summer holiday

On 12 July I was due to meet two people I had met once from gumtree at Luton Airport to catch a flight to Nimes in order to spend two weeks at a naturist resort in the South of France. So what did I do? On the night before, I went out in Camden Town. Met a man (let's call him "N (small mouth") from an internet dating site and then various friends joined us in the pub.

I proceeded to get quite drunk, got in a big argument with T, then carried on drinking. N (small mouth) lives in Camden, so after the pub chucked us out, a group of us went back to his to carry on drinking. On one hand, I knew I was pissed and had to get up early for a flight - I therefore switched to water. On the other hand, it was already gone 2am and I had been drinking for hours - not even close to sobering up.

Aforementioned friends went out to get more booze. In the meantime, N (small mouth) and I started getting-it-on on the floor of his lounge. Interupted by the buzzer (friends were back with booze), we then retired to his bedroom and fucked in a clumsy-due-to-too-much-booze sort of way. Twice.

He fell asleep (though after begging me to stay over and me refusing). I decided to SORT MY SHIT OUT. It was 6am. I was still drunk. My flight was in five hours. I caught a night bus home. It was 7am. I considered leaving for the airport right away. I decided that I could do with 45 minutes kip before heading to the airport.

Next thing I knew, I awoke to a text from friend from previous night saying she hoped I got off ok. It was 10:30. FUCK. My flight was at 11:15 from Luton and I was still in London. I rang friend in a panic. Should I get a cab and try to rush to Luton? No, there wasn't enought time. I had to cut my losses, ring the people I didn't really know in order to tell them that I was a flake and was going to miss the flight, and then book another flight for the following day. There is only one flight a day from London to Nimes and it is by RyanAir.

FuckFuckFuck. I hyperventiliated. I cried. I rang my brother. I rang my ex-husband. I rang all my friends who would listen. I rang my mother. I booked a flight (for an extra 120 squid) for the following day and then I started to sober up and get a hangover. I was depressed. I had argued with a close friend. I had missed my flight for a holiday I was looking forward to for months. I wondered whether I had a drinking problem, or some other deep seated personality disorder that caused me to act in self-destructive ways.

N(small mouth) texted to say he had fun last night and that he hoped I had a good time in France. I told him I missed my flight. He offered to buy me lunch out of guilt. I accepted and whinged the entire time.

Fast forward to two days later - I was in a naturist resort in sunny France, lounging naked in the sun, surrounding by other naked people. It was grand. Two whole weeks of being naked in France, sunny weather, swimming in the river, hiking, cheese, and reading. Life was good again.

here we go again

My annual work garden party was on Wednesday. Having not seen E for about 2 months (since we last discussed the possibility of having some some no-strings-attached-sex), I decided to invite him. He cleans up nice and makes for an entertaining date, and I thought he would like the old-time venue: Middle Temple. He said yes and was more reliable then usual.

We had a lovely time - better than most previous garden parties, partly because the weather was good, partly because of the company, and partly because I didn't get as drunk as usual. I should say that I did have in mind drinking less because of the possibility of getting laid (the first time since splitting with AJ I might add).

After the garden party ended we went along with my co-workers to our usual post-garden-party pub and carried on drinking. Then snogging. Then talking about how much we wanted to have sex with each other.

He then said a rather peculiar thing: "I'd really like to fuck you, but I should tell you first that I am in love with someone else." Well, that was a bit of a passion killer. But not for long - I got over it, because the girl he is in love with lives in Australia. Silly man. He made up for it by telling me that he had had the best sexual experience of his life with me. I then nearly ripped his shirt off in the alley way outside the pub.

We went back to mine and had slightly drunken, but rather fun in a tired/drunk sort of way, sex. We then slept, and fucked again in the morning, before he left to go home in order to get ready for work, and I got in the shower to get ready for my own job. It was very comfortable and we had a rather sweet goodbye kiss.

So now I am being warned by friends: do not let yourself get sucked in. "I won't" I say. But its hard. I have known him for about two and a half years, and I do think I am a little bit in love with him. However, in all the time we have known each other, he has eluded me. We talked a bit that night about how we would make both a great and terrible couple.

And so it goes, my unrequited love has been ever so slightly reignited. But I am doing my best to quash it before it causes any trouble. To that end, I am meeting a man from an internet dating site tomorrow afternoon. Not that I want a boyfriend...