I know, I'm terrible

It has been over a month since my last post, and for that, I apologise. 

Unsurprisingly, however, nothing significant has happened to me recently, my plan (outlined in my previous post) has gone surprisingly well, and I haven't seen J since before Easter! Go me. As for romance, there has not been a lot apart from a hideously awkward attempt by a friend of a friend to woo me in the smoking area of a nightclub. That particular endeavour was embarrassing for the both of us and pretty much bordered on molestation, still, onwards and upwards, right?

I've met a guy called E. He lives near my hometown and we've been texting since Easter and I think we're going to meet in the summer. He's told me that he likes me, but given that I don't know him all that well, I am reluctant to say the same.

Study wise, I hate it. History is not the subject I had hoped it would be. It is fickle and annoying and often infuriating. So, I am hoping to change course, an begin studying English Literature and Journalism this September. I have made some preliminary investigations into this, and hope to have my course changed by the time move home for summer! 

I've become slightly obsessed with Shameless (the US version). I am simultaneously in love with Emmy Rossum and Jeremy Allen White, although Cameron Monaghan's abs make my eyes water a little bit. 

And if you're ever in need of something to listen to, I heartily recommend 'Little Monster' by Royal Blood. 

Until next time,

MMW - xo

reality checks for delusional sociopaths.

This week I had an awful feeling that my romantic life was spinning out of my control, and that simply won’t do. Unfortunately this has led to a few smatterings of self-hatred, but I’m working them out on my own.

The main guy in my life at the moment is J; I’ve written about him previously. It is my mission currently to cut him out of my life because I think that that’s the best thing for me to do right now.

The saddest thing about my current state of affairs is that I am wholly unable to take my own advice. If I were a third party looking in on this situation, I’d think I was a complete fool, and my advice would be to get as far away from J as possible. As of now, that is what I’m trying to do.

J and I met on Tinder – an app for which I have nothing but contempt now - despite being friends on facebook beforehand. The sad and tawdry events that passed between us have been outlined in my other posts, so I won’t embarrass myself by rehashing them all over again. Since we met up last, J and I have hardly spoken. Aside from a few boring snapchats, there has been no contact, yet still I yearn for him to talk to me – to send me a snapchat, regardless of how boring it is, just because I want his attention, because I like it. I am under no impression that he cares for me, or truly likes me, but there is still a tiny, idiotic corner of my brain that wonders what it would be like if we were together – would it be fun? Would I meet his flatmates or his parents? Could he fall in love with me? The answers to all of these futile questions is no; a hearty, resounding no because he sees me as nothing more than a human fleshlight useful for nothing more than an hour’s entertainment, if that. When he wants me, not a day goes by where I don’t get a message asking if I’m busy, or a dickpic illustrating in no uncertain terms what J is offering. In the immediate aftermath of our meetings, or when there is no immediate opportunity for the two of us to meet, he doesn’t message or snapchat me at all (unless he wants nudes from me to whack off to) which only serves to reinforce the feeling that he just doesn’t care. 

So, I devised a plan. A plan which is completely necessary because otherwise I will continue to act without control. I need to help myself. I wrote out 'rules' which detail how I am not allowed to send or reply to any communication from him, I can't look at his facebook, his instagram or his 'mystory' on snapchat. That's pretty much the long and short of our relationship really and so that's the entirety of my rules. I presume it will be difficult not to indulge myself by replying so this provides me with a challenge over the Easter break, and all being well, I won't care about him when I return to Uni. Fingers crossed.

He has no idea about it. I can't be bothered explaining my feelings to him because I honestly don't think he'd care one little bit, so I'll save my breath. To be frank, he probably won't care. I want him to, I really do but I know he won't - he might pursue me for a while but he'll tire and move onto something/someone else and we can continue our lives as normal. And we'll all live happily ever after. The End.

The reason I'm doing this is because I feel I have to. I've fallen too far into this self-indulgent chasm and I need to pull myself from it because when it all comes falling down around me, I'll be the only one getting hurt. And as much as I've told myself not to do X, Y, and Z, I've not listened, and I've carried on regardless. That's why I've written out my rules and my intentions, so that it is both tangible and visible and so that I'll stick to it. It's going to be hard but I want to overcome, truly I do. I'll let you know if it works.

obviously I want J to realise he's head over heels in love with me and fight tooth and nail for my heart. This is why I'm a delusional sociopath because I know this won't ever happen in a million years.

a girl thing?

