Tag: breakup

Painting the kitchen floor for a reason.

You know me. As much as I would love to be self-starting and self-motivating, the reality is that most of the time I won’t take action unless there’s some kind of external factor prompting me, usually something to do with boys.

I broke up with Leroy. I loved him quite a lot considering we only just met, but he is a big liar and a fake so we are done with each other. In the kind of reactive move that I like, I immediately booked appointments with my hairdresser, dentist and Botox doctor. Then I called for the Honcho, but he was out, as we used to say in the 1970s. Then I texted Blondie and told him he could come over on Friday. Then I realised that his flat is probably a lot more swank than mine, so I painted the kitchen floor.

kitchen floor

While I was in the middle of painting the floor, a friend of mine who is himself a bit prone to weight gain, called round and told me that I was looking the sexiest he has ever seen me. This made me well happy as I am 25 pounds heavier than I should be and I was feeling deeply unattractive and kind of embarrassed. So the fact that he would say that and ogle my tits even though I was just wearing an old t shirt and my fat girl jeans fairly cheered me up. Made me feel a bit more optimistic that Blondie isn’t going to run screaming when he comes round tomorrow.

You will note that I did not move the furniture before painting the floor, because fuck that, I just painted round it. Nor did I bother painting behind the door, because fuck that as well. 1 Home point anyway.

Next time it needs doing, I am thinking of throwing some glitter in with the paint. I feel that it would give the kitchen more personality.

Home Improvements, with bonus breakups and swimming.

My weekend continues at a pace that I can barely keep up with. It’s now 7.30pm on Sunday evening and I need to give you the next news update otherwise we will fall hopelessly behind.

Right, so I returned from Brussels and immediately tackled various items on my to-do list, one of which was ‘Break up with Charlie’. We totally reached the end of the line. He is an unchangingly sweet, compliant and helpful person, but the more I got to know him, the more I realised he has no common sense, to the point where it is almost a disability. He constantly loses, forgets and drops his belongings, and you’d better not ask him to hold anything for you for even a few minutes because he will lose that as well. When he goes out, he leaves the door open. When he returns, he will try to break into other people’s apartments because their door looks similar and he got confused. He is totally oblivious to his surroundings and relies on the person he is with to tell him where he is and where he is going. He will cause you say “Don’t do stupid things” – believe me, this is a serious deal-breaker where I am concerned, I have lost count of the times I had to say that to Little G and also to my last boyfriend who I broke up with in 2010, prior to starting this blog. I swear I will not have that in my life again. I have absolutely and completely fulfilled my lifetime quota of telling men not to do stupid things. I don’t know why these morons are so attracted to me but I am not having it any more.

It was all a very long way from the dynamic, well-organised media entrepreneur that he styled himself as when we first met. So he had to go. I am relieved. The best thing I can say about it is that he took the news quite well, was polite and didn’t fight it.

sit here

That done, I cracked on with playing yet another game of Tetris with my flat. As you know, I live in a small flat that is full of stuff. I am more or less permanently on a mission to declutter but no matter how much stuff I pitch, a new challenge will arise that means that the amount of stuff I have left becomes a problem.

So. Windows. I am getting my windows replaced, and very expensive it is too. I am very overdrawn at the bank right now. A few days ago, the guys came out to measure my windows so they could give me a detailed quote. I have 6 windows and you will not be surprised to learn that they are all set into the outer walls (that is exactly the kind of logic puzzle that would have had Charlie scratching his head). Therefore, in order for the window people to measure up, I had to take all of my belongings, most of which are tragically still in boxes and crates and move them away from the outer walls, into the centre of the rooms.

There my stuff remained because I was optimistically hoping that the windows would get replaced right away but I’ve just found out they aren’t doing it until January. I was rather disappointed as I am sick of living in what looks like a broken-down warehouse but I got over it and today I paid the first 50% of what it’s going to cost.

Then on Friday, it was time for the cooker to arrive. The new cooker. Which comes in two parts, I ordered an oven and a separate hood, as I have learned to call the roof part of the cooker. At this point I will show you some photos of my awful kitchen and you will see how far removed it is from the ideals of gentle living and thoughtful interior design that we saw in Belgium.

