25 April 2006

Ours will be Different

There is this saying that people would never have children if it weren't for the fact that they tell themselves that their children will be Different.

J & Me; harmonious toddler or Supernanny candidate?
I don't mean "riding in a small bus to school" different (no offense to those who did), I mean "different from those kids having temper tantrums in Tesco's and McDonalds whenever you go in".

Likewise, I think that it's impossible to enter a relationship after a couple of false starts without deluding yourself into thinking that "our relationship will be Different". Note the captial D.

My previous relationship turned me into a complete bitch (aka Girlfriend From Hell). I wasn't jealous or domineering, just incredibly criticising and cranky.

I've obviously told myself that this time around will be Different.

But low and behold, last night when I came home, Girlfriend From Hell made a visit.

I came home from work quite late on, and J had cranked up the heating (which I hate), hung the laundry to dry in the bedroom at the same time (read: sauna), and also hadn't made the bed.

We watched an episode of BtVS while I had my supper snack, and then went to bed. While making it he snapped at me, and I got so worked up about all those little things that I actually started crying.

Crazy you ask? Not half.

I like think I get upset about it because I feel insecure. I sort of think that if he loved me (which I like to think he does even if he says he doesn't know), he would pick up on these things.

But in hindsight I see of course that I have higher standards of cleanliness than him, I'm more efficient and he just likes a warm room. And it's irritating having to do it all by myself. The 'if you loved me' thing is partly a Girlfriend From Hell lame excuse.

But then on the other hand, his excuses do twist the knife. "I don't feel responsible for anything because it's not my house," he says. And yes, he is staying with me in my house for another week until we move.

It just makes me feel like he's very apprehensive about moving in with me, and that being passive is a way for him to be in denial about us living together (rather than him just visiting on a permanent basis).

To his defence, he did call me at work today to ask if there was anything he could do.

But I just want him to do it. Bizarrely, having to tell someone what to do constantly is quite tiring, and almost more annoying than just doing it yourself.

He says he'll pull himself together and do more when we actually live together and he feels like it's actually his house.

And of course he will. Because our relationship is Different...

Monday, 24 April 2006

A footballing Saturday

J likes Liverpool. A lot.

And, of course, I'm talking 'bout the Gerrard-led squad that brought the trophy home from Istanbul last year, rather than that Northern town which houses it.
Show me more close-ups of Alonso, and I shall take a greater interest in Liverpool...
My friend, who in a curiously parallel situation to mine is married to a depressive Man United fan (is there a link between football and depression, I ask), said that you have a choice of two scenarios.

  1. Be annoyed everytime the team plays (which is OFTEN, especially with them doing so well in the FA cup etc)
  2. Take an interest; realise you can't beat'em so you might as well join'em.
Personally, she said she'd opted for the the former.

"I can't say I feel his pain when they lose, exactly," she said. "But I do kind of enjoy it if they win."

And, seeing it as her approach has successfully lead to marriage, I've gone down the same route.

On Saturday, J, his best friend, his best friend's wife (who also opted for a), and got married; again I ask, is there a link?) and I enjoyed the FA cup semi-final, and I have to say that regardless of me not feeling very strongly for Liverpool, it's always a pleasure to see Chelsea beaten.

And, as usual, they did that thing with scoring as soon as I wasn't looking.

Then we had a lovely Sunday-style roast dinner and did some karaoke singing afterwards. It was a lovely day, actually.

I think I've achieved that perfect balance; it pleases me when Liverpool do well, but I don't really care when they don't.

Which brings me to the following very spot-on forward about this issue:



From her to her best friend:

"We went out for a meal in the evening, and the whole time he was really quitet. When I asked him what was wrong, he said it was nothing, but he ate hardly anything and I could tell something wasn't right. However, I put it down to him not liking the restaurant, but not wanting to tell me since I picked it.

But in the car home, he was still in a really bad mood. He didn't talk the whole way from the supermarket and to our flat, and when we got there, he plonked himself right in front of the TV, and completely ignored me.

