odds and ends

The bigger the pond that you work and play in, the more disturbing but magical coincidences become.

I don't believe in coincedence if defined to implicate a randomness. For me, just because I do not grasp a meaning doesn't mean there isn't one out there. i am not always that smart, or clued in!

On wednesday a woman in the hall meandered through my peripheral vision. I did not get an exact glimpse, but she reminded me of an ex-colleague, although one i did not know well. Later that evening i found out from a mutual friend that this ex-colleague's mother was dying of cancer.

I saw a man in my tube train, and again in the same day. He was down by the Thames, just walking and he passed me, having my lunch.

My friend Mel had been popping through my mind as well. I was wondering where in the world her choices had taken her, and what she was doing. Also, i was reading a book about being a chef at lunch, which reminded me of her recent ex-boyfriend (their dating took her over here for a few months late last year, which was great because we got to hang out) who was running a restaurant in Oxford. A few hours later, i received a call from a group of American guys just arrived in London for a few days, who were friends of Mel's. I am going to meet them tonight.

Strange days. Have you had a coincedence pop up recently?

Poor Me

Mercers says Moscow is the most expensive city. London is the fifth most expensive city.

Come On England. Whooo hoooo. Number 5!

I am not proud i live in a pound eating machine. I am proud that somehow i manage to spend all my monthly pay cheque so well. I see plays, dance, go to dinner, drinks, get taken out, use cabs here and there, have an Oyster, and buy clothes at Harvey Nics. and i don't make much.

Yet i always feel poor. And at least once a week, i hear the sucking sound of my money uselessly being slurped by this city because of some "unbeknowst to me" mistake. Or stupid things, like getting so lashed that i lost track of my new missoni scarf. i am such a dumb bitch sometimes.

Money has been on my mind lately. I think it is good, want more, and appreciate it. It needs respect and it needs you to maintain your respect. I suppose i am just frightfully bourgeousie about money. Which means i rarely talk about it and even now feel like i am entering Taboo Zone. I might as well start talking about Anal Sex whilst i am at it. Actually, maybe someone will pay me to talk about anal sex....j/k.

Portsmouth Boy does not have much of it. But he is sweet, smart and fun. He treats me well mentally, if he cannot, or does not spoil me materially. Short term it is working well. It is the long term that i am worried about. And maybe prematurely so. We have been seeing each other since May. He borders on cheap, and i have my ears open for more information on that point. I have high expectations on the giving front. It is how my family is. It is what i want in a relationship. You would think that the senior solicitor and the lambourghini driving IT salesguy would be my style then. but no, no attraction. It is not an attraction issue, it is a -will this work in the long term issue. I have seen heavy relationships and marriages get in divorce ish trouble over this. so it worries me. But not so much to where i am not wanting to see him or not enjoying my time.

What could happen is that life will bear pressure down on this issue, and things will happen to make it a discussible issue. We can't do things because of his budget, or he can't go on holiday so i do and then i don't see him. Or eventually i say, do you not give girls presents because i haven't gotten one yet...

well, my therapist did say that dating is a laboratory. it is about learning. so, here i am, learning. I wish i could learn more, faster. I am off to see Shakespeare in Regents Park with Tax Lawyer. I am sure it will be the last date. he is nice and has a good relationship cv. so, i am not attracted to him. or more importantly, any movie i mention from Constant Gardner to XMen 3 he has not heard of, thus we don't have enough in common.

Miss Go London to boycott Moet after public snubbing from French

By miss h
In a rare impetuous and brash move, miss go London held a press conference from her furnitureless chaotic flat in west London. The reporters competed with the boxes for space. Miss go London appeared calm and rational, from which we can infer she had taken her meds. This was in contrast to the earlier voicemail messages her contacts at Grazia and She and the Sun received, which was something like, "I can't believe those French fuckers at moet, how dare they, don’t they know my grandfather saved their asses in the war?! I have tasted small grower vintage champagne! I am calling a press conference now, get over here. I promise there will be tea and cakes!".
Decked out in an unfortunate paul smith and Vivienne westwood shouting match of an ensemble, an obvious slight to French fashion to those of us that know miss go london's taste, she began her volley. "It is a shame that the owners of Moet, LVMH, have a mission to create barriers to cross cultural and border understanding in a world that is at such a poor point in terms of overall peace and health. Rather than condemn it should support. Rather than criticise, it should set examples. Rather than attack, it should provide amnesty. The French are not known for their tact, but this is ridiculous. With great power comes great responsibility. As spider man's uncle said in the movie. The French, especially its companies with brands more powerful that anything the Russians own, should act As If [they have power]."

