All The Small Things

Mood: Frustrated

Mmm. Today was... Interesting.

Dropped Nicky off to Kinda, and wandered over to see my crush. Had a chat, usual silly carry on, making fun of one another. He's telling me about some girl on a commercial who is hot, I'm telling him about that devine young farmer that they've put into the Big Brother house. "How's your boyfriend?" he asks. "Don't really know" I reply.

The semi-quasi-boyfriend thing has come to somewhat of a grinding halt. Not really sure what happened there - but it would appear that he's too busy playing with his car to bother ringing me, and I'm not interested in being ignored. So, I left it by sending him a message just saying, if you want to see me again, give me a call, if not, thats fine too. I don't want to be horrid to him, but there is nothing in me motivating me to call him and find out what he's up to, you know? It really wasn't fair of me to go out with him at all, when I'm stupidly crushing after someone else.

Anyway, I didn't tell my crush that, just that I wasn't seeing the guy anymore. His reaction to this news was to smilingly bag me, which was to be expected.

J and her girlfriend came out to have lunch with me, which was lovely. We spent some time in the park, eating our lunch. I picked up Nicky, and we played in the park for a couple of hours.

When I got home, and started cooking dinner, I had this sudden and overwhelming desire for a steak. It was just before 5, so I called my crush at work, and asked what he was up to tomorrow, if he wanted to go get a steak with me for dinner.

It sounded like he had something else on, but said he'd get back to me tomorrow. The way he said it sounded like he wasn't sure that he wanted to keep with his plans, that sort of... getting a better offer type tone. Like he was planning on pulling the pin on his plans and confirming with me tomorrow. I definitely thought that he was going to make himself available for dinner. Perhaps I misinterpreted it. Who knows. Anyway, I rang and checked with the restaurant - turns out they're closed tomorrow. So I rang my crush back, and said, the restaurants not open anyway, so don't worry about it.

He said, so what are you going to do instead?

I don't know, I said, I might go out.

Righto, well I'll give you a ring and see what you're up to tomorrow.

I'm going to be busy until the afternoon, I said.

Well, I'll call you at one minute past twelve then, won't I?

What do you say to that? I just laughed. Righto then, talk to you tomorrow.

Fin.

 

Can you see why I'm confused here?

Mood: Lurve Struck

Tomorrow is Monday. (Yes, yes, I realise that I'm not giving you new information here folks!)

However, tomorrow is a bit special, because I don't think I'm contagious anymore!! Hooray!!

So tomorrow I get to take Nicky to Kinda, and wander about the township for a couple of hours while I wait for her to finish. Sounds pretty dull really, doesn't it. But NO!

I get to see my Crush! While fully recognising how pathetic that sounds, I'm very excited that I get to see him.

He called me, on Friday morning, to see how I was. How nice is that. It was a weird conversation - they all are, lets face it.

Our conversations confuse the hell out of me most of the time, just because he's so very contradictory.

For example:

We went out to the movies a fortnight ago - it was great. We had a lovely time, we saw a fantastic film, we laughed and carried on all night.

He came to pick me up at 7.30, though the movie didn't start until 9.15. Now this was his decision - he decided which showing we would go to, and told me what time he was coming to get me. Now we live half an hour from the cinema. So even allowing fifteen minutes to buy tickets and popcorn, we still had a good hour to spare.

So he arrives at my place just before half past seven. I say "You're early!" he says "Well, I know how much grief you'd give me if I was late!"

(That's pretty true, I would pay him out if he was late.)

So I say, "We're going to be really early for the movie - what's the plan? Have you eaten? Do we need to get dinner before the movie?"

"Nah, I ate at home. Do you need dinner?"

"No, I got hungry earlier, so I had dinner. Well, we're going to have an hour to spare."

"Oh, good. Lets watch Compass."

"Compass?"

"Yeah, Compass. They've got this thing on Happiness on tonight. It'll be good."

"Righto. Though I'm not really into Compass."

He then plonked down on my couch, and we flicked over to the ABC. It wasn't Compass, it was Insight. I like Insight. (Compass is about Religious Issues, where as Insight is a discussion forum - sometimes it gets a bit fiesty. Its cool. Yes, I know I'm a nerd!)

