Showing posts with label Bunny Boiler. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Bunny Boiler. Show all posts

Wednesday, 20 March 2013

The Possible End Of An Era...

So, although I’m not going to put money on anything as I’d hate to jinx it, I believe I am coming to the end of my single and dating days.

I know, that means that you guys aren’t going to hear many more hilarious fuck ups from my “wild adventures” (Ha! Yeah right...) or about any more crazy guys... In some ways, this is a sad thing because I’ll have to actually put effort into thinking of what to write, in another way, I am blissfully in lust (and maybe more - in time) with the Sexy Guitarist, and therefore I am not complaining. Definitely not complaining.

No one told me about guitarists, so it has been a complete shock to me. If you don’t know, I would advise asking your friends (NOT family or co-workers!) in case you ever need to know.

At the moment we’re in those clumsy, shy beginnings, where everything is perfect and sweet and romantic, but one wrong move could spell DOOM. For example – if I were to do something slightly too nutty, like inform him of exactly how much I LOVE cats. I’m trying to bring that one in gently. So far, it seems to be going well, but I REALLY had to restrain myself last night when a cat entered the room we were in at one of his band mate’s houses. Most of you are aware, I believe, of how psychotic I get about cats. I am incapable of just passing one in the street. I want to own about fifty of the furry bastards, and a shot gun, rocking chair, porch and some whiskey. See, to my friends this anti social cattitude has become something of the norm. They’re used to the glazed eyes I get when talking about cats, see it as “just ellie” and move on. But this has serious scaring off potential partner risk. Especially if they are dog people. Luckily for me, I did a bit of digging and discovered that he is not adverse to beings of the feline persuasion. Thank god! Hurdle number one cleared.

Next, of course, is the worrying about whether you’re coming over as a bunny boiler. We all know that I’m quite chilled out in relationships as to what my partner gets up to in his spare time. I’m not a jealous kind of girl, and I don’t feel the need to know where they are and who they’re with every minute of the day, as long as I know when abouts they’re going to be home so that I know whether or not to start ringing the hospitals’ A and E depts. BUT... due to the fact that I worry that I may come across as being a bunny boiler, I over-compensate – I go right through disinterested and out the other side again, back into bunny boiler potential. So, a question such as “Oh, you’re going to see her? That’s cool, have fun!” becomes, “Oh, you’re going to see her? When? Not that I mind or anything. I do CARE of course, because you’re involved, but I don’t think you’re about to sleep around. Honest.” And the poor guy I’m talking to is left with the distinct impression that I was implying that I did not approve of him visiting his sister.

Of course, guys have just as many problems. Where us girls are just trying to act like sane people, guys have to act like they are good with emotions and stuff. Which, let’s face it guys, you’re really not. Unless you’re gay or have Mummy issues. Not to generalise or anything, but that is usually the way it works. So you poor things have to go around being “romantic” and not mentioning sport or farting in front of this girl you’re interested in for at LEAST a week. Believe me, I feel for you, I really do. And of course, you may manage to keep this up for a good long while, until you take her to meet your mates and you get sabotaged – “Did you know that Will can squirt his drink out of his nose so accurately it’ll hit the bloke behind the bar in the eye?” - yells one of your mates before you manage to garrotte the bugger. And then it’s week’s worth of effort down the drain.

And finally, the BIG issue, the “am I moving too fast for the other person” worry. When is it right to hold hands? When is it right to greet someone with a kiss? Or take the piss out of them without causing offense? And finally, of course, the “L-Word”. Generally, I take my lead from the other person when it comes to the pace of the relationship. But this will only work as long as the other person is not taking their lead from me, or we’ll both be stuck in this perpetual motion machine and will never get anywhere. Naturally, this does not count with the L-Word as it is such a big deal to me. I’ll say it when I am ready. Whether that be after two dates or twenty – I don’t care. I’d far rather be honest than piss about with someone’s feelings. And I expect the same from the other side. Maybe I’ll be ready to say it before them, maybe they’ll be ready to say it before me. It doesn’t really matter. Either way, both parties should be headed in the same direction, just at their own individual pace.

I think that one of the things that we all forget when we’re in this fresh, shiny and new stage of potential coupling, is that the other person is just as worried about doing or saying the wrong thing and ruining it as we are. The fact is that if there wasn’t a connection then you wouldn’t have got together in the first place. We should all just stop worrying and get on with it. Unless the other person turns out to be a secret, alcoholic, mass murderer with a penchant for eating worms, in which case – RUN!

Before I go, if there are any sexy guitarists out there reading this – I totally exaggerated about the cats thing. Honest. ;)

Now let's just hope that this blog post hasn't messed it all up... LMAO!