As almost everyone who is not anyone knows, yesterday Miss go London was at a fabulously posh restaurant in the City for lunch. She decorously ate and drank her way through the affair just barely spilling wine and roasted tomato chutney on the white table clothe surrounding her. To begin and end the epicurean event, the group imbibed bottles of Moet vintage champagne. Miss go London inwardly smiled proudly at herself and purchased a mental spa day; she had worn her vintage louis vuitton wedge sandals with goldish stud trim. It matched the champers in that st. tropez way. Damn I am good the American in her thought. After the cheese course, the group finished the champers. However, miss go London (and only she) overheard a comment from the men at the table next to her. They looked impeccably dressed in a can't be English sort of way. They were thin with thinning hair and thin rimmed glasses. They had wedding rings but sized up every female in the room, the answer being Yes. Clearly, they were French.

"Can you believe these English? How they glug this gorgeous champagne that your firm creates, as if it is a drug that should not be savoured, and only appreciated for its effects en masse. It is despicable. What do you think the percentage of these drinkers even understands NV from vintage, has tasted a small grower, or knows what a blanc et blanc is? Phht…ridiculous."

"I know what you mean Jacques, I completely agree. I wish I could distance my brand from the guzzling non-french community. You say English, but we know the Americans and Germans are just as crass. Look at this world cup nonsense. They should be banned from our champagne, and left to that swill they call beer. What can we do? I cannot forbid them from buying it. I am sure Australia or California would be delighted to have this business."

At the last minute conference, Miss go London tapped her vintage LV shoes. Flipped her hair. Which needs a trim. "By sheer fate, it has come to my attention that the managing director of the Moet division of LVMH views the sponsorship of the champers glugging culture as 'unwelcome attention. I view his comments as quasi-racist and will no longer support any of their products. I am selling my cases of Moet, even the blush. And these puppies…" she takes off her vintage sandals, looks at them longingly, and holds them up to the snap-snap of the digital cameras, "I am placing these on Ebay today. As far as I know, Christian Laboutin doesn't have a problem with me. Christian, please don't prove me wrong". The last bit was almost whispered.People can be divided into two types. Those that believe that everything changes, and those that believe that flux rules the world; it is inherent. While Miss go London would adamantly state that she is of the latter type, it is pure irony that shows us that Americans still take everything personally and think that all cultures play by their rulebook, and the French hate everyone indiscriminately and thus are unable to be racist.

We never take our own advice do we?

There has been a saga playing itself out in the background of my life.

A half a year from the last snog and about one year from the one and only formal date, the emotional golf game begins again. He was insterting himself into my life; I had noticed a higher frequency of communication, texting and calling, and allusions to hanging out. I had been contemplating this new NBF friendship thing. Is it something I wanted? Was it healthy for me? Should it be in my life or should I walk away. Besides thinking on these things, my strategy was to not encourage or initiate contact. Regardless, of my lack of initiation, he did enough for both of us. And there we were, talking almost everyweek. Then, one day, the proactive offer to help me move; which he flaked on but rescheduled. And he sacrificed a big football game day.

Looking back now, that evening seems surreal. He helped me around the house, and we had a fun time, laughing, with a hint of flirting. I was telling myself to close the box of feelings, just feel out this friendship, but i had the choice of choosing the friendship. The concept of "I can just be friends because i am a big person" is overrated. This is my life, my feelings and I can be selfish with them. If being a friend emits a low constant whine of hurt and frustration, then I need to do what I need to do to make it stop. However, had not decided, and we were having a nice time that evening.

How many times did he say he was enjoying the evening? He asked me lots of questions about me. Called me holls. Told me he wanted us to hang out more. He would fix my bike and we could train together. Said he would get a vespa helmet for me. Brought up we should go to the theatre above our local pub. Wanted to help more with DIY in the future. I remember thinking, there is a lot of him + me that is supposed to be happening in the future…what is going on! Then he isn't leaving. We finished eating the burgers I made us, and I stand up and tug on his arms to help him up, he is protesting that I am kicking him out. And then the kiss.

He started it. 2 long ones. And then the talk. I say what is that for, i don't understand. I am so proud of myself for saying to him that I am one confused girl, what is this? And making him explain. And he says we hve tried the friend thing. lets try hanging out and getting to know each other; he tells me that he has grown up. And the work thing doesn't bother him. He says we had so much fun on that one date, lets keep hanging out. He had already invited himself to a birthday drinks thing on Friday.