So we sat and watched a very interesting discussion about happiness - what causes it, why people are seeking it, what it is. And we talked and laughed through the boring bits. It was quite fun really. He looked funny on my couch. He's so very tall you see, that when he sat down his knees were up quite high. He says "Why have you got such a little couch?" "I don't! You're just freakishly tall, it's built for normal sized people! I mean, look at your legs!"

"I know. I look like a praying mantis."

This made me laugh. I'm laughing now just thinking about it. It wasn't so much the comparison, as the way it was delivered. Bloody cracker.

So then we went to the movies - excellent film. On the way in, he felt it necessary to tell me that he needs to buy new underwear. "That's nice." Say's I.

He then went on to discuss the pro's and con's of Bonds vs Thorpies undies vs Haynes vs other brands and various styles of same. Also, how they wear. Bonds are less likely to get holes in them than other brands, and also hold their shape better. Thorpies undies have Thorpies name all over them, and this made him uncomfortable. People, if I have to know this stuff, damned if I'm going to be the only person who is being scarred by it.

I discovered something important that day. Discussing other peoples undergarments makes me very embarassed.

I did say to him that I really would rather not discuss his undergarments, to which he replied that I was the only person that he could share this stuff with, because he couldn't discuss it with his mates - they'd laugh at him. Seriously. Is this normal man behaviour that I just haven't seen before?

Then he wanted to know about the BoyBoarders Mate. "So what's your boyfriend like?"

"He's not my boyfriend per se. But he's nice."

"Is he a good kisser?"

"What?! None of your business!"

"Oh, C'mon, is he?"

"I'm not discussing this with you. It's none of your business."

Later in the evening...

"So would he have enjoyed that movie?"

"What does he do for a living?"

"Where does he live?"

I ask you - who needs that much information about someone elses quasi boyfriend type person. In comparison, I don't even know what his ex's name was.

So on the way home, he told me at length about his plans to go out on the town with his mates and find some girls to dance with, and probably more. He never outright said, I'm going out to get laid, but it was inferred. His mates are a bit... well, lets just say I wouldn't be mates with them. They're blokes he went to school with, but his actual school friends don't live here anymore, so these are more like blokes he used to know but not hang round with. They would think it was awesome to go out and pick up. They wouldn't have much success though, I wouldn't have thought. I've met beermats with more personality and looks, not to mention style.

We're supposed to be friends, so I didn't arc up at this, merely pointing out that perhaps he should steer clear of the girls at one particular pub, but he might have better luck at another particular pub. I said "The girls there tend to be quite pretty, and they dress nicer too."

"Yeah, they have to be hottt"

"Obviously," (Sarcasm) "But I doubt you'll get much in the way of conversation out of them." Laughing

"That's the problem. I want someone that I can talk to." Dead serious.

"Mmm. You don't know what you want!" Laughing

"So we'll have to go out one night." Dead serious.

I just looked at him for a minute, because we'd just pulled up to my house as he said this. And he was serious, proposing that we go out to a club in town to have a dance and a drink. I suppose I must have had quite a funny look on my face, he had, after all, just been telling me how he was going to go out hitting on other girls, and now I am apparently invited to accompany him on this expedition. I very nearly said that to him, but caught myself just in time.

"Righto. It'll have to be a Friday night though."

"No worries, anything that suits you."

???????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????

He called me on Friday, just to see how I was. He'd heard I was sick. That was nice of him.

 

How does one even begin to understand how the mind of a man works.

And this is my crush.

 

How on earth am I ever going to figure this man out? I guess the answer to that is that I won't. Perhaps that's what I'm after - a man that I literally CAN'T figure out, and as a result, I can spend my time mooning over him, rather than having to be really present in a relationship where I'm at risk of actually falling in love and being hurt again.

Though, truth be told, I could easily fall in love with him. I'm already falling.

He's tall. Really tall. Demands attention when walking into a room tall, but not banging head on doorframes tall. You know what I mean here ladies. He's got a fantastic build, broad shoulders, he looks like an athelete. He carries himself well too. He's poetry in motion, I can't not look at him.

He's got dark, wavy hair, that's always messy and daggy, and nearly-but-not-quite at the point of being unkempt. Very cute. I want to touch it. (I know how wrong that sounds...) I wonder if its thick and pettable? It looks it.

He has the most beautiful skin, and he's nearly always got a five o'clock shadow. He's got a strong jawline, not a chiselled face, but he has strong features. I'd like to run my fingers softly over his jawline, I wonder if it's prickly, or soft? I wonder if his skin would feel warm? I wonder what that spot just behind his ear would smell like?