Wednesday, 13 February 2013

Never Date A Chin Snogger

O

So we moved on the the Orang
K, so I’ve had a few requests to write about date number one, otherwise known as Crazy Lloyd.

I had written a post about him in draft, ready to get checked over and uploaded, but for the life of me, I can’t find it anywhere. Yes it is very annoying. But just for you guys, I’ll write it again. :

So, as you know, on Halloween, I went out with the lovely Prue to a house party, where I consequently got a little sloshed and pulled a guy who was relatively yummy and could bounce pennies off his abs. YUM. But I was not in any way prepared for what was to come…

The Friday of the week I moved into my flat was the big date night. I had no idea where we were going as CL (or Crazy Lloyd) wanted to keep it as a surprise - and I LOVE surprises. So he came round to mine and naturally, I was not ready to leave. One of the big rules of dating that. A girl is NEVER ready when her date picks her up. I’m not sure why. probably to test his patience or something in theory, in practice, it’s because we’re panicking and managed to put our dress on upside down the first 5 attempts. Legs through arm holes is never a good look.

Anyhoo, when I’d finally worked out which way is up and had dressed we sat on the sofa for a while, being good boys and girls (noooot!) until it was time to leave for the date.

When we had met at the party there had been a whooole lot of the ol’ snogging. at the time, I had thought, “well, maybe it’s because he’s drunk?”. Yup, the guy was TERRIBLE at snogging. when one snogs another person, one should ONLY snog the mouth of that person. CHIN snogging should NEVER, EVER occur. No matter HOW well you know that person. It just ain’t right. and it wasn’t like he was focusing on my chin, it was just that his mouth covered all of mine AND my chin. And he had an annoying habit of saying “Wow” or “Amazing” after every snog. But, as I said, I put this down to drunkenness Unfortunately, during the sess on the sofa, he proved that alcohol has absolutely no effect on his technique, or his vocabulary.

It turns out that CL had made a reservation at Carluccio’s. I LOVE Carluccio’s. As in, ermagerd *drools* kind of love.

He DID, however, let himself down a bit when he brought out a discount voucher printed off the internet for a free bottle of wine. It was a bit… well, cheap. Believe me, I’m all for getting a bargain, it’s just a bit different when you’re on a first date, isn’t it? I don’t want to feel like a discount whore.

BUT, I let it go, and really enjoyed the meal. CL asked a lot about me, my family, my work, my likes/dislikes etc etc, but whenever I asked him anything he deflected the question, so I didn’t really learn anything about him, except that he had a sister and he lived with his mum. Never a good sign, but again, I disregarded it.

At this point you guys are probably all thinking, “Why the hell is she even bothering with the rest of the date?!?” Because I am stupidly willing to give people second chances - that’s why.

Anyway, the food was great, and although the conversation was mainly about me (a subject which I already know a lot about) at least it was free flowing and not just awkward silences. And he WAS good eye candy.We went to the Orange Tree after food for a few drinks. Things loosened up a bit here, and I started to relax and enjoy myself a bit more. Unfortunately this meant a lot more chin snogging, but hey-ho.

So, At the end of the night he paid for my taxi home, without trying to come with me (gentleman points earned!) and I felt really good about the date afterwards.

For the next weekend I got texts and calls from him, and things seemed to be going rather well. I didn’t think he’d be a long term thing, as he seemed a tad clingy, but as a “get under someone to get over someone” type thing he would do very nicely. In a non-slutty way, of course.

But we’d arranged to have a movie night at mine the following Monday, and I was planning food and a movie selection with Gusto.

Until the day after the Birthday Party…

I woke up extremely drunk. I recalled throwing up on a bus stop. (really sorry about that City Council). I also recalled my brother and my friend going around the club with a sandcastle bucket, filling it with various abandoned drinks and all three of us drinking from it. It had been a very, very rough night.

On the plus side, this was the day that the ex and I were cleaning the old house, and at least I was drunk.

So I spent that day with my brother, dancing and singing at the top of my lungs, and trying VERY hard to not fall over. Especially in front of the ex.

I got numerous texts from CL, but as we had to finish tidying by the end of the day I didn’t have time to reply, and by the end of the day I just couldn’t be bothered.

But I did get a phonecall from him when I got back home, and had a brief chat before Kirsty arrived to chat about the night before. So we said our goodbyes and hung up, and Kirsty and I dissected the previous evening.

When Kirsty left I realised my phone had died during Kirsty’s visit, so I spent a long time hunting for my charger, eventually giving up when I realised it had to be in one of the boxes I hadn’t unpacked yet. So I placed a quick note on facebook, tagging CL, explaining the situation and promising to charge the phone at work the next day.

When I got to work I plugged the phone in, and within about 3 hours it had turned on. Blackberrys are NOT meant to be turned off. It’s very frustrating.