This is what I have been putting up with. As you can see, the oven door has fallen off and the hood was beaten up during the Crime of April this year, just like me and like so many other things around my flat, all of which will eventually have to be repaired or replaced.

old kitchen

old kitchen oven

old kitchen hood

You can perhaps imagine how much I was looking forward to getting it all sorted out. My hopes were unrealistic, though, as there had to be a series of comical British mishaps before anything could get done. First the oven was in some way the wrong amount of watts for being attached to the mains. No problem, the guy said, because there’s a plug socket back here and we can plug it in. Except the plug socket didn’t work. Fuckin’ A. So then we had to drill holes in the kitchen cupboard and the work surface, using slightly the wrong drill bit, so that eventually the oven could be plugged in to a socket that had power and we were in business. All that remained was to fit the new hood. But no. Because the man had not been trained in hood fitting so he could not do it. So I had to phone the company and arrange for a second, differently-qualified man to come out on Wednesday and do the hood part. So that is why the hood is sitting in the kitchen in a cardboard box LIKE EVERYTHING ELSE THAT I OWN.

ffs. Here’s the new cooker, anyway. It has another shelf which is not shown in this photo, and I don’t know what to use to get the oily finger marks off the front, but you get the general idea.

new oven

The depressed, squat-like quality of my kitchen is enhanced by the fact that I’ve had a blanket hanging over the window for the last 7 months, because the roller blind was pulled down in the Crime and I eventually realised that there was no point replacing it when the window frames are about to be removed. So the fact that the windows aren’t going to be replaced until January disappointed me, partly because I still can’t unpack and partly because it meant that my whole Christmas was going to involve being surrounded by cardboard boxes and cooking in a room that had a rag over the window like some sort of refugee camp. So I went to the supermarket and purchased their fanciest paper table cloth, which turned out, by some miracle, to be about the right size for the window, so we are using that instead. I am surprised by how much better it looks. It will do, won’t it. It will do until I can get proper window coverings in January.

tablecloth window

After all that was done, I went to the gym and swam 50 lengths without too much difficulty, which cheered me up considerably.

1 Reclaiming the Home point and 1 Health point. The new oven came in the nick of time because tomorrow’s post is going to be about Food.

In which the only winner is my waistline.

“I love you”, said Disraeli as I was dumping him. “I know”, I said, “of course you do”. Of course he loves me. I did the Honcho Method on him for let’s see, four weeks, didn’t kiss him and didn’t take any of my clothes off. So naturally he is crazy about me. Because the Method works. This is not really a cause for celebration, is it. I told Disraeli that he had had a lucky escape, that he is lucky I am letting him go now before he gets even more attached to me and has to spend the rest of his life begging me to have a more normal relationship with him (cough).

After that was dealt with, I wasted some time brooding and thinking Dark Thoughts.

Dark Thought #1: I get a massive kick out of the Honcho, such a massive kick that I am surprised it is legal.

When things are going well, when he and I are getting on well, which is so difficult lately that one day without arguing feels like a huge success, then it is the best thing ever. You’ve seen what it does to me. I dance, flirt with him, listen to the Bee Gees without irony and generally feel so happy, so unnaturally happy, that it is like getting an armful of heroin and you feel euphoric and wonder if your heart is going to stop beating and don’t even care that much if you die right there on the spot. It is terrific. It feels like all I could ever want or need. I am still talking to him after all this time because it is really hard to believe that if he can deliver this feeling, and he seems to enjoy doing so, and he seems to like me more in this mood than when I’m angry, given all those things, it is hard to believe that we can’t make something successful out of this relationship. We are both intelligent people, we enjoy each other. Why can’t it work? It has to be able to work, on some level, if we could just find the right formula. I know this is completely deluded and he quite obviously gets his kicks out of it never getting off the ground at all, but these are the kinds of thoughts that make come back to him, time after time. Disraeli’s problem was (a) he existed in real life a bit too much and I prefer the non-threatening, remote intimacy of the Honcho, where there are never any real-life issues, and (b) as much as I like him, Disraeli is to the Honcho what a cup of tea is to a monsoon.

Dark Thought #2: Once you have the cheat codes, the game is broken.