He has the most amazing eyes. They're kind of a blue-y green colour, and there is nothing better than gazing into them. I love when we are talking, and you know how usually, you just kind of keep eating, or watching where you are stepping, or looking at the scenery or whatever? I like to just turn and look him in the eyes while he's talking. Suddenly, we both get very very still, and time slows down. He's talking, but his eyes are doing something else. He loses track of what he's saying, and that's ok, 'cos mostly, I'm not listening anyways.

He has a beautiful mouth, gorgeous smile, and his lips, mmm. Honestly, I spend a great deal of my time thinking about what it would be like to kiss him. I wonder if he's a good kisser? I wonder if he's gentle, or if he's one of those people who applies too much pressure, or not quite enough? I kind of think it would be weird to kiss him now - what if he was a disappointment?

I think I'd risk it! (Given the opportunity that is...)

I wonder what it would be like to hold his hand. I wonder what it would be like to have him hold me. I wonder whether he would brush my hair out of my eyes, or put his arm around my waist, or snuggle up on the couch with me. I wonder if he would be tender, treat me well. I wonder if I would feel as safe with him if we were together as I do now.

I wonder if he would take things slow with me. I wonder if he has the patience for the kind of relationship I need. I wonder if that's what he is doing by not making a move. I wonder if this is the time when we get to know one another, to build that trust. I wonder if he knows what he is doing?

 

I wonder what it would be like if he was mine.

Here's a little something that has been floated as a possible solution to the problem of custody of Nicky.

In my heart of hearts, I do not want Nicky to go to school in the town where Mr. D. and Shell live. I never wanted her to go to school there, that's one of the reasons that we moved.

I do really want her to go to school here in Sassville.

Problem is that I don't have any support here. I mean, I've got my brilliant friends, and I love them dearly, but my family isn't here. They're only half an hour away, but that might as well be a lifetime away when you're needing babysitting. Its an ordeal for them to come out here and help me, and I know that they are happy to do it, but I feel like shit having to ask them all the time.

So last night, a solution was floated.

J's girlfriend is looking to move back to town. But she needs to move into her own place. She's asked J to move in with her, but due to neither of them having actual full time employment, they can't afford to move in on their own.

So here it is. What would happen if J, her girlfriend, Nicky and I moved into a house together. The rent could be split four ways, and that would make J's share small enough so that she could afford it on her wage. Add to that some extra dough that I could throw her way for helping me get Nicky off to school and looking after her before I get home, and it would appear to work all round.

J and her girlfriend are talking it over now, and I can only hope that they decide that it would be a good move. They both love Nicky very much, and she just loves both of them.

The only real problem - that I will have to leave Sassville. The girls want to live in town.

I do not want to leave my home. I love it here. I guess sometimes we have to make shitty decisions, looking at what's best in the long term for everyone.

If I want Nicky with me, and I do, then this would appear to be one way of acheiving that.

Thoughts anyone?

Today, 21 years ago, my second little sister came into the world.

A beautiful child then, with a little button nose, sparkling blue eyes and a free and ready smile, little has changed.

Except she's a bit more tightarsey with the smiles now...

And instead of wearing pink bows, she wears an awful lot of black.

But she is now in possession of a blinking wicked sense of humour, and we all love her dearly.

J, you make us laugh, you make us laugh so hard we cry, then you make us laugh some more. You're so quick, clever, beautiful and lazy.

So incredibly lazy.

I envy you that, sometimes. You have absolutely no drive to do anything. You have a plebian job, that covers your expenses, and thats all you need. You aren't interested in getting a career, just getting to the next concert, or party, or whatever. How free you are, to be and do whatever you want.

I wish for you all the happiness in the world, the freedom to continue to do whatever it is you feel like doing at the time, and a neverending supply of angsty music and T-Shirts with faecetious logos.

Love you.

Sass.

I love my life.

I love my daughter.

I love my job.

I love my beautiful friends.

I love my family.

 

And I feel so lonely. Bereft. Alone.

 

How bitter was I feeling yesterday? Sorry for any offense anyone took. I considered deleting the entry, but hey, we all have off days. I'm not going to deny that I do by editing it.

Things that are currently SHITTING ME TO TEARS.

