After a long hiatus, I've found myself back in blogland, feeling compelled to write an update.
I've been doing my new job for two months, and am only just starting to find the energy to do constructive things (e.g. ironing, cooking, essential grooming...) in the evenings. Usually, I'm so wiped out from the two hour commute from work to home (on the bus, on the train, then on foot) that all I can possibly do in the evenings is collapse in front of EastEnders. But now, I'm learning to switch off and recharge during the journey, and to not get too irritated when the bus fails to turn up on time (which results in me having to catch a later train home). I'm learning to pace myself.
The job itself is fine. My colleagues are all pleasant; cups of tea and biscuits appear from time to time; the workload is generally steady and rarely overwhelming. It was a huge novelty at first not to be constantly looking for jobs, although old habits die hard, and I quickly found myself looking at job ads and considering applying for things that looked appealing. I've decided, though, that it will look far better on my CV if I stick with something for 6 months or more, so I'm going to hold on until late Summer, and then start searching again. I'll enjoy the job security I currently have in the meantime.
Man-wise, things have been very bizarre. The situation took a turn for the downright miraculous when Lovely / Flaky G got in touch a few weeks ago and invited me to come out in London with him and a couple of friends. I duly went, and inevitably ended up in his bed after a few vodka lime and sodas. It sounds soulless and slutty, but in reality it was amazing, and warm and lovely, and something it seemed we had both wanted for quite a while. We went out for lunch the following weekend, during the time it was really sunny and warm, and again, it was lovely. He's incredibly easy company, fun to talk to, and I feel like we're on the same page.
Then his flaky side came out again. His texts became sporadic and he kept saying he'd call, and then wouldn't. Obviously I was wondering what I'd done to put him off, but I couldn't think of anything. We didn't actually sleep together after the night out in London (only literally) so it can't have been that. And, really, I'm still in the dark. He rang the other evening, but I was at a rehearsal, so couldn't speak properly. He knows I'm keen, and he does text unprompted occasionally, but he's making it very difficult for me to establish whether he's just rubbish at keeping in touch, or just wants me to leave him alone!
I'm feeling a bit embarrassed about having pursued him for the last few weeks, but I didn't have him down as the sort of guy who would manipulate a girl to get into bed with him for a cheap thrill. Flaky he may be, but slutty and conniving? I certainly wouldn't have thought so.
The ball is now in my court (i.e. he was the last one to text, yesterday) which is probably the best place for it. I'm going to try and avoid getting in touch with him for a while, which will mean no alcohol over the weekend for me - drunk texting is my very unladylike downfall. Texting should be banned - it only ever results in embarrassment and / or misunderstanding.
So, in the absence of alcohol, my weekend will consist of the following: baking (I want to have another go at the Victoria Sponge which I attempted when hungover last Sunday, and was as flat as a pancake - probably because I failed to elevate the seive when I was sifting the flour. Sorry Delia.); watching Over The Rainbow and cringing; trying to spend as little money as possible. I'm saving up for a summer of weekend festivals and possibly a mini break to Budapest! Exciting.
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