Thursday 19 April 2012

Zone Of The Frienders

When you feel so tired, but you can't sleep . . . . no Chris Martin, I am not requesting your voice that is startlingly reminiscent of livestock being mutilated to "fix me", I am merely referring to my current state of condition.

Err, sorry for hurting your feelings but . . . well, you just offend
all of my senses . . . err, except 'taste'
And so, with a void of actually having a (a) a reliable job, (b) a chance to socialise and make friends, and (c) a meaningful worthwhile existence, I took a step that is cataclysmic in both how harshly I shall be judged by my friends for admitting it, and that I haven't done so already.

I downloaded all 15 Pokemon movies.


Oh yes ladies and gents; whilst I might never get to catch 'em all, I can at least watch 'em all.


And especially for Adam and Gareth, who will no doubt be storing up the abuse right now, by now you should realise that  . . .



Now, far be it from me for telling Ash Ketchum he is doing it all wrong but . . . he's doing it all wrong.  Considering it's his dream to catch all the pokemon, he does a pretty lame job.  In Pokemon 11 (which has a terrifyingly catchy them-tune) Ash encounters FOUR legendary pokemon in the first half-hour . . . but doesn't throw a single poke-ball.  Moreover, in Pokemon 12, Ash only encounters two legendary pokemon, and at seperate points they are very close to death . . . AND STILL NO POKE-BALLS!  To make it even worse, he actually carries Shaymin all the way to a pokemon centre . . . and let's it change to 'skyform' and fly away completely uncaptured.

What the fudge Ash . . . just what the fudge?
Who's with me on my poke-rant?  Anyone?  What about you over there in the background . . . no?



And onwards . . .

With the amount of time on my hands, I've had a lot to puzzle on with my puzzler, and came to a ground-breaking conclusion.  Oh yes people, lock up yo' daughers/mothers/pokemonz/anything-but-males, because I officially declare an end to the whole "Six Month Single Challenge!"


Croagunk saw this coming and is subsequently bemused.
Again!  I can hear Gareth gloating that he is "always right" - which he isn't, as he boldly stated that damp causes more damage to a house than a hurricane (which means Tim and Claire's sofa is well and truly obliterated!) - as he openly declared "bullsh*t" on it when I made my grand sweeping statement. 

But alas, let me explain . . .

Now let's go back-a-ways.  When me and Melissa were getting together, me and Claire had a heart-to-heart about how I shouldn't lump what happened with Poppy onto her, and she was right and I trusted Melissa completely and had a happy thirty-seven days . . . even if it was filled with one-way abuse (but then I'm a wee bit dysfunctional and take abuse and harsh banter as a sign of affection, and affection and niceness as a sign that something is very very wrong).  Again, you may recall my 'emo-phase' of being miserable because Melissa ended things around the time of Lyla's birthday so it all snowballed into one giant heap of misery, and in all honesty, as much as I liked Melissa, she was a metaphorical plaster over the wound Poppy made, and when she went it was like taking a plaster off and finding an infected wound.

So the six month single challenge was to get some time to myself and let things heal, or so I thought . . .

But then, in one of those bolt-up-wide-awake-at-4am moments, I had to question myself whether the reason was to sort myself out, or whether it was to leave a massive gap from March until September - with the main point of our falling out happening in August - for her to re-materialise in.  True, I maintain that I doubt she ever will, and Lyla along with her, but then again at the time I was missing Lyla terribly, so it might have been it.  I ran this by both Claire and Grace; the latter agreed with me, the former said "f*ck Poppy", which I assume means it got her blessing as well.

Anyway, with regards to the "Six Month Single Challenge" . . .

. . . because we all hear things in Duncan Bannatyne's voice.

Unfortunately however, this saw me end up on perhaps the most awkward experience of my life . . . and as I have recountered, I get into a few.

