Ever so lucky to be alive, and yet so sad to not be sharing it all with someone i love.
Ever so alone, and yet so lucky to have so many wonderful friends.
Suddenly close to tears for absolutely no reason.
Calm after my drive home with the most fabulous moon.
Ready for a bath.

Just so you know, I am battling on with the pink diary. The temptation to give up is huge, yet somehow i feel i must write it to the end, only then will this horrid pink book, which started with so much promise, which was meant to be a new leaf, and has turned so sour and been such a disappointment, be done and over with.

Do you think i will ever stop childishly believing in the power of the diary itself in shaping the events which it contains?!

X

I am sat in Sophie’s room, it is surprisingly nice. I feel very at home. Tom is in my room - sleeping in the buff - his first night. He seems to have settled in well. We wandered down to Icco’s for a pizza with Tatch and came back via Fitzroy square. All very pleasant. It feels like I’m on holiday, walking around a city past 8pm in a summer dress and not feeling the cold.

Wimbledon final today, I watched the first 2 sets, saw Nadal was streets ahead and turned it off. It would have been so lovey for an underdog to win..

I was feeling all poo-ey, and i still am periodically, but my friends are so fucking awesome. I had the most blissfull email from Yoyo in Greece, which starts ‘He’s SUCH a JERK’ and Carla dropped in to hampshire with these perfect glittery cupcake specimens stolen from her cousin’s barmitzvah, and a bottle of pink lemonade to make me better. She really is a babe and a half.

And Yoyo is right. He really is a jerk. I do deserve better. I was looking at Tom’s stuff, and Greg has bad taste in ties, and in cufflinks, and is generally not as well clothed.
Max has said i can stay, I’m currently thinking Tues night. Just to get away, sleep up in his barn loft room, the inference is there though, and i’m not sure. It could be just what i need. It could be seriously fun, or it could be dreadful, and ruin a well-established friendship. Decisions decisions.

I was going to wallow in my sadness, but as they say ’ what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.’ ( BULLSHIT - Illness?! ) Either way, I resolve to be a collected Audrey Hepburn style strong single woman full of confidence, unafraid of love and pain. I have emailed a new Match.com boy and have sent the lovely Jimmy a text. Tom also has a rather Tasty friend called Mitch who i have an eye on - perhaps come September.

All is not lost.
World is my oyster.
Fish in the sea.

BLAH BLAH BLAH.

p.s - looking over this book, i have just realised that i have wasted an entire week moping. Must not let love/men control my life, and instead must be un-needy fabulous singleton.

I feel like crap.

I feel unsexy, unworthy
properly like crap.

I hate him for making me feel like this, and i hate myself for allowing it to happen.
I need to do something, change something.

All i can think of is physical stuff, I’d like to be browner, fitter, more toned. I’d like longer, blonder hair. I can do all these things, and i will do them all, but will they make the difference? I also need to change other things i guess.

How the FUCK do you go about finding a nice, good-looking, well-mannered, sexy bloke who treats you well and makes you feel good? Makes you smile inside?

Because i’m failing. I’m okay on my own, I really am, and I’d rather be alone than in the wrong relationship, but i do need some love. I need someone to hold me, touch me, kiss me, dry tears, wake up next to me. I don’t really give a crap so much about the sex, i need the support, and it just isn’t there.

It’s just me. I’ve been a one man band for too long. Just me.

Why does nobody love me? I’m happy being myself, I have confidence, I’m comfortable, assured, friendly, busy, active, bright, and alone. So fucking alone. X

I have had the most delicious day. Queued from 11 in St. Christopher’s Place for a bespoke dress. We were v. near the front ( Tats, Sophs and I ) and met some lovely people.
I had such a nice time, drinks, coffee, free chocolate, chatting, magazines, the most beautiful handmade corsages for a mere ‘donation’ ie: a tenner. And of course a free dress in 4 weeks time. Mine is dusky rose pink, with a silver/grey sash, all silk taffeta, very exciting and hopefully very classic, I was thinking Grace Kelly. It is halterneck, sweetheart neckline, waist panel, with a full skirt. After that i also picked up free handcream from Rituals, and then popped in to see Yoyo before she flies back to Greece. Soph drove us out, leaving at 5ish which I expected to be awful, but traffic was, not great but okay, home in under 2 hours.

