Characteristically Irresponsible

I spent most of my even-more-boring-than-usual workweek last week anticipating the weekend... Saturday finally arrived.

- Mooch around the house eagerly awaiting grocery delivery (consisting almost entirely of cocktail ingredients): Check

- Manage a pathetically slow jog along the Thames: Check (PS never *ever* again without gloves on, what was I thinking?)

- Make lots of cocktails for the girls: Check and double check... triple, quadruple, quintuple check even!

- Head out to lovely local trendy bar for a spot of boy-hunting: Check

Weekend was going swimmingly - I was even uncharacteristically responsible and ordered water when we got out to the bar. Then I got characteristically irresponsible and started drinking bourbon. Kept drinking bourbon until I was rolling drunk - although I only remember having 3 drinks! I'm still a little confused... I didn't think I'd had more to drink than any of the other girls and usually by the time I get that drunk it means that all other ordinary women should be passed out - my once-legendary capacity for alcohol may not be up the to standards I thought.

Don't remember the lights coming on at the end f the night.
Don't remember falling over whilst exiting the bar. classy!
Don't remember pashing some bloke on the bridge whilst two of my other friends attempted to hail a taxi. At least, according to them, he was quite good looking. Shame I don't remember him - now, not only do I not remember the last time I got laid... I can't even remember the last time I kissed a boy. tops.

my mother would be *so* proud

Managed to get home, have unholy craving for tuna salad (?!) which I can't remember making or eating, but did succeed in spilling lots on the floor - then chewed some gum and then - the classiness continues - somehow it fell out of my mouth and onto my bed - managed to roll in it all night and get it on both shoulders of my PJs, pillowcase and sheets - thankfully not in my hair. I did wake up and wonder why my bed smelt of peppermint extra.

Woke up feeling godawful and felt that way for the rest of the day... plus feeling a wee bit silly.

I am just constantly disappointing myself! The next night I got a text from an english boy - who made no effort when we dated earlier this year - asking me out for a drink and for some reason I agreed - but said just coffee round the corner, so at least I wasn't going out of my way, but don't know why I bothered.

So last night I get a text at 8:15pm telling me he's had a shocker of a day at work and is just leaving the office - can we take a raincheck? The honest answer: nah, I really can't be arsed

I wished I written that. I didn't. I didn't reply at all.

good news is that my fabulous friend has signed me up for mysinglefriend.com and my profile just got approved and went live - so I spent most of last night cruising photos of boys online and watching them add me their favourites list and send the occasional message. Wonderful for the ego.

wish I could play with my profile during work hours... but the colourful website is just a little too obvious... and cruising for men online during work hours would surely be looked down upon. Shopping and blogging however...

I just hope no one notices

something occurred to me...

I can't remember the last time I got laid.

literally.

..not cos it was so long ago... just because I actually can't remember the night

tragic.

my friends find it quite amusing though.

I've silenced my inner critic and arrived at the conclusion that my friend and I definitely got our drinks spiked. Having drunk copious amounts of champagne since (purely in the name of research ofcourse) and survived to describe the night in detail, I just can't explain that night any other way.

In a way I guess I'm lucky I wasn't attacked, or didn't wake up next to a bloke who resembled the hunchback of Notre Dame - thankful for small mercies. It has been a tragically long time between getting any luvvin for me though, it'd be far nicer to remember it - although I guess I'm optimistically assuming I'd want to... never can be too sure with boys these days! there are certainly some one night stands I'd prefer I didn't remember...

A Fairy Tale Romance

so I'm back in the country, friends and family visited, wedding completed and (you'd have to hope by now) consummated... no dramas on the big day... no rain until we'd reached the reception - then the heavens opened (really very kind of them to hold off until the photos were done though)

My first effort as bridesmaid - quite exhausting really.

Bridesmaid-status was achieved not only by having been bestest-buddies with the bride since we were 12, but also by having the proud distinction of having set the happy couple up. It was a proud day for me.

Once upon a time...

It all started 5 years ago at a friend's house party... somehow the topic of blind dates came up and the bride-to-be fatefully commented that she'd probably trust my judgement if I were to try and set her up with someone. This got me to thinking... I worked with about 60 blokes, there'd have to be one that was at least semi-decent. And so I chose one for her, cited his favourable features of being tall, wearing glasses, and no doubt (knowing he had a computer-geek's natural aversion to exercise) skinny legs (the bride-to-be favoured the skinny academic look)

So she thought he sounded suitable and I had to embark upon Phase 2: convincing my ever-so-shy geeky workmate to go on a blind date. Hmn. Given that our office was more prone to gossip than your average knitting circle, I ever-so-cleverly messaged the boy via computer

you ever been on a blind date?
yeah, once
wanna go on another one?

Fortunately the boy manned-up and agreed. Unfortunately his boss and another co-worker were reading the conversation over his shoulder at the time and the impending date became the subject of much speculation and merriment throughout the entire office.

Realising the narrow chance this had of ended happily ever after, I gave the boy what I thought was the most genius get-out-of-this-with-ego-intact escape clause. Look, I told him, if she doesn't like you - don't be insulted, she has this *terrible* habit of only falling for absolute assholes.

he contemplated this for a second, then said: ...so what does that mean if she likes me?

to which I replied - well then, it means she's grown some taste!

(can you believe that I don't work in marketing!?!)

so the date went ahead - a triple date, my (now ex)boyfriend and I, my friend and her boyfriend, and the lucky couple-to-be.

[Carrie, Sex and the City: "I believe there is a curse put on the head of anyone who tries to set up their friends"]

and my selfless cupid-like act came back to bite me big time.

The bride-to-be had rung me and told me that it just wasn't happening for her - he's a lovely bloke she said, but the magic wasn't there, there was no spark.

No worries I told her - not like I expected you to marry him!

The groom came to visit me at work soon after, perched on the edge of my desk, and with eyes positively glistening exclaimed "Thanks so much for setting me up with her! ...I'm eternally indebted to you! She's wonderful!"

I thought ohhh my lord... he's going to cry when he finds out!

So the bride-to-be had planned in detail how best to break up with him when he came round one evening. He came round with a dozen long stemmed red roses. The plan went out the window.

and the rest... as they say... is history :)