So I shall fill you in on the background to this tale of woe.  In August 2010, I had my tragus pierced by my friend, who we shall call 'Bobbins', who was an apprentice piercer at a body art studio in Derby, and needed to puncture people to pass the grade (which she didn't, and the fact my tragus got hideously infected is testament to that . . . but I digress). 

With her living in Derby, and me recently moving to Derby and yet not knowing anyone, I asked if we could meet up for a drink and a catch-up sometime, which we did.  When we met, she brought along her friend, who we will call 'Buttons', and all three of us had a merry ol' time.  Bobbins, being a kind-hearted soul, suggested that me and 'Buttons' go on a date together, which we both sort of agreed to if for no other reason than we got each others humour.

The day of this 'date' arrived, and the two of us said that we'd just go and play a bit of pool and have a few drinks, and did so we did.  There was absolutely nothing flirtatious or any sort of attraction to one another, we were just two friends playing pool.  "You're really bad at pool," Buttons exclaimed whilst sniggering.

I said something back at this point, but for the life of me I can't remember what it was, but for some reason she . . . she walked up to me with her phone out, said she had a video to show me and made me hold her phone, and pressed play.

. . . . . . . . . . it was a sex-video of her and some chap.

I can only imagine my face looked like this at the time.
I mean why? Why . . . . . . . just why?  Why would anyone do that?  She looked at my face the entire time whilst I stood there, with someone I considered a sort-of-friend, on a Saturday afternoon, in a pub, with a load of football fans, watching the person I'm on a date with having sex with someone . . . why?

And the worst part - the absolute worst part - was that she didn't turn the sound down.


. . . and this video clip went on for three minutes . . and it was clearly the man holding the phone at the time because . . . well I won't go into the logistics, but it was not great.  What sort of response was she hoping for?  "Well that look nice for the both of you . . . seems like you're having fun." 




AND-SHE-LOOKED-ME-IN-THE-EYE-FOR-THE-FULL-THREE-MINUTES

Y'know the beginning of Fight Club, where Cornelius is tied to a chair with a gun in his mouth, and he thinks to himself "how did my life come to this?" and we get a big flashback to catch up with the present situation?  Well I genuinely did this whilst I was trying to maintain a neutral expression (I imagine neutral isn't what she was hoping for, but it was the closest to 'inoffensive' I could muster at the time) and had a very dull flashback of my life; summers frog-collecting in the forests, scoring the last goal my year ever scored in P.E before we left secondary school, re-enacting scenes from The Holy Grail with Gareth in college, the first and last Lategates gig in Manchester, my many bumbles (such as moving to Derby) and then "BHAM!" - back in the pub with male genitals worryingly close to my face.

. . . . . just why?

I really genuinely wish I could remember what I retorted with when she said I was bad at pool; perhaps if the conversation went like this;



. . . but it didn't, I probably just replied with "well you have a truly dreadful haircut" or something to this effect. 


So I made my excuses - I realised I'd left my iron on (no I fobbed her off with that my mum was visiting) - went home, and did what rape victims seem to find most comforting; sitting in a shower, fully clothed, sobbing, and possibly listening to Evanescence.


A few days later, I was still very much . . .




. . . so I went to a friend, hoping for a consoling word.

Alas, I got told that I should be more liberal-minded.

More liberal-minded?!  Duuuuuude, now I am no hit with the ladies, I don't go on many dates, and I suppose I am a bit of a prude, but surely it is something so obvious, not letting your date see you having sex with someone else, that it is almost an unspoken rule, along with a thorough tooth-brushing and lotsa aftershave.

But of the three people who knew of this, I was the one with odd principles.


As a final note, I should say that this is quite likely to be my last ever blog, or at least one for some time.  The truth is that I have a great many things on my mind to worry over right now and I'm not in a particularly good place. I need to get myself sorted, but if this is indeed my last ever blog, I'd like to thank you all for reading and t he many nice comments, and I'm glad I amused you in some way.


I've been saving this picture up for ages, may as well use it.

*bows respectfully*



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