It’s wonderful to be here, so green and peaceful. We sat down on the terrace with a jug of Pimms ( fresh homegrown alpine strawberries ) and had supps. Carla pitched up, and we had tea and hot chocolate by candlelight. All very civ. Weather wonderful. Nowt from Tom since our hilarious phone conversation as I crossed Hyde park, and no postcard from G either. Hoping for shoes to arrive tomorrow, and looking forward to a studio day. Heaven. Including this sleep, 2 sleeps till i MAY hear from G. Not that  I care of course. X

I don’t really feel ready to write, but it’s so damned humid, i can’t sleep, and i don’t really feel ready for sleep either.

I have very little news. I am gripped, as is the majority of our nation, by an alternating combination of world cup and good old Wimbledon.
Other than that, I had a nice stroll in Hyde Park after a day at the Serpentine, I had drinks, Prosecco in Hackney this evening, and I had takeaway curry and Notting Hill with Bi last night. All pleasantly fulfilling, but none of it really filling my time. I may go to Hummingbird tomorrow, and just buy a single cake for my own personal happiness.

I think about G a lot, but most of it is my stubborn brain avidly trying not to think about him. It’s a permanent battle. I am excited about him coming home and yet almost wish he wasn’t, so i could stay comfortably(ish) in the dark forever. I wish we hadn’t met, and i could’ve been spared all this.

Tom is home - hopefully - for the weekend, can’t wait to see him. I feel Danebury ring coming on, on top of the world, air, breathe. I just wish he was better at cuddles and hugs.

Overexcitement - i bought 3 new pairs of shoes.

Anyway. That’s all folks. X

I am sat in the bath with a heart-shaped strawberry lolly in the hope that it might lift my mood. I feel very low today, and I’m full of tears, not sure why.
I feel out of control, confused and alone. I spent my morning from 10.30 at Daisy’s eating and clearing in the sun. Budgie was there, and things were a little strange after he kissed me goodbye last night. It’s made me think a LOT and made me realise a few things.

It was a nice kiss, strange and almost expected, and i wanted it, i needed to know. At the same time it was just a nice kiss, the world didn’t light up, it didnt make my body ache with desire, instead it made me realise quite how much i like G, and quite how special the way he makes me feel is… Budgie is a nice boy though, not right for me, but he could love me, and he’d probably treat me much better than G does. So i suppose it also made me appreciate my worth again. In theory, it should help me walk away more easily as soon as i start to get walked over. I live in hope - time will tell!

I was looking at this diary, the pink diary, and how close we are to the end now. Just under 40 A5 sides. an average say of 2 sides per entry? 4 entries a week? Maybe that’s generous, anyway, approximately a month’s worth to go. I expect i’ll start my new liberty notebook around my birthday.

What will happen between now and then? Things with G will either be cemented, over or equally confused, I will either be bumming around, working my arse off or frantically trying to get a job.

Life changes so quickly. Years fly so fast. I am still so tired. It’s like my body is giving up even though I’m only in my 20s. I ache. I cant sleep enough, i can’t keep my eyes open. I am dreading driving back to London tomorrow and then embarking on another week of 9-5. The only blessing is that my working day flies by quite quickly. X

ooooh. P.S - quick update.

I chatted to Ron and Gay Matt, at length last night , about my love dilemma etc.. and this resulted in a casual comment via text about the bad play, ( England vs. Algeria ) a wish for him to have a nice time in Tenerife, and to call me when he is back. He replied today. I have to say that i am surprised. I was expecting nothing. It’s a short text, not cute really, about as casual as mine, hoping i have a nice second week at work, and a non-committal ‘see you soon. x’ at the end. If i get a postcard i will relax. I am half expecting him never to call or text me again.

I just had one of those, - I LOVE London moments.  Where it all slots together and my heart surges and  know I’m in the right place and i belong.
Walking through a well-lit Bloomsbury on a balmy, clear weekday at 10pm in June is bliss. Cabs, hotels, lights, Church bright against blue and dark clouds, old railings, new glass, feeling your feet on the pavement following the route home without a thought, just using your senses to take in all the sights and sounds. There was a man sat, relaxed on a bench, one leg up, ipod in, outside Euston station, framed in an outline of orange from a street light. It would’ve made a wonderful photo.

I was walking back from Yoyo’s you see, just dropped in to give some emotional support, catch up, eat oreos, and have some down time with her.

I think i let myself get carried away too often, and this diary encourages that. If life, and writing this for so many years have taught me anything, it’s that what will be will be, what matters will never leave you in the dark, people come and go, but you live through it all and survive. None of it really matters, you pick yourself up and on it flows. This boy is such a pin prick in the great scheme of things, and he could expand into something more, but he’ll probably be insignificant. I need to just get on with living.

