Damn, it’s been a while since I saw an old post on this blog, which I read just to make sure I’m not reusing titles (again) — but as back then, I’m posting now just to make it clear that I’m not dead, especially since I’m older and more at risk now than I was in 2013, partly due to the health situaiton that came to a head (ahem) in 2018, but also simply because I’m in my
early forties mid-thirties late twenties now, and not as youthful as I was back then, when not staying up late for Family Guy meant I could get up in the mornings in time to make sarnies before setting off for work, and then climb once or twice a week, as well as going to Meetup.com events, instead of feeling so exhausted (physically and socially) that I spend almost every night in.
(I know, I know, it’s because I worked much closer to home, and could even commute back here to have dinner before setting off for the Castle, something I can’t do now I’m working in Marylebone!)
But still, gradually I’m making progress in ways I didn’t back then: for one thing, my immunity should now render me invulnerable to measles, mumps and rubella. My mother’s been worried about me lately, as though I had “German measles” as a child (late summer in 1982 or 1983, I wonder?), and a measles jab when I was 17 (late 1994… no, wait, early 21st century!), I’ve never had mumps, despite two people at my school in the 6th form coming down with it at the same time. Thus I’ve gone through with it, getting a triple-jab (no, not with three needles at once!) at a private clinic just across the road from my workplace, and naturally am feeling dizzy, albeit in a more humdrum fashion than I did when “mind static” was messing with my life.
I’m improving in romantic terms (hey, only
25 10 five years late, eh?), thanks to my dating dinh (the one with the name very similar to the Joker’s girlfriend), who’s not only encouraged me to go up to women in the street purely to say hi and talk to them briefly (as a way of building confidence to be the initiator), but has also taken better pictures of me than the ones I’d used in my dating profiles before! My luck may also be changing when it comes to dating apps, as I’m back to connecting with multiple women again (even if some of them aren’t in London but still show as being so because they visited briefly a week ago), and even had a date last week!
In a similar vein (ahem), I’m also progressing in social terms (or at least undoing my recent regression), and while I still don’t go to many events these days, and certainly don’t enjoy “getting out of my comfort zone”, I’m at least going to a few more meetups than earlier this year. This includes a dancing event tonight, which reminded me of my Meetup.com days in 2013: even if I’m unhappy and anxious at the start, it’s likely I’ll loosen up a bit and feel like joining in, and maybe make new friends.
(Of course, I’m a lot happier talking to girls, or even nice old ladies, than smug male hipsters!)
But the most important progress of all: my mother’s going to sell the flat-above-shops in Worthing, and move herself and my grandmother (and, by extension, my inheritance) away from that wretched hive. Maybe Horsham, maybe further afield — indeed, she’d rather move to a hot Mediterranean country and ditch this place once and for all, but there’s the rub: although she could care for her mother abroad, if progress is made (or regained) by my “space invader”, she’d have to look after me as well during treatment, which would mean staying here, ideally in close proximity to a hospital.
This is another reason I need to find a woman: if I had a wife and family, they could support me during the difficult times if (or more likely when) my cerebral situation flares up again, and my mother would be able to retire in more ways than one, and not have to take care of me when I should be taking care of her. On that basis, I need to make progress on improving my diet and getting my weight back below 13 stone, so I don’t run the risk of developing diabetes…
Damn, I wish medical science would make a quantum leap, especially before the NHS is privatised — which wouldn’t be “progress” at all, except on the road to Hell!