1. The fact that despite my will, despite my logic, despite chocolate, despite interest from other more polite, cute men; I am still infatuated with that silly boy. The tick tock one. I just can't get him off my mind. I really like him. And I don't want to. I really don't want to. It's doing my head in.

Why, oh, why, can I not just forget him.

Because I like him. I like everything about him. I like his conversation, I like spending time with him. I like his eyes, I love his smile and his daggy loud laugh. I like that he makes witty jokes. I like that he wears thongs all the time, and dresses like a bogan and still manages to look completely hot. I like that he makes me laugh. I just like everything.

I'm disgusted in myself for it, but I like him. I want him.

And although I can fool myself that my head rules the roost here in Sassland, the truth is that my heart is the real power. And it says that it wants him.

 

2. Mr. D, his new fiance and her little boy. (This is narky but honest)

The little boy is a nice kid. He is. But he calls Mr. D. DAD. Really. For God's sake. MR. D. IS NOT YOUR BLOODY DAD KID. Your mum got knocked up by some bloke who's first name she can't even remember, and the only reason you exist is cos she was in freaking denial about being pregnant.

I'm sorry that you don't have a Dad. I am. I think thats a shithouse thing to do to a kid, but at the same time, Mr. D. is NOT YOUR DAD.

He IS on the other hand NICKY'S DAD. Why should she have to share her Dad with you just because your mum was too ignorant to use birth control? Or get the surname of the bloke she was screwing??

The fact that they've been shacked up for the last 2 months does not make him your Dad. He will never be your Dad. He will perhaps be your STEP-DAD one day. That is all.

You are not Nicky's older brother. You are not her brother at all. You are not likely to become her brother until after they get married, IF Mr. D. adopts you. But, Ok, once they're married, you will be her STEP-BROTHER.

And only that if your mother puts that fricking engagement ring on HER RING FINGER, instead of wearing it on the wrong finger. How INSULTING is it to wear it on the wrong finger?

Oh, and by the way, Mr. D, Shell... You aren't a frigging family. You've been dating for 12 weeks, your engaged and you're buying a house. Hooray for you, you're in love. Great. NO, really, great. But it doesn't mean that:

• Mr. D. has travelled back in time and redistributed his sperm.
• Nicky suddenly has a new brother.
• You can say "Our Family".

 

3. I'm sick. I've got frigging CHICKEN POX. Seriously. Yes, I know that its something that small children get. Its ITCHY.

I'm being driven insane by the itching.

Perhaps that's why I'm in such a foul mood tonight. I'm full of nastiness, and I just feel pissed off at the world. I'm contagious. Shit I'm itchy.

 

Really, I think I'm just peeved with Mr. D. et al because he's got bloody everything. I had a bit of a rant tonight at Mum and Dads, and Dad just turned around and gave me a hug. That did me in, I started bawling.

I shouldn't care that the kid calls Mr. D. Dad. It's not his fault, he's just a kid. A kid without a Dad.

I'm just jealous. They have each other, they have Nicky more than I do, they don't work as much as I do but they're getting ahead so much quicker. And they don't have bloody "Spots" as Nicky's calling it.

Mr. D. actually asked if perhaps it was fleas.

For F*cks Sake. Fleas? I've never even had a pet that had fleas. I've got frigging chicken pox. But please, I have a pathetic love life, where the guy that I'm seeing is nothing like the guy that I'm secretly in lust with, I have a job that pays me sweet FA, and I'm sick.

Feel free to kick me while I'm lying here Mr. D. After all, why should that be hard for you, when everything else is so bloody easy?

 

Life is not fucking fair.

 

And I am a cranky bitter itchy bitch tonight.

 

Enough.

Last night, out of the blue, I got a phone call from a friend of mine who lives in Melbourne. She was visiting for a little while, and wanted to catch up for coffee.

So we met at the coffee shop, and she bought her lovely fiance with her. It got me to thinking about a couple of things.

One: How awesome is it when your friends have partners / boyfriends / fiances / husband types who just fit in, and are happy to catch up with you too. I love that!

I remember when we were all a tad younger, and we could go for months stealing time together as mates, because one hated the others boyfriend, or the boyfriends hated each other, or their girlfriends other friends. That really sucked.

We've probably all been guilty of it at one time or another, but how fantastic is it when you can all get along, and its just a bunch of friends going out together. I love you guys.