So I’ve known the Honcho for a fucking long time now and all we have ever done is talk, so we know each other quite well. And as you have seen, he allows himself to be coaxed into teaching me The Method. Obviously, I have first hand experience of having it done on me for 2 years, so I know all the actions quite well, the missing piece was the rationale, the strategy. Which he is now filling in for me. I find it very fascinating. I tried it on Disraeli and the Young Scientist and I was absolutely shocked at how effective it is. This is rather an interesting situation. It has rather taken the mystery out of heterosexual relationships. It is like being handed the cheat codes to a favourite video game. At first the cheat codes are brilliant fun, you award yourself stacks of virtual money and infinite survivability and it is great. You can’t believe it. But then after about five minutes you realise that you’ve just ruined the game for yourself. You’ve basically broken it. If you want a man to fall in love with you, say and do certain things, cook on Gas Mark 4 for 20 minutes, and you will get reliable results. So that’s the mysterious and exciting game of romance completely fucked, isn’t it.

Dark Thought #3: This man has a horrible personality.

That didn’t really need saying, did it. Also, I haven’t seen him since January 2012. Why? At first (like let’s say the first 4 months or so after this date, before I knew there was anything wrong or what I’d got myself into) he used to do this to manipulate me, in line with The Method. Then after that there was a long period where he was doing it because he decided that I was being too demanding(!), I can’t even remember the details of this now, but basically I was complaining a lot about the way he was treating me and he felt it necessary to state that there wouldn’t be another date until I agreed that I didn’t have any right to expect anything from him (at this point we’ve been closely involved with each other, on a daily or near-daily basis for a year, 18 months). And then there is the third phase of the last six to eight months where we aren’t close to making any real plans to see each other because we are in a mutual stand-off. His position is unchanged because The Method says ‘once you order something, you do not ever, ever go back on that, you don’t change your mind, you don’t compromise’. Meanwhile my position is that I can’t have sex with him even if he wanted to see me, because I have endured two and a half years of manipulation and outright abuse and now I hate him. You’ll notice this doesn’t have much impact on item 1, which is really annoying.

I needed to find a way of dealing with the Dark Thoughts and not waste my weekend on them. As an act of equal parts self-discipline and self-hatred, I went to the gym. For five and a half hours.

I did all the weight training. Then I power-walked for two hours on the treadmill. Then I got in the pool and swam 70 lengths, which is a personal record, everybody. I hope you are impressed, I am way impressed with myself. That was the massivest gym session ever. I achieved personal bests in both swimming and amount of overall effort in a single gym visit.

I’m obviously highly motivated with regard to gym and diet at the moment because we are a mere three pounds off my goal weight, and shedding three measly pounds could take forever but also, rather scarily, it could be a matter of days. What happens then? I’ve been on this epic weight loss journey since July 2011. About two and a half years. I know a lot, a lot, about trying to lose weight. I don’t know a damn thing about what to do when you get to the weight you want. That sounds like a whole different ball game. I might do a bit of googling and see what other slimmers have to say about it. Obviously the big danger is losing motivation because you’ve reached your goal and thus gaining weight back again. On the other hand, you don’t necessarily want to set a new goal to lose another 33 lbs because anorexia. So we’ll see. I’ll do some reading, it’s bound to be interesting.

Phew! That was a lot of talking. 3 Health points.



Postscript: Oh, and guess what. You remember I said I was giving him until midnight or we were going back on ignore? He’s just emailed me. Just now, while I was writing this. At 23:05.

Point Break

It is just about to turn New Year and I am in a contemplative mood. Actually I’m in the sort of mood that is induced by large amounts of chocolate biscuits and World of Warcraft, because you know that’s what I want more than anything else at this time of year. So mainly that. But also a contemplative mood as I look back at the close of 2013 and face the coming months.

Recent events, including the sudden crash of Christmas Angels, and the resulting self-imposed quarantine lead me to have Thoughts about the nature of my relationships and in turn this has led me to break up with everyone I could possibly think of to break up with, that is, except for those who broke up with me first. Let us review all the people who have been major players in 2013 who I am no longer involved with.

