Irrepressible happiness.

Ahahaha, I cannot stay in a bad mood for very long. I ought to be in a terrible mood. I am in the middle of the hardest work week of my entire year, which is saying something. I haven’t had sex in two months, maybe longer, I am still deaf in one ear and I am regaining weight as we speak. I mean, I can literally see it appearing before my eyes. Despite all this, I am in a terrific mood. I was singing and dancing today. I know I’m happy when I dance on the platform on the London Underground. (I do this quite often. If you see someone doing this who looks like they might be me, it is probably me.)

I can’t really pinpoint any special reason for this sudden burst of happiness – I even have premature Christmas spirit, if you please – but if you want a couple of focal points, I guess there are a couple of things. Firstly, there’s that Hungarian boy who I might have mentioned. We’ve only had one date but there is talk of a second date. I really like him. He is stupidly young but if anything I regard that as adding value. He and I get along. We have a nice little understanding. He is extremely pretty and I find it amusing that his online dating profile exasperatedly tells readers not to repeatedly message him if he is obviously not interested. He is interested in me. He is also a bit scared of me but then so are a lot of people. We will see what happens. Bless his heart. I feel like buying him a puppy for Christmas.

Relatedly, there is the Honcho. The Honcho mostly makes me feel (a) angry and (b) sad and only occasionally (c) horny but just at the moment I feel (d) a kind of friendship and (e) a degree of sympathy. He has lost all control of the situation and I think that during our last fight I scared him. He is a bit defeated and I kind of regret that because it is not a good colour on him. Despite this, he hangs on in there. On the spur of the moment, I offered him a date this weekend, in rather (okay, very) uncomplimentary language and he appears to be thinking about it, when he should not have responded to such a rude message at all. I don’t know why he has the perseverance to carry on. So bless him too. I feel generous because it is suddenly Christmas.

We should have a new Christmas dating season. Here’s Eartha Kitt, all the way back in 1954. If I were Santa, I would get her whatever the hell she wants, she looks dangerous.

Come and trim my Christmas tree, with some decorations bought at Tiffany. I really do believe in you. Let’s see if you believe in me.

Eartha Kitt: Santa Baby

 

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