 

We also discussed briefly the concept of being "good enough". We so often judge other peoples relationships, or our own, on this idea that we hold a certain degree of value, and that those around us hold a distinct value also, and that somehow, those values should be equal to one another for a relationship to be completely valid.

For example: We have a friend who behaves like a fool in his relationship. His erstwhile girlfriend is a lovely girl. Consensus is that he "isn't good enough for her" and that she can "do better".

What on earth do we mean by that? Obviously she deserves to be treated better, but does that mean that there are people out there who are better people than our friend?

I know that Almost would be horrified with the guy I am sort-of-seeing. Realistically, he's not "good enough". That isn't to say that he's a less than fantastic guy, he just isn't the guy for me.

But who am I to say that another person isn't good enough? How can we assign a value on a scale that reads

not good enough____________good enough______________too good

I just have trouble with that. It's more an issue of suitability, isn't it, not value. Perhaps it is just symantics. I can be a bit anal about language sometimes.

All I know is that I'm not that comfortable saying that someone isn't good enough for another person. I don't think that one person holds a higher intrinsic value than another. There are people who are well suited, and those who are not. So that's how I'm going to call it.

I would hate for someone to say about me, "She isn't good enough for him".

Not that that would happen, because lets face it, I live in Sassville, and the chances of me finding an equal here are slim, let alone a "better".

Ho Hum.

 

Happy Easter by the way.

I went out last night.

Into town with one of my beautiful girlfriends, and I had the most amazing time.

She made me dance, in this completely bogan pub, when there was no-one else dancing. I don't usually dance unless the complete dancefloor is packed and no-one can see me 'cos its so crowded and dark. But she made me, and it was the most amazing thing - I had to just get over myself.

The guy I'm sort-of-seeing's sister was there - I don't really know what to do about that whole thing.

He's lovely, and a gentleman, but he's young. Really young. I don't know. I've discussed it with a couple of my friends, and the general consensus is that his age shouldn't be a problem. And it shouldn't - after all, it's just a state of mind. I'm always horrified when people judge me based on age.

It's not even necessarily the number though - it's more that he's not at the same stage as I am. He's not immature, but he's not really mature either. He's a tweenie.

Take this weekend for example. He has spent the last two days working on his car, so that he can take it away to the Easternats, and race it. When we are together we talk mainly about cars, or his flatmates relationship woes. It's not very good.

What I'm really looking for is a soul connection, with someone who is intelligent and articulate, challenging, bright, funny and witty. Someone who can keep up with me and hold his own. And I can't really say that he is those things. He's not dumb, but he isn't interested in the same things that I am, and we have very little in common. Except that we like each other. Inexplicable really.

I feel like such a fool. He's a lovely guy - I enjoy his company, but I don't really feel that butterfly-tingle-urge-to-see-him feeling. He doesn't really make me feel wanted. That's such an important thing to do I think, to make the person that you are with feel wanted. I just don't get that from him.

It's not fair of me to be sort-of-seeing someone that I'm really not that interested in, I don't think that it is the right thing to do.

I think I'll tell him that I can't see him anymore.

Because frankly, I'd rather be alone with integrity.

I think there are three types of gentlemen. (Gentlemen - Not Men)

Type One: Those men who are gentlemen because they are trying to get something from you.

These men can also be gentlemen because they are driven by their own egos to be so. Men who's self image depends on their ability to charm with their chivalry. They want you to think that they are gentlemen and swoon at their feet. They see themselves as shiny, shiny knights trotting about on noble steeds, highborn ladies tossing them favours.

On the whole, these types are bastards. They put on the tin suit, play the game, but they aren't gentlemen on the inside. Really, they are self absorbed fools who's image is much more important to them than their lady companions health, safety or general wellbeing. That they are playing the game becomes obvious when you are on your own with them. They fail to absorb simple information; for example "I really feel the cold" and persist in driving about with their windows down in the winter. This tactic is not at all gentlemanly (in that the lady in question is frozen solid) however, it does allow the adoring villagers to marvel at the shiny armour and carriage of the false knight.

What these men are trying to get from women varies. It could be dates, sexual favours, or more probably, validation. These men need to have a syncophants willing to pander to their ego's and meet their every need, while proclaiming their gentlemanly qualities to all and sundry.

Unfortunately, as good men get harder to find, this cohort appear to be on the rise.

Type Two: Those men who are gentlemen because they have been taught to be so. Most usually trained by ex's or overbearing mothers.