I decided to go to bed early, and he followed about 45 minutes later. We made love, but it still wasn't right. His mind seemed to be elsewhere. I am convinced he's seeing someone else, and cried myself to sleep. I don't know what to do.

From him to his best friend:

"Lost badly at football, but fortunately got laid in the evening."


Take that to heart, sisters.

Thursday, 20 April 2006

On the subject of birthdays...

If it didn't mean getting older, I wouldn't mind having birthdays more often!

I like to think I spend 364 days of the year trying to put others first, so once a year it's just nice to be able to say 'it's all about me for 24 hrs'.

In fact, since it's just about my birthday, I think I'll extend the celebrations for a whole week... Still only less than 2% of the year selfish!

My 10 favourite birthday memories

  1. My first boyfriend kissing me on the cheek while my mum was photographing us at my 11th birthday party

    Cake. Everyone should have one
  2. Hiding in bus sheds to consume vast amounts of cheap wine to celebrate birthdays from 14-17 (can't really remember any of those, oddly, so maybe I can't really count those)
  3. The pink plastic ring I got from my two best boyfriends on my 18th birthday; I lost it later on the same evening, sadly
  4. The hardback copy of my favourite novel I got from my first love for my 19th birthday
  5. The hedgehog cake my gay ex got for my 21st birthday
  6. The party my flatmate, with whom I didn't get on at all, threw for me the same year
  7. The weed I got as a birthday present from my then shag-buddy on my 22nd birthday... With ensuing antics, obv.
  8. The instants my ex gave me on my 22 birthday, spread throughout the day to 'extend the excitement' -we didn't last, but it was a really nice gesture!
  9. The concern shown by my friend A when I almost got beaten up by a very aggressive lesbian on a train platform in London on my birthday last year
  10. The fact that J got me two different colours and sizes of silk dressing gown last year so I could "pick the one I liked best"

This list, I suspect, is soon to be extended to the memory of the cake J has baked for me.

He baked it last night, all on his own, and was completely amazed when the dough and the apples actually turned into what looks like it will be a very fine culinary experience.

My mother woke me at 0615 this morning with a happy birthday text; she does this on a regular basis for other occasions, and I suspect she's not too good on the whole "different time zones offset" calculation thing.

My father called me when I came into work, just to say happy birthday, and we managed to have a whole 3 min. conversation without arguing or planning to buy my mum something, which is rather unusual.

They are all very sweet.

Wednesday, 19 April 2006

Ten years on

It's my birthday this week!

Things I at 18 thought I would achieve over the next decade:

  1. Get a degree And a 1st too! Very proud.
  2. Get a proper job
  3. Get a challenging job
  4. Lose my virginity
  5. Get married
  6. Have my first child J keeps being worried, but really I'm just bloated
  7. Buy a house
  8. Travel the world Although that depends on what qualifies as "world", I have been around Europe quite a bit now
  9. Live abroad I lived in a handful of countries and can pretend I speak French. In fact, I'm still abroad, which brings us to...
  10. Settle down in my home town with above job, husband, house and baby
Obviously when I look at the list now, I realise the list, and especially no. 10, was a bit overambitious.

The challenging job; well, it could have happened if I hadn't clocked up a few dysfunctional boyfriends along the way. It's incredible how moving around to suit your partner hampers your career, especially when you're just starting out.

The kid and house, I just don't think I would have been ready.

Marriage, well, I have come to realise that I am mostly keen on the big party, not so much on the actual being married part. So maybe best to steer clear of that.

But the last point... It's strange, the more settled I get over here, the more I wish I was actually over there.

I think even getting to know people properly here, and having friends over a longer period of time, just reminds me of what I'm missing from home.

So for the next decade, I'll just focus on being able to move home. Which will only involve re-training in a different profession, talking a reluctant J into coming with me and just generally working really hard.

Here's to hoping!

And can I just say, I don't think 4 out of 10 is that bad, really.