An apology has to be made.

Last Saturday night, I did something I'm not entirely proud of. I met up with J again. 

We had been snapchatting (mostly dick pics) and messaging, he was always horny and wanted to meet up with me (in the dead of night when there's no one around), and I was flattered I guess: someone wanted me, only as a human flesh light, but still. I fobbed him off as I wanted to, claiming I had too much work to even think about meeting him, I even sent him a long message explaining why I couldn't see him...

"Hey :) I'm not sure that meeting up is a good idea at the moment. Even though I like you, I still feel like I don't know you, so I feel a bit weird fucking you (I know it makes no sense). I'm not really looking for a casual thing either atm, I'd rather go without than have to deal with any awkwardness that might occur. So, I'm sorry, I thought I could do this but after thinking about it I've realised that I can't right now, I'm sure we'll see each other out at some point, and if we do then maybe we could hook up, but until then I'm not sure this whole thing is a good idea."

Cue lots of begging from him, and the deed is done. 

But then I had to ruin it all by getting drunk. 

I messaged him asking if he was going out, he said he wasn't because all of his friends had gone home. He was in his flat by himself, he told me I could come over, I told him I'd message him later and he was excited. 

Then, on the walk down to the club, I realised that I couldn't be arsed going, I hadn't the money to spend, and I had a better offer. I made my apologies and went to his.

He let me into the building and led me to the lift, once inside we were kissing, his hands were everywhere, on my arse, my tits, hanging onto my waist. We got to his flat and he took me to his room, complimented him on his iMac, I'd always liked them, then we were kissing again, I liked the kissing - he asked what I wanted to do and, like a good girl, I dropped to my knees and sucked him off. Delirious with gratitude, he led me to the bed where we kissed some more while his hand invaded my underwear. He managed to finger me this time, I was quite wet, but I still didn't come. He tried making use of my clitoris but I'm not quite sure he knew where it was. He asked to finger my arse, I said no. He asked to fuck me, and again, I said no. I put my dress on, he gave me a hug (completely infuriating - he had his fingers inside of me 2 minutes ago?) and I left.

Now there is silence. Not a comfortable silence, an ominous silence where I wonder if I've done something wrong. There are no snapchats and no messages. Last week there wasn't a day we didn't message or snapchat one another and now there hasn't been one where we have! It's ridiculous.

Also, I saw him out at B on Monday and he blanked me, admittedly I blanked him aswell but he could have come over and said hi. 

The thing is, I don't like him. I think it's fun and cute and sexy when we're together, and I like getting his messages, but I can't say I want to be with him, or a want a steady fwb situation with him. I don't know what I want.

an avalanche of d.

STOP THE PRESSES... I think I might be desirable.

At various points in the last decade, I have had various crushes on various people. Guys I sat next to in Maths, the guy who showed me to the changing room in Jack Wills, even friend's brothers. I would see them, get to know them, begin to like them and then do precisely nothing about it (fear of rejection, obviously). Because of this, I managed to form the idea that guys just don't like me. I think I'm pretty, I'm definitely capable of making myself so, and I have a good sense of humour and a great personality, yet there was not one guy who liked me enough to think twice about me (I presume). 

I carried this belief through with me to Uni - where faithful, loving relationships are like gold dust, and expected nothing.

That's not what I got though.
J is back on the scene trying his hardest, yet again, to get into my pants. He succeeded. Last Saturday, after a heavy pre-drinking session, we set off to B. On the way down, however, I changed my mind - why spend money I need to save just to dance around a darkened village hall amongst people I probably don't like? I messaged J telling him I was coming over and he ran down to open the door for me. It played along familiarly; making out and over-zealous tit grabs in the lift, a blow job and an unsuccessful attempt to come on my part. The light was on though, so progress! I've now been plunged into silence again - he's doubtlessly had his fill of me for the time being, so it's all quiet on the western front.

FH has a friend in second year who lets us go round to his house and smoke weed in his living room, I'll call him X. Before we were properly introduced, X and I, he tried to dance with me in the club and I had to reject him because I was sober and in a bad temper. Regardless of this, he seems to like me - FH, LJ and JJ have commented on it; the way he always asks if I'm going over to the house, the way he looks at me and talks to me. It is what it is. X is cute, and if he finds the balls to talk to me, who knows what will happen.