You can pick this sort, as their training abandons them when they are drunk, stressed, among mates, you are alone with them, or they are just in a bad mood.

On the whole, these men are not so bad. They are suitable dinner companions, not usually the sort who would embarass you in public. However, beware the party scene with this type. It is possible for you to contribute to the betterment of society by creating your own Type Two Gentleman. Take note of the malleable Non-Gentleman sitting beside you on the bus, beside you at the office. Perhaps he is your son, perhaps your brother. Whoever this raw lump of man is, mould him into the type of man we'd all like him to be. For the love of God. Mould him.

There isn't really much to say about the Type Two Gentleman. He's pretty average, the Toyota Camry of the man world as it were. On the bright side, he's generally pretty reliable. He's not embarrassing to be seen with in public, and he gets you from A to B. But he's not really going to impress. His style is not overly showy, like Type One, he's not a complete natural like Type Three, he's just kinda clunky.

Type Three: The Innate Gentleman.

There are those men who are gentlemen sometimes despite their upbringing. Who despite having no role model in their life to show them how to treat a lady, know anyway. Other times, they come from a stable, middle or upperclass background, yet still have the ability and grace to make any woman feel like a lady.

These are the gentlemen who open doors, carry heavy things for you, don't swear and walk on the curb side, without ever thinking about it. Even if it is 4am and they have imbibed more alcohol than a Rugby team after a big win, they will treat you like a lady.

These gentlemen are a rare and precious find indeed. You will have no problem recognising this sort, as they will be surrounded by good people from all walks of life. These gentlemen will not descriminate in order to create an image, they will not surround themselves with egomaniacs, instead, only the honest, those with integrity and character will be in the permanent circle of a Type Three. They tend to have a strong code of conduct, and are fiercely loyal.

 

I would say that most of the men I know fit into one of those three catagories. The fella I'm seeing now is a number three, and there are a couple of other three's around here.

But mostly the boys around Sassville are number ones and twos.

With all that that implies.

;-)

About tomorrow.

This getting together thing.

With the Boy Boarders current housemate.

However, I do have a very cute outfit picked out.

I think its probably excited.

Mood: Amused

I went to buy petrol today and when I went in to pay, the man behind the counter was really odd.

Firstly, he read my name off my ATM card, and called me by my first name while serving me. That's actually a reasonable thing to do, small servo, friendly service brings back customers. No worries.

Then, as I was putting my card away, he saw the diamond ring that I wear on the middle finger of my left hand. "Why are you wearing your ring on the wrong finger?"

Well, he'd rightly assumed that the ring was an engagement ring, and very observant, not on my wedding ring finger.

"Because he changed his mind."

"Oh."

Yup. Guess there isn't really much more to be said about that. He was obviously embarassed that he had asked, but really, what other reason is there to wear your ring on the wrong finger??

 

 

In other news: I had a completely surreal Friday night. I went out with Stace, and we headed into town, and it was a really interesting night.

Met the guy the Boy Boarder is currently living with. Talk about cute. Didn't talk to him much though, as I was deep in conversation with another guy. The other guy was lovely, and at the end of the night he asked for my number.

I said no. If you want to find me you will.

Men are so incredibly strange. He seemed very pleased with that as an answer, and off he went. Like a Knight to the crusades.

By the next day, he had not only tracked me down to my workplace (which wouldn't have been hard for him) but he had also found my home number. We are going out on Wednesday night, to his brothers girlfriends birthday. I'm interested in getting to know him a little better, but there isn't any spark there on my side. I hope that he can settle his behaviour down to a point where we can be friends, otherwise I won't be interested in seeing him again.

However, interestingly, the Boy Boarders mate also got hold of my phone number (the Boy Boarder provided it to him) and got in contact the next morning. I know its probably one of those strange woman things, but I'm really excited  that someone who barely met me went to some lengths to contact me, say explicitly that they found me attractive and want to know me better. He asked if we could get together, so we are going out on Tuesday night.

I am somewhat more interested in the Boy Boarders mate, who, during the couple of moments that we spent talking to one another, struck me as being very funny and quite switched on. He's been txting me, and he spells correctly and doesn't abbreviate. Please see previous post as to why this got me smiling.

It's all happening here in Sassville. Which just goes to show that it is true what "they" say. I went out expecting to have a lovely night with Stace, and look what goes on!