Now what?

Things are less than sterling for me at the moment and I can't decide where self-fulfilling prophecy of failure ends, and just the crap of the universe begins. The difficulty I have is that when I am feeling a little down about things, I can never work out if it is just a crappy day, or whether a return of something more sinister. Depression is a curious thing, that seems to hang over my head, even when I am feeling good. There is that fear of its return. Any feelings of inadequacy, malaise and melancholia that last for more than a day, spark a fear in me that I might be sinking into the dark place again.

Either way, this current bout sounds a lot self-centred!

So what is the latest thing to have tipped the scales? Well, last night I was offered a threesome from a boy I have a crush on. Which rather than being flattered, just got me pissed off.

And then I burnt my lip on some really hot soup.

Fuck.

Well everyone has a hobby!

I have never been known for my discretion. Least of all with details about much of my life. I prefer to call it honesty. Perhaps even a willingness to share. But more often than not, it is called "over-sharing". There are those who have found it problematic, but I consider part of who I am. Without which, I would, doubtless, be a little more mysterious, but perhaps a little duller.

This said, there are some things that even I have kept close to the chest. Some facets of my life and history which remain unspoken. Some things are painful. Some are things best forgotten. But others are just simply not the sort of thing that people generally admit to, or discuss in polite company.

So the other night I was at dinner with some of my friends from my "Book Club". We were discussing how your exposure to people and cultures will obviously broaden one's experience and understanding. For example, I mentioned that many years ago I was completely clueless about the part that "Dental Dams" had to play in sex. Not being lesbian, it had never occurred to me that such a thing would be required or warranted. But lack of exposure to lesbian sex, and at the very least, to lesbians who wanted to discuss in graphic detail their sexual encounters, obviously meant that I was somewhat under-informed in this regard.

So cutting back to the dinner conversation, one woman mentioned something she had recently been reading and it mentioned a few terms that she was unfamiliar with. One phrase that had her confused was "The Money Shot", at which point I quickly was able to provide her with an explanation. I realised at the end of my succinct exegesis, that I observed more than one dinner companion looking at me curiously.

It appears that I may have let slip something about my other "interests".

Oh for Fuck's sake.....

So maybe some of you are wondering what happened with Fletch.

Well I confronted him online and said I didn't want to meet someone who uses such a cheesy photo as his own. Then I put up a warning in the "Women's Only" Messageboard section of the date site - so other women could be fore-armed with some knowledge. He got online via MSN, and then started saying that he had spoken to some "guys" about me..... and knew about my "weight problem" and my "drinking issues". He said he was prepared to overlook the "weight thing" since he liked "cuddly" women - oh gee - thanks for the display of generosity.

I shall have to remember him in my will - if the crane drivers can find it under my HUGE ass when they remove me via a hole in the roof.

I maybe slow on occasion... but come on!

I was recently approached by a gentleman online about meeting for a coffee. We made arrangements for a location and time, but something bothered me. I suppose alarm bells always ring for me when the request for a meeting comes too soon. It is off-putting when the invitation is so quick that is smacks of desperation. This fellows profile seemed generic in his suitability, but still there was something that made my sensors go into overdrive.

His photo.

His photo was very attractive. Very suave and sophisticated. But something about it seemed just so familiar. So I went with my gut instinct and cancelled the planned meeting and put my mind to a little research.

It was then that I found his photo online in another location. Not in another on-line dating site. Not in some scandalous porn site. No, I found it in the "Fletcher Jones" catalogue. I thought that fake photos were purely the domain of an episode of "Friends".

Always knew my life was a soap opera - just thought it was a little more "Bold and the Beautiful" rather than "Everybody Loves Raymond".

"It's not you, it's me....actually, no it is you."

As no surprise to anyone, save Santiago himself, I tried to break it off with him the other night. Without precisely saying that I didn't really want to see him anymore, or that he really doesn't seem to have much about his person that makes me want to see him more, I tried to give him the "impression" that our romance, as it was, had waned in my mind. He had always said that he wasn't really looking for a relationship, and that he should "let me go and find someone who will give me what I want". So having that already said, I was hoping to use his own "out" clause for my devices. Being told all this, seemed to come as a shock to him. I think he liked the idea of dating someone without the pressure of actually progressing it any further. So, I told him, that I was "keeping my options open" and "still looking". I think if someone told me that, I would politely walk away - but apparently Santiago is made of sterner stuff.

I realised one thing when trying to prepare for "the talk". I don't think I have ever really dumped a boyfriend. I remember telling a boy in Grade 12 that I didn't really see anything working with him - but our "relationship" had consisted of a couple of sweaty gropes and a few phone calls. The memory of the break-up is still with me. I think I found it incredibly confronting when he began begging to be allowed to continue seeing me, and then when the tears fell, I knew that this was much harder than I had certainly ever imagined.

The ex, N, and I came to more of an agreement about splitting - although I think it may have been prompted by him overhearing a phone conversation I had. It can't have been good for him to hear how unhappy I was. Mutley tried to break up with me, but I was in such a state post-separation that I was not prepared to be dumped again. I believe I did some begging of my own, so that I could then "dissolve" our quasi-relationship approximately a week later.

So why do I have such difficulty calling an end to something that is not really giving me any joy? Appears I am just gutless I reckon.

One girlfriend makes breaking up with a partner easy. She waits until she has found someone else, and then lets the old boy walk in on her in bed with the new fellow. Harsh, but at least there is no mistake about what is going on.