Monday, 17 April 2006

Today's hot shower

It's been a very rollercoaster Easter weekend. J and I had our monthly(ish) "where is our relationship going"-chat, it being my turn to break down in tears this time.

Showers. Very underrated
But I really do think there's a point to them.

"I know you feel like you're banging your head against a brick wall sometimes," J said. "But ever so occasionally, the brick wall might budge. So it's not pointless."

And he also said, "I think we'd both be bored if there was never any drama." How true.

He woke up the next morning and wished me happy Easter, then apologised for not getting me anything. I hadn't realised you're meant to get your partner something for Easter, and at any rate I think the eggs here are way to chocolatey.

So we spent most of the day in bed watching Buffy, rounding off with a lovely roast leg of lamb in the evening.

So today we felt compelled to do some exercise; J's convinced he's getting fat.

We started a new and better life with a nice, long run along the Thames, and then we showered together in the lovely new shower (which has been installed in our house because the old one leaked down into the kitchen halogen lights; slight fire hazard anyone...).

The new shower is in a bath tub, with a nice tiled table-bit at the end of it for putting your shampoo and soaps on.

Or for putting me on. Despite having claimed about five minutes previously to be "completely knackered" from the jog, J suddenly realised that my wet and soapy body, with my nipples pointing at him (inadvertedly, of course, as they know full well that pointing is rude) as I was washing my hair, looked quite inviting.

He offered to "soap my back" which of course meant rubbing his soapy front on my still sweaty back, and enjoying the feeling of my slippery bum on his own (can I say also inceasingly pointing) dirty bits.

"Sit down over there," he said, and as I sat down at the edge of the tub, he kneeled down, pulled my legs apart and dove in, wrapping my calves over his shoulders.

The sensation of his hot tongue on me and the cold tiles on my back was fantastic. He was moaning so loudly I could hear it despite the gushing hot shower.

When I came, I closed my eyes, and the red light from the window completely disappeared; I actually think I was close to blacking out.

As soon as I could stand up again, at least on my knees, I put some conditioner in my hair and duly returned the favour, with J standing and clamping his hands over my ears, thrusting firmly into my throat.

It was lovely. I could hear him moan as he came, very vaguely, with the hissing dissiness of my own orgasm still ringing in my ears.

I stood up for a post-suckage kiss and saw bright spots dancing in front of my eyes.

Screw you, Thames water saving measures... J said afterwards that at least we'd saved water by showering together. I'm not sure that's enough to ease my environmentally bad conscience.

But it was worth every drop of it.

Moral of the story:

No, there isn't one. Was there meant to be? I'll work on it.

Blogger fatigue

I had a dream the other night. It was about the internet, but not me surfing it as such; the whole 'screen' of the dream was a computer window, if you know what I mean.

It could have been my blog. But no worries, it's not
On the dream internet, I was looking at WDKY's blog (worth a read for those of you who haven't), and it had a sticky at the top saying he was going to lay it to rest for now.

It was a little sad, actually.

And then I woke up and thought, maybe I should give my own blog a rest. I've got less time, it's summer outside, and I feel I have less to say than I used to.

I thought maybe I should post a sticky like the one in my dream, saying I've taken a break, or even to move my blogging to an undisclosed location to get a fresh start.

But now I'm thinking, maybe I shouldn't. Maybe I should just do some spring cleaning in here; redesign a little, and post only when I actually feel like I have something to say. Like today.

Because I think blogging is healthy for me. Sometimes I forget that I do it mainly for my own benefit, and start thinking I would like more people to read it, or for it to have more functions, or that there's no point unless I update daily.

However, that's not why I started this. I started it so I could have a record of my own feelings towards J, and towards life in general. Is there a clever mood-plotting gizmo for blogs available anywhere? There definitely should be.

Friday, 14 April 2006

No more pills!

This morning as I was leaving, J was still in bed, and as I approached the door, he pleaded for a few more kisses.
Of course I obliged, which obviously made it really difficult to leave (I came in to work about 20 min late as a result).

