Ridiculous

One thing that I seem to be exceptionally good at is feeling sorry for myself in relation to my singledom. Yesterday, being hungover and feeling slightly sheepish at having snogged Mo (my last shag at the beginning of August). There is something that is both slightly charming and a real turn off about him - hard to put my finger on, so when he said in a crowded night club on Satutrday "I need to talk to you", dragged me away by the hand, and then kissed me, I couldn't help but kiss him back. Although there was something not very enjoyable about it. Rather than to just tell him to piss off, I walked away, found my mate T, and asked for help.

No help to be given, other than for him to state the obvious - "What do you want me to do? You did snog him back." Oops, so he was right. I escaped the night otherwise unscathed, though very drunk.

On Sunday I laid around wishing I had someone to cuddle up with. I got so desperate that I joined yet another online dating site.

Zoe Strimpel wrote in a column published today in the London Paper that one should not get too excited about a good date - there is no guarantee it is going anywhere until you get a firm commitment for a next date. Meanwhile, I find myself quite pathetically getting too excited about having exchanged two emails with someone from said online dating site.

This is starting to get ridiculous.