I felt very topsy turvey. As you do when a feeling that you repress gets told that its object is ready to explore and experience.

And now I feel deflated and numb. As you do when someone's actions completely belie their words over a period of 3 weeks after this "things have changed" conversation.

The conversation where I was told to fuck off, regarding the bikini thing at my Conversational Ability post? That was him on the Friday night birthday drinks. Opposite to the night described above, he was mean spirited, tense and stand-offish, prone to very sarcastic comments. That Wednesday, he started snogging me. On Friday, in response to his aloofness, I said, what is the deal, you had said we tried the platonic thing, but I am confused as to if you even want to get together and kiss. His response was to say, I don't think I would have a problem with that. Really, you think? And at times he would flip to being funny and charming. At one point i cried with laughter. and then flip. Personality disorder?

Since then? He texted me on that Sunday. I emailed during the week. He texted me several times whilst I was in the US, even signing with an X. I emailed him when I got in, he e/m back lets set something up ex-office. He says how about Sunday, should be home from my parents for dinner and movie maybe? I text him over weekend and say how is Sunday looking? He texts will call to confirm. He bails: texts me on sunday that he cant make it. And now,I have seen him a couple of times in the hall and we have waved. He came in once to my office after a meeting and chatted a bit; I was busy with work and slightly dismissive (with a smile).

So, it has been about a month later from his convo about doing things a different way. Where have all our "lets do stuff" plans gone? Last I heard, he broke off plans with me and I have not heard e/m or text or call since. A wave in the hall seems very meagre. I mentioned golf earlier because I feel that he likes to know there is opportunity and options for him emotionally. I would venture a guess that his ego drives, no pun intended, him to see if he is liked. So he sets up on this emotional green, tees off, and then runs away. And eventually he will make his way on the putting green. But another year later?

I have decided to break up our friendship. I was interested in a healthy lets hang out relationship. More than interested, i was excited and it made me happy. But I am not interested, because it is not healthy for me, in a back and forth here I am oh just kidding thing. Next time he decides to tip toe forward, I am calling him out. What happened to what you were saying? What is going on in your head? Are you happy back to the coffee here and there, witty email banter here and there? And then say I am not interested, officially breaking off the friendship. You are a great guy, but this dynamic wastes my time. Let's put distance between us, and take care. Which is just me telling him the truth. I now have to decide to let him creep back to me and wait for next he suggest a casual catch up; or pester him for a coffee/out of office catch up. Much different than the movie he played for me when he was over at my place, e.g. wanting to come over to dinner more often.

On the theme of letting go and opening up, i have added a FlickR link in my site links sidebar.

Take 459, First Date with Almost Stranger….Aaaction!

I had a cinematic moment yesterday. I was at Richmond station, waiting for my date to pick me up. I am along side the rest of the tired gits, miserable after a long day at work. The sun is shining and setting, gently saying goodbye to a gorgeous London summer day. The light is soft and this far away from town the air has a pretend to be clean quality. Yet not a single person smiling in that queue. They look tired, miserable, and without much money in a city that tithes you daily emotionally and fiscally. And then me, dressed up in a black silk skirt and tight tee ensemble, my fav French sling-back heels and a cropped jacket. Standing slightly away from the bus queue. I get a call from my date, telling me he is around the corner; I say I am at the station by the bus, he says he will drive around to get me. A few minutes go by, I pose/compose myself, laughing at myself as well. Here we go again miss gl. And Vruum goes a very big engine, and towards me prowls a black Lamborghini. I wave, he waves, he pops open the door and I jump in. We drive off up the hill. Cut! Well, that was fun.

Actually, I had a nice time on the date. Because this was a random guy from a clubbing night, I had minimal expectation. What is a "nice time on a date"? It isn't falling in love, but it is decent conversation, from a man with better than average intelligence and manners. It turns out that we have much in common. Oldest children, we are independent, strong minded, are not afraid of change, and like to live healthily (ie working out and eating regimen). (Of course my huge exception to that is my drinking, ehh, ehm). For example, he said he likes to eat spinach, broccoli and blueberries every week. My jaw almost dropped because my persona Food Nazi ensures that I do the same thing. Those exact same items. He has a road bike, I have a road bike. Interestingly, he was very upfront about having been noncommittal with women in the past, doesn't like to be pushed into a relationship, has never been engaged or live with a woman, and won't pretend to like someone if he doesn't feel chemically attracted to someone. He placed an emphasis on the physical attraction. Code for i am a sex fiend? red flag. Really, the substance of his words was the usual I am just being honest upfront to minimise any hurt I could potentially cause you because I am so up myself bull shit that most post 30 year old men do. Did he see me yawn? I gave him the oh that is so good you are being honest, pat your ego on its back, blob-schpiel. And then of course he told me the I am really careful and take a while to trust someone but get bored easily blob-schpiel. I usually respond with a comment about how American style dating is very helpful because its rules give you the flexibility to get to know someone before you say I will have you as my main with a side of commitment and monogamy.

