I am fine.
So howdy peoples... how have you been? You are looking lovely. Things in my little part of the world are going just find and dandy. Thanks for asking. No. Really. They are fine.
I sent a text message to a friend for their birthday (this is how truly lazy we have become - a text message is about the effort that we can pull out for a friend - 25 cents worth according to my last phone bill).... anyway..... and they responded with a thanks, and some concern over the tone of my last couple of blog entries. Hmmmm. I was actually feeling pretty good, comparatively, and yet I still elicit concern.
But no matter. All is good. Contact with fuckwit, ahem, I mean Bond, no hold on, I mean fuckwit, has been minimal. Shocked and amazed I am sure many of you are. But true story, minimal. Maybe five sms's a week - at most - and certainly no phone calls. A far cry from 20 a day and the rest. So yay for me I say. On occasion I still think of him with some fondness, and then I remember about the crap that he has said and amazingly, I can push thoughts of him aside again for a while.
I have met a reader recently - Mr Subtle. This is the third reader I have met through this blog (Occ and Kiki precede him), and it is always amazing meeting people who know so much about your life by what I have chosen to share on here. When people can quote back to you things that you have written, for example, asking what I should be called after my entry all about my name - it gets sort of surreal. A delightful evening ensued where I gave him shit and he teased and berated me. Although the clincher of the evening for me, was when discussing Bond, Mr Subtle declared, "I am amazed that you are still so sane". It seems he has been reading this little blog for about two years. He is now to be considered my friendly neighbourhood stalker!
Recently I spent an evening with some women at what is colloquially called "Stitch and Bitch". As has become a habit, one which I am determined to break, these women gather round and dig for details of my current sad dating life. They chortle at my expense, and muse over the state of modern dating dilemmas. All too readily have I offered stories of incompetent dating agencies, ludicrous men and quirky happenings. Once again after relating a story on the (seeming) hopelessness of my dating life, one lovely woman turned to me, and gently patted my hand. She sighed and said, "Well, maybe there just isn't anyone for you." Through gritted teeth I responded,, "I'd like to think that there is."
Now how good am I? I honestly felt like saying "WHAT THE FUCK???????". But, no, I remained calm and contemplative. And vowed from then on that maybe I wouldn't tell stories anymore. To her anyway. You lovelies get all my stories.
Oh, and there is a cute ranga in my Russian class. Woof!