You’ll be sad to know I don’t have a girlfriend, but delighted to hear I’ve met a bitch… oh cripes, I, I, I shouldn’t have said that, I’m, er, not a bally idiot like Trump — ho no, I’m far more sensible and cultured than that comedy politician! Oh, too late — yaroo, I’d better scarper before they give me the cane…
(Yes, that was a vague attempt at a BoJo impression — be thankful it’s as political as I’ll get tonight!)
My latest attempt to get a girlfriend proved to have been doomed from the start: even though I met her through a dating app, it seems that “date no.3” was actually “friendly meeting no.3”, and she’d never been actually dating me in the first place… despite all she’d gone through to get together with me (such as walking all the way down to Trafalgar Square to join the homeless-helping event I was part of). She was happy for me to kiss her on both cheeks, but when I tried to kiss her on the mouth, she suddenly realised I’d been going for her all along, instead of regarding her as yet another “friend who is a girl”.
I know I’ve said in the past that men and women can be “just friends”, though also that I hate the limiter “just”, as though the only people I’m allowed to be in close platonic relationships with are those not of my sexual preference (or who are, but I don’t fancy them). However, I really wish I didn’t keep making more female friends, and could actually, y’know, find one special girl and get some action without having to pay for it through anything other than the long, hard journey to find her.
(Uh huh huh huh, “long and hard” — hey baby, wanna see my, uh, journey?)
However, I’ve still got hope that my efforts will bear fruit, and my mother’s inspired me in that respect. No, I’m not being a mummy’s boy here, and indeed tend to go precisely against her advice (especially in political terms) out of lingering teenage parental rebellion — it’s something she achieved, after I helped her get that far through simple support… and, of course, a desire for her to achieve it because I’d benefit as well.
Yes, you’ve guessed: finally, we have a doggy in the family again, for the first time in 20 years! Twice I came down to visit my folks in Worthing during my two weeks off work, and while the dog we met at a rescue centre during my first visit didn’t seem appropriate to us (more interested in fetching a tennis ball than being petted), it was when I’d returned to London that she told me she’d just met another dog at the centre, which had liked both her and my grandmother — and indeed, the latter had become so willing to accept a new dog that she paid herself!
Of course we’ll always remember Scraps and the other dogs we’ve known in our lives, but who have sadly gone walkies in Doggy Heaven, but it’s time to move on and make the most of our new little friend, a Chihuahua named Lola, who insists on rolling over and having her tummy tickled at every opportunity (even grabbing your hand with her front paws and pulling it towards her). She won’t play with toys (yet), but my folks are happy to have her as an affectionate lapdog anyway!
I’ve been through worse problems with getting a girlfriend over the past few, er, decades (which I summarised earlier this year, and probably a few times before that), but I’ve made it this far, and at least I’m still getting first dates (on the rare occasions I match with a woman who isn’t in Hong Kong or Taiwan) — maybe, just maybe, my onscreen age starting with a digit higher than 3 isn’t causing me too many problems? I know I’ll need to continue taking the advice of my dating coach (online session on Tuesday), but if my love life has been just as frustrating as my mother’s attempts to gain canine companionship, perhaps someone special is going to appear just when, er, someone else turns out to be fun but unsuitable, just when all seems hopeless?
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Just so you know, other losses and gains during my birthday fortnight include my weight heading back down towards 13 stone (something which hasn’t happened since 2018, when I was in hospital), my lamotrigine twice-daily doses going up towards 200mg, and my achievements in Assassin’s Creed III increasing (finished!) but my patience decreasing when it comes to 100% sync in each mission… and the Liberation mini-game greatly increasing the number of error events and decreasing the reliability index of both my computers (to say nothing of not actually using “the cloud” to store savegames, for no reason!).
There have also been some great additions to my stockpile of possessions: not only did my mother get me a collection of the classic comic strip Invasion 1984! (which was published at the time my grandmother taught me it was the year 1983), but I found the first eight seasons of Red Dwarf on DVD in a charity shop! I’ll be back to commuting to and from work next week, so I’ll watch those smegging gimboids instead of reading on the Tube, and at night I’ll be enjoying the comic strip that predated Independence Day by over a decade — and since I just finished Stephen King’s The Wind Through the Keyhole before returning to work, it seems like a good time for a change.
It’s almost as though I’m returning to school (or university) in the autumn, after a summer break, ready for a new phase in my life… or it would be if the weather hadn’t sucked so badly that my shoes got soaked taking our new dog walkies in the park, and coat weather having already arrived!