Work, all good. - I must go and buy a decent pair of shoes or my feet may not survive. Also - present for Daisy - very necessary. Also - must decide what to wear, and need to find a way of keeping my brain occupied!!!! X

I should be his wet dream, a girl who likes beer and football as much as her Louboutins. Ok - i take that back, not quite. BUT i am a no nonsense, intelligent, girly, pretty young lady, with a penchant for junk food and crap telly, football and beer, all on a slighty more regular basis than your average female. It should be perfect.

I’ve never heard someone on the end of the phone sound so unenthusiastic. ‘You have a nice long bath and I’ll have a much needed early night, and i’ll just see you when i get back.’ - Yes, but that’s fucking ages. (Tenerife - 10 days) That’s two fucking weeks. And we’re on date - I’ve lost fucking count - past 12 now, and every time he kisses me, in particular today, with me a little squiffy on the doorstep, i just want to peel his clothes off, in a rapid fashion. To the point where he may have seen the crazy eyes.
And i’m really not one track minded - i reminded him of this - but didn’t disclose the evidence that if i was just after sex i might have found it more than just the once in the past year.

I don’t think i’m bunny boilering either. He’s tired, he’s busy, blah blah blah. I get it. Me too, but you make time, and i suppose he did a bit. He walked up from Oxford street and spent an hour with me in the pub having a drink in the sun, but i was under the impression that dinner/naughties were on the cards. - well actually i assumed that something like this would get in the way. And it did. It’s shit.

The frankness in me appeared in my mouth on the doorstep saying goodbye and it blurted out some irretrievable things. Such as ’ How long are you going to make me wait?!’ and something along the lines of, ‘All i want to do is take your clothes off’ - except i think remove the all and do and make the clothes off something more graphic and i expect you are nearer.

I’m starting to wonder if he is yet another with his V-plates still attached. I think not, but my wonderful mother suggested that he must be either inexperienced or be in posession of a small penis, because i quote ’ Men are just not like that, they drop their pants at any and every opportunity, there has to be something funny going on.’

ANYWAY, i will try to take my own advice. Forget it all. See what happens, see how things pan out. Try to care less, brace myself for the worst, and immerse myself in friends, work, and fun, keeping my mind and body as busy as can be.

Bugger. I hope i haven’t fucked it. I think i have, but i hope i’m wrong.

I sound like a twat, but i really deserve somebody to properly love me. I haven’t had that warm safety net of two brown arms and a chest for 2, nearly 3 years now, and this is so nearly right.

Kisses are air, touch burns with anticipation, and above all, he gives me that safe feeling, you know, the one when you’re aged 4 and you need your mummy, and then she is there, and everything is suddenly okay and the world is a world away.

I need to shut up and never actively contact him ever again. X

p.s - forgot to add. Phoned him later on as i felt the need to apologise, not even sure why, for my frisky impatience. Why do i do it?! Dig deeper? He obviously thinks i’m this desperate twat with potential to be clingy and demanding, which i am actually really not. bugger.

Just got back to London, Tats gave me a lift, I’ve been feeling horrendous, a potent mix of exhaustion, period and blocked sinuses. Seeing G this PM, because he had to cancel on Friday. My break to Hampshire was average, not BAD, just not the sun-filled peace i am craving.
I have realised something rather funny, and a little bit reflective of my general hilarity and uselessness. THOSE photos, of THAT blonde… are/were not from Paris after all, and are actually from way back, according to a message left on G’s facebook. I was in a tiz about nothing. Silly old me.

Later - PM

It’s really late, and i need to be up early, and should be asleep already really.

Seeing G has unsettled me. Perhaps i am too picky, perhaps i ask too much, perhaps i read too many happy endings. Don’t get me wrong, we had a nice time, i mean, certainly on paper - perfect really. We walked from London Bridge all along the Thames path to Westminster, via a couple of benches, sun setting, dramatic sky, what could be more romantic?

Kissing him is still heaven, still bliss. It still fires that tweak behind the belly button that makes me sigh in delight. I just. I wonder if its too physical. Sensible Mummy says that if course it is, and it has to be, because even after 11 dates, you cannot possibly know anybody at all enough for your feelings to be based on anything but body chemistry.
I worry that we have too little to say. But then i think back, and we discussed lots, and if we were quiet, well, we were both overtired, and hadn’t done enough with our days to have anything to talk about! so there.

I pleaded with him to come back here, rather than home for more revision. I kept at it, and should’ve let it drop. My mistake. Ah well, at least he knows i’m keen to give him a test drive.
Wednesday? we’ll see. I must sleep before tomorrow.

ooooh. p.s - He held me. We got on the tube together, and he held me, tucked my head on to his chest and held me safe. Bliss. X