Eventually it turned on. I regretted this. A lot. I still regret it. It was a traumatic experience. I was FLOODED with missed calls, texts, and everything else he could throw at me.

He was asking what he’d done wrong, why I was ignoring him, telling me that I obviously wasn’t interested in him and even accusing me of sleeping with the ex. Well, if I had any interest in him before hand, I DEFINITELY didn’t any more…

There was an obvious turning point where he saw the Facebook message I left him. He suddenly starts to take it all back, apologising and asking if we can “start over”.

Anyway, before I got the chance to start a reply to any of the messages, he started to call me. While I was at work. Who the hell does that?! He knew I work 9-5:30 every day. Did he SERIOUSLY think this was bad enough to stop work and sort it out? We’d been on ONE DATE!! what is it with these men who think that one date means a serious and long term committed relationship? For me, one date means that I think there is a possibility, but I’m not placing any bets in case you’re an axe wielding psycho.

So the phone was immediately slammed into silence. By now it’s starting to wonder what the hell it could possibly have done to offend me so.

Over lunchtime I ended up contacting CL to inform him that he was indeed still welcome at mine that evening as we had to have “a Talk”. Now, we ALL know about “The Talk”. It’s what you get when someone brave dumps you. But when they say “a Talk” it is basically giving you the option to back out and run away from the impending doom…

Now, this is the part where all my plans went wrong. epically, and tragically wrong.

I got home after work, let myself into the flat, sorted things out from work, and started to prepare myself for CL’s arrival. That’s when I went outside, absent mindedly closing the door behind me until I heard the “click” of the lock.

And that’s when I locked myself in my alleyway.

I promptly realised that my keys were INSIDE and I was locked in the corridor. You have no idea how much I laughed. I was in tears – absolutely wetting myself with hysterics. Eventually, I managed to get through next door’s back gate and knock on their back door. They nearly had a heart attack. I was like some crazy person standing at their back door, crying with laughter and asking them if they could let me out of the front gate. Of course, this image of myself did nothing to stop the laughter. Nor did the expressions on their faces… At this point, Kirsty has been alerted to the fact that I am locked out and as she was coming over to prep me for ridding myself of CL, she popped round anyway. Luckily for me, she was able to assure the neighbours that I REALLY DO live there and I wasn’t a crazy burglar/bunny boiler type that was considering killing them all in their beds that night.

I ended up ringing a lock smith, who was going to charge me £70 for ONE LOCK! It wasn’t even late, must have been about 6:45 at this point. What a bloody rip off!!! As I couldn’t afford that I ended up ringing Alex, my landlady, but her husband Ty was out at a parent’s evening and she was looking after Saffron so couldn’t come and rescue me, but she said that she would send Ty over with the keys as soon as he was back. So Kirsty invited me over to hers to wait it out.

Naturally I’d been keeping CL updated as all this went on, but it sounded SO fake that he must have thought I was trying to cancel on him. He ended up texting when I was at Kirsty’s saying he’d just got off the bus to Leicester but he wanted to know whether the “Talk” was bad news as he didn’t want to come all the way to mine if he was just going to get dumped, which was why I’d sent him the warning text in the first place. I REALLY hadn’t wanted to do it over text or phone, so I said, “erm, kinda?”.

KINDA?!? Who WRITES that when they’re trying to dump a crazy person?!?

Anyway, he started ringing me, and we had tears down the phone and all sorts. Well, I didn’t have tears, but he was practically wailing. Then he hung up on me after spending a REALLY long time trying to change my mind, and saying that he knew I wasn’t interested after Saturday night, apparently I’d been really off with him on Sunday (I hadn’t – I’d been busy, as you know) and also trying to guilt trip me and etc etc, blah blah. And he wouldn’t listen to me when I kept saying, you just came on too strong, I don’t think I’m ready for this level of commitment, etc etc. He blamed my ex for sleeping with me at the party and also someone else that I’d met that night, apparently.

Then he text me for ages, apologising for hanging up on me, saying that I’d broken his heart (IT WAS ONNNEE DATE!! ONE!!! I nearly changed his name to the one date wonder) why did this always happen to him, why did no one love him, I had never cared about him (ONE DATE!!!) etc etc. He also kept asking me not to text him again, so I didn’t… unfortunately that didn’t stop him from texting me. Constantly. For the rest of the week. And calling while I was at work, and all sorts of crazy stuff. ERGH.

I kept coming home from work and expecting to find him on my doorstep, or that he’d broken into my flat and was lying naked on the bed with a rose between his teeth or something. *shudder* Or, the most terrifying scenario - finding my Gerbils in a pot of boiling water on the stove.

Eventually, Crazy Lloyd disappeared into the mists of crazy.

Thank God for that.