At this point, I really want to hand over to him/them a script with all the dialogue written on it. It’s the mid thirties guy defending that his continued single status (he has no baggage baby), implying its not his fault all the women are psycho needy, and then setting himself up as the Challenge Guy (I just haven't found that special amazing one who will keep my interest because she too is just as amazing as me). Including my nodding-head smiling seductively crossing legs flipping hair routine that invariably gets a "you are really sexy do you know that" comment.

Sometimes I feel like I am a doll and there is a person behind me pushing buttons. Laugh now. Toss hair now. Ask question. Insert phrase about myself. Stroke ego. Give compliment. Laugh again. Go to ladies room and walk slowly swinging hips. Dating PhD.

As I mentioned in my last post, someone not only has to have a sense of humour to possibly understand me, and importantly put up with me, but can I please order a deviation from the script? In summary, I see through my date, I don't need a Challenge Guy to fall for me in order to feel good about myself, and I am not going to get hurt because I would call out any of his wankerdoms and walk away if he doesn't apologise. But, it may be interesting, mean some intriguing nights out, so I will play aloof and keep things slow ensuring a few dates with him this summer. And maybe some action if the mood strikes me; and he is really nice to me.Have I deprogrammed love out of my life? Or is its appearance beyond my control.

monday's post

I don't like when I go an extended time without posting because for now writing is my creative outlet and i need it. I have had visual arts and culinary arts at other times; but for now it is writing.

I have a rolling document on the computer where i draft out possible posts; and just diarise my feelings and not all of it makes it on to here.

My holiday was good. lots of sun and fresh clean air; time with horses; viewings of deer, foxes, turkeys; loads of slobbery dog kisses. My parents seem in good spirits and health and their business is thriving.

Flying back here i had a large amount of emotional jet lag. When i mused over it, i realised that it was because now my universe and my parents are so different, that jumping in between is wrenching. And because my parents never had my experiences, and notwithstanding their visit here, they don't understand, and will not. It becomes conflicting when i won't ask them to understand, but they say they try but can't. I think that it would take too much energy for them, when they have other places to put that energy. They are very entrenched in their life to the extent that cannot empathise with one that is so different. our values at this point in our lives is too different. Both of us need to accept each other's chosen place. I think we are working on that. They did not try to persuade me to come home. They did ask if I planned to stay here, to which i replied yes, i am very happy here, and i am still getting so much out of it. i don't resent their chosen country life. But i am the planet that revolves around them and looks for ways to explore other parts of the universe. And their protective love feels insecure about this and they react by trying to use gravity to pull me back.

My work is getting busier, but i still plan to look for another job. Yet plan needs to turn into an active verb; planning doesn't pay you. I need to make more money if i want to buy a flat. Well, i need to stop spending money on clothes too, but i have not made much progress. How do you spell Neiman Marcus and Banana Republic? c-h-e-a-p. until you add it up...As my ex boss used to say, and i will quote him regardless of him being a prick, i will always out spend what i make, whatever i make.

My dating life is like a bag of mixed fruit and nuts. All of it good, some salty, some sweet, and varying textures. Whizzing around my head is the whole spectrum of opportunities, from blind date to the guy that hasn't ever quite exited the scene. Meanwhile, miss go london can't say she is in love, and doesn't have a boyfriend. So while the noise is louder, the sum total is the same.

Speaking of being the same, it has always been that try as hard as i can to be sophisticated and urbane, serene and confident, i always metaphorically trip and fall down the stairs. At least once a week. And if i am drunk, it isn't a metaphor. This weekend i threw myself off the eliptical machine and screamed to the consternation and judgement of the gym because a fly attacked my head. And then on a date, walking into a cafe, i asked a woman if we could sit outside. and she told me she didn't work there. Whoops. Note to self, look for the black server's apron. sigh. Whoever takes me on at some point is required to have a sense of humour.