Then there's VB, the guy with whom I went for a drink ages ago. I had to send him a 'Dear John' unfortunately, except it wasn't a heartfelt letter sent to a war zone, it was a long-ish text from my phone to his explaining how much work I had and that boys weren't a priority (utter bullshit, I think they always have been). He accepted it and I've not seen him since, although the City is a small one so I probably will soon.

R is making himself known again and we've reached a new plateau in our relationship (omg yay) - we exchanged snapchat usernames - wonderful! More benign chat but this time on a different social media platform! I don't hold out much hope.

There is someone worth mentioning, although I don't know yet what I think of him. I'll refer to him as the Cypriot. He's a friend of X's and FH's who gets high with us sometimes. He's foreign and exotic but completely lovely. He has a cute accent and a lovely, dopey smile. The way he runs his hands through his hair is hot as well.

and that's really it, as well as bland attempts at being chatted up in the club (which don't really bear mentioning) that is an appraisal of my love life at the present moment. Some of you might read all of this and think "well, there isn't exactly a mile-long queue for this girl" - at which point I would be inclined to agree, however, it is a queue, and the only one I've been at the front of. Ever.

the hook

As of this moment, I have two guys "on the hook".

The term "on the hook" is a crass, modern way of describing people who are under the impression that you will have sex with them at some point. The gentlemen I speak of (J and R) have been written about in brief encounter, and I suppose I like them both to an extent, just not a very great one.

R wanted pictures of me in various states of undress, with particular areas of my person on shameless display for his viewing pleasure. When he asked - nay, demanded - that I send him these pictures, I cut off communications, disgusted with his ridiculous display. After about a three week period, he was back for more. He apologised for his behaviour and asked if we could pick up where we left off? NO! I replied, my fervour so palpable you could almost taste it. He didn't give up but it set him on the back foot, reluctant and shy. The first thing he said to me was; "sorry for the way I acted, it was a bit of a dick move haha" - the Academy Award for Greatest Understatement can go straight to this clown.

J has not spoken to me for a couple of weeks (since we met up, once more, see brief encounter) but all of a sudden I was receiving snapchats in which his johnson was very pleased to see me. I shudder when I think of it. Then I was in receipt of a 5am facebook message asking what I was up to. When I actually read the message at 10am, I told him I was sleeping, naturally. He let me know that he was horny and wanted me. 

So, while these two boys are comfortable in the presumed knowledge that they will get their dicks sucked by me at some point, I find it laughable that they think it's that easy. That I'm that easy. That is why I'm keeping them on the hook, because I'm a horrible piece of shit, obviously, but because they should realise that doing this whole thing is not cool - and that to try it with me is the worst decision they could have made.

I pride myself on the fact that I am socially observant, and can tell when someone's taking me for a fool. I can tell whether or not you're a cunt within five minutes of meeting you - if you're a wingman - don't even bother because I will make sure you never wingman for anyone ever again. That's why I could spot R and J's game from a mile off. They aren't campus heartthrobs beating the women away with a shitty stick - they're losers who want to think that they bear any kind of resemblance to the aforementioned heartthrobs. They have no interest in me as a person, they don't want to know what my favourite song is, or have coffee with me; they want to sneak in and out of my flat at ungodly hours, imagining themselves to be big-dicked men capable of fucking women at a moment's notice. They aren't, and they never fucking will be.

what is my life.

For a good portion of my life, probably the last eight or nine years or so, I have been waiting for my romantic life to start, and predictably, it started at university.

I had my first club-neck (when you kiss a perfect stranger in a nightclub) at university, it wasn't pleasant but it happened.
I had my first sexual encounter at university - as before, it wasn't pleasant, but it happened.

Last night, I had my first 'date'. 

I'd better start from the beginning, last Wednesday.
I was hideously drunk, but when Q are selling seventy-five pence bombs and one pound vodka mixers, you can't blame me. I'd also shared a joint with FH on the way down to the nightclub so that was probably taking effect somehow. I was having THEBESTTIMEEVEROMG, my friends and I were doing as we always did, splitting time between the dancefloors and the smoking room. On a voyage from the dancefloor to the smoking room, I caught the eye of a guy, taller than me (just) with reaaaaaaaaally light hair (he might be albino but I've not asked). He followed us up to the smokers and asked me to stay with him as he'd lost his friends. If I was sober, I would have fucked him right off - needy much? But because I was intoxicated, I acquiesced, standing with him in the chilly outdoor smoking room . We talked for ages (it was probably like five minutes, but it felt like forever) and he asked for my number, telling me that he'd like to take me on a date. I gave it willingly and said goodbye, he asked for a hug and a kiss and I hugged and kissed him - both of which were relatively chaste (compared to the ravenous examples of kissing you usually see in nightclubs) and left.