"Let's not argue," he said. "We've been arguing a lot lately and it's really hard for me."

I am surprised. Not because it's hard for him, because I know it is, but because I don't feel we've argued especially much lately.

Of course we bicker about things (he told me to fuck off yesterday over something which wasn't worth discussing in the first place), but for some reason this is just like water off a duck for me, I don't really notice that much.

I think I notice less because I've stopped taking my pills.

I've been on the progestone only pill for most of the time we've been together, but I stopped a few weeks ago as I felt they were making me depressed.

Maybe it's just a placebo effect, but I really feel less irritable, less tired and less emotionally flat. And a LOT hornier, bizarrely.

I just need to find a way to cheer J up as well.

Looking for somewhere to live is always stressful, and moving in with someone means you'll realise you disagree on more things than you thought was possible.

But at least if you argue with someone, it's because you care enough about them to be concerned about their opinion.

I'll tell him that, and top it up with the product of my increased sex drive.

If that doesn't help, I don't know what will.

With Irritating Flatmate gone, I don't see what could possibly keep us from having an excellent Easter.

Tuesday, 4 April 2006

House of flying daggers

Sometimes, flatmates have really annoying visitors and partners.

Such as the visitor took all the food my friend A had prepared and put in the freezer, and put it in a pile in front of his bedroom door, "because it looked disgusting".
Now Irish stew might not look to appetising in frozen form, but it does taste good.

Unless it's been left to defrost on the carpet over the weekend, that is.

Needless to say, this did not go down too well with A, who also had to contend with two suicide attempts and one sectioned flatmate in the same dwelling.

But J, on the other hand. He's now staying with me for a month. So OK, he stomps a little when he walks, but he does the dishes, doesn't leave the toilet seat up, doesn't (on the whole) eat other people's food and pays his way with rent and utility bills.

So you'd think my flatmates wouldn't mind him staying with me while we look for somewhere to live.

But no.

Annoying Flatmate (there is always one) has for some reason decided he's against J's presence.

For some reason, he hasn't made this clear although he's repeatedly been asked if he has a problem with it.

When I say "for some reason" I mean that he hasn't said anything because his own girlfriend has, over the past two months, stayed at our flat for 2x9 days plus another two long weekends (Thursday-Monday).

He has not on any of these occasions cleared it with the household.

This kind of situation drives me nuts. On one hand I can't be bothered having a great showdown with Annoying Flatmate (and believe me, there would be one if I mentioned anything).

But on the other hand I also feel really uncomfortable with his hostile remarks and notes left on the fridge (that old shared house dagger), all pointing out how crowded I've made it with one more person in the house.

So yesterday, when J was passing money to my flatmates by way of paying his share of the rent, Annoying Flatmate was more than happy to accept. You see, he only lives in a shared house because he's too fucking immature to take care of his finances properly. I suspect there are large credit card bills being paid off, which explains why he can't afford to live on his own despite earning a lot more than everyone else in the house.

Nice flatmate, however, thought it was ridiculous that J should pay. "You're not an extra burden on the household," NF said. And then, to AF: "Because YOUR GIRLFRIEND STAYS HERE ALL THE TIME. AND SHE NEVER PAYS ANYTHING."

J remarked later that it was as if I'd programmed him to say what I didn't want to say myself. Which, remarkably, I hadn't.

You could have heard a needle drop in the kitchen etc. etc. Icy silence. Then AF's frantic excuses, such as "she's never here for that long".

"But isn't she a student?" J offered as a peace accord. "She's probably not got very much money anyway."

AF: "No, she works full time, actually." Then realising he stabbed himself a bit there, he chose to disgracefully retreat to the living room to sulk.

Later on in the evening when J, NF and I were having a lovely dinner in our spacious kitchen (you see, the house is huge and can easily fit a large number of people), IF came back in and was all conciliatory, pretending earlier on never happened at all.

What am I going to do when I'm living with J alone? Do we have to make our own intrigues?

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