  1. Sayed. We are through. Sayed uses words such as love and friendship but he does not know what these words mean. He thinks he knows, but he does not know. They are just sounds that he has learned from other people and he says them because it seems to be what people like to hear. I am sorry I did not figure this out when I knew him before. I could have figured it out if I’d been paying attention, but I was too busy having fun. It’s all fun and games until somebody puts an eye out.
  2. Head Honcho. Dead as a dodo. I hung on to him for so long because I suspected that he was the last man I would ever take seriously but that in itself is not enough to keep him interested or even awake. He is more bored than a plank of wood and there is nothing left that we haven’t said to each other.
  3. Abdul is lost and gone for ever.
  4. Chinese-Speaking Angel exited stage left.
  5. I broke up with Hussein this morning. The geographical distance plus severe language barrier proved completely insurmountable. If your whole relationship consists of fiddling with Google Translate just for the privilege of reading messages such as ‘I am vere angre why you dont text me’ and ‘I am in my acomodation I am going to kill myself’ then that’s not really a relationship, is it. In fact, it is a problem. One that I cannot solve.

I think that’s it. There’s no-one left. They are all gone. The old ones, the new ones, the distant ones. This is the most single I’ve been for a long time.

I don’t know where that leaves us. I guess I have about 10 weeks of The Hills Are Alive in which to think about it. In many ways, 2013 was a terrific year for romance. I fell in love regularly and all my lovers were carefully selected for not being able to offer any real commitment, because I don’t like commitment too much. So they were all carefully selected for being flighty and unreliable (Sayed), aggressively detached in a way that makes me look like an amateur (Honcho), thousands of miles away (Abdul, Hussein) or ridiculously too young (various, also see Hungarian Boy).

The thing is, I am still a textbook commitment-phobe and I still don’t want a proper relationship. My ex from many years ago recently remarried and I am happy for him but the thought of that happening to me fills me with horror. It steals your life and makes you old and I don’t want it. I especially don’t want family life. I especially don’t want in-laws. Or anyone’s children anywhere near me. I like single people who have no responsibilities and are free to go on holiday.

I have 10 or so weeks of gym starting right now, since it is now 1st January, in which to think about what kind of relationship I want next. It is tricky. I was enjoying the whirlwinds of romance of 2013, I enjoy falling in love and having crushes, but there may come a time when one feels that one wants something back, something in return. Yet I’m still fundamentally unavailable, meaning that someone who really liked me that much and had something to offer would be unlikely to have a particularly super time.

Maybe I am over-thinking the whole thing. I dare say when I have shed a few pounds, am in the swing of things at the gym and when the smiles of Delroy The Beautiful are once again part of my life, I will stop asking myself these difficult questions about what we can hope for from love. Because life is a little bit too short for that, and also for this post.

HNY, readers, HNY.

You have no mail.

Which is good. I am glad he is leaving me alone. I told him not to write to me again and tell me he’s dreaming of me because he is a liar.

I cried a lot today and missed off peak hours at the gym but my appetite, even for whisky and Florentines, has disappeared so at least my diet ought to benefit.

0 Health points.

I am unloading on Socrates in a totally inappropriate way but he seems to be dealing with it all right. Klaus had to do this all the time for me. Fucking Honcho. It is a bad situation when you have to have an emotional first aid team to patch up the injuries you incur just by talking to him.


I went to the gym to lift weights and then I walked 7 miles at a faster pace than my usual best effort until it felt like something was going twang in my leg. 2 Health points.

OMG dating news.

I had two emails. Actually, they arrived 2 days apart but I only just read them both together, just now, thanks to bloody meetup.com sending me thousands of notifications that I don’t need and that are laborious to opt out of. So here they are.


Pedro. Has fallen in love with his flatmate and wants to break up with me. Aww. No problem, baby, it’s fine. Do what you need to do. I am only disappointed that I will not get to see him react to my jaw-dropping weight loss while he’s been away, which I was looking forward to.


The Head Honcho. Said he has not stopped thinking about me for a week(!). Actually used the phrase ‘dreaming of you’.

I would love to think that it is just because he loves me, and I did think that for a few minutes but then I realised it’s more likely been triggered because he’s feeling like he’s not very in love with someone else. Hey ho. We will see what happens. It certainly makes me feel like exercising more. It is our two year anniversary next month, I told him to feel free to bring a present.

Now I need to clean my house again because Socrates is coming over tomorrow.

Roy Davis Jr: About Love

Two more days.

Out of fairness to JC, I feel I should note here that we subsequently had two more days of conversation in which honest and civil things were said about the relationship, we were decent to each other, and he finally dumped me, for ever and in no uncertain terms, in the kindest way that he knows how.

And now I will FINALLY shut up about him and we will never speak of it again.

Gene Chandler: Duke of Earl (1962)