Then he text me, the next day. We agreed to meet for a drink, and we did, last night.

I wasn't beside myself with anticipation, I wasn't so excited I couldn't sleep, I didn't plan my outfit or do anything special with my hair, I just met up with him, like I'd meet up with a friend. And it literally was like drinking with a friend. We talked and laughed, he walked me home and gave me hug (no kiss, thank God - I didn't want one). It was... meh. I have no feelings for or against him, I don't really care if I see him again.

It's infuriating because I've wanted this to happen for as long as I can remember - to be taken out by a nice boy, or to be kissed or to have sex, and when it actually happens it is just so bland and boring that it makes me angry. Argh.

dancing shoes

I drink far more than I ought to. I enjoy nightclubs far more than I ought to.

There's nothing particularly pleasant about binge drinking, just as there's nothing particularly pleasant about a nightclub - yet my friends and I live for the nights where we can render ourselves so offensively drunk that we can't remember our own names; or what our parents look like. An ideal week for me would be one where I go out on Monday, Wednesday, Friday and Saturday - it's been done before, when I've had an unusual disregard for lectures, or when my student loan has just come in, and these weeks are literally the best.

One of the perils of a night out in my university city are locals. They're Welsh and don't like the fact that the majority of students can't speak the language. There are pubs in the City that students don't go to because it's strictly locals-only (don't get me wrong, this isn't some kind of welsh nationalist apartheid thing, it's just like an unwritten rule). I like to think that for the most part, students and locals co-exist peacefully enough - I've even met local men and women who are perfectly lovely, but like anywhere - you'll always come across arseholes. 

There are three nightclubs in the City; Q, S and B. I'll describe them for you:

Q

Q is the nightclub we visit most often. It is a literal shithole; sticky floors, questionable patrons and bathrooms which leave a lot to be desired. Despite this we enjoy it. A lot of student go there, especially on a Wednesday (student wednesday, woo) because of 75p jagerbombs and £1 drinks. Q is okay on a Friday, you notice the locals more and it can sometimes be hit and miss - the price of drinks spike as well, where you'd spend 75p on a jagerbomb on a Wednesday, you're paying £3.20 (YES, THREE POUNDS TWENTY) on a Friday. Ridiculous. On a Saturday, Q is no-man's land. Or no-student's land, because the locals are hideously drunk and hilariously aggressive. We stay well away from Q on a Saturday.

S

S is the newest nightclub in the City. Full of poser locals who think they're better than they actually are, and also full of snobby students who look down on Q and the people who go there. The music in S is alright, I suppose, but nothing special and the drinks are often expensive, more so than anywhere else (you can't get away with £2 shots and bottles here, I'm afraid) and so we don't often go. They have guest DJs and special guests sometimes that we'll make the effort to see, but apart from that there's nothing special about it.

B

B is the student-run nightclub. It's nothing to look at but I've had many a good night here on account of the good music, cheap drinks and good company. We go here on Mondays and Saturdays usually, and can get blind drunk on a tenner.

Since beginning University, I have come to appreciate pre-drinking. Often, pre-drinking is the best part of the night, you can laugh and talk to your friends - something you can't do on a busy, sweaty dancefloor. One of the best pre-drink drinking games you can play is 'Roxanne'. Drinking when they sing 'Roxanne' and turning on the spot when they sing 'red light' is one of the funniest and easiest ways to get ridiculously drunk before you go out. And if you don't fill up a water bottle with a concoction of alcohol to walk down to the club with, then you're stupid.

~~~

Let's call him 'deep V-neck'. Pushing past me in the club (one hand brushing me across the arse as he goes), he eyes me like I am a gutted pig at the abattoir. This is an undeniable reality for any woman in a nightclub. Guys stare at you, internally deciding whether or not to take the time to speak to you, or to dance on you, whichever is their preferred method of attack. To them, you're nothing more than a set of holes that could be of use to them for the night. Every guy is charming, and funny and sweet with you in the club, but just because they buy you a snakebite and tell you that you're pretty doesn't mean you should give them unfettered access to your vagina. Expect nothing, and give nothing away - the most I'd stretch to on a night out is a kiss, nothing more (I met you like, an hour ago, what makes you think you're coming home with me?).