Sunday, 10 June 2012

Gross-out Sunday

Hi guys

Sorry it's taken me until now to post. My internet connection went down on Thursday night and I was going to get somebody to sort it (because I have no idea about techie stuff. I used to ask Nick - but after last weekend we're not on speaking terms) but Erin, trying to be nice, told me she'd get her fiance to help me. Fat lot of good he was. He's supposed to be an IT specialist, but he spent ages last night faffing about with all these wires and in the end he gave up! I suppose he tried to help, but if he is supposed to be a specialist and teaching our future generation, then there's no hope for us! So, today, I had to spend nearly £100 for someone to sort it out because it's out of hours. Oh well - rant over. It seems to be working now.

Anyway, about last weekend...

As you know, my neighbour, Rosie, organised a lovely get-together in our communal garden to celebrate the Queen's Diamond Jubilee. She and her friends had done a great job decorating all the gates with bunting and setting out the tables, covering them in Union Jack flags. They had a stereo system connected up with some old songs playing and it was a great atmosphere. I'd invited Nick, but as soon as he arrived I could tell he didn't really want to be there, he had such a grumpy face. And then I remembered how I'd felt about him when he'd first come to work with me. I thought he was the most boring person ever. I'd only agreed to start going out with him again because I thought he'd get me a job in his place and he'd let his hair grow and he didn't look that old anymore - he actually looked quite cute. Anyway, for some strange reason, he turned up last Monday with his head shaved. I could see flecks of grey in it and he looked old again. I didn't want to say anything to him, at first, but the more drinks I had (followed by Rosie's notorious sherry trifle) I got a little bit tipsy and told him what I thought of him. I think it was something like, "God, you are so boring! Stop being such a miserable git and join in, will ya!"  I think his reply went something like this, "All you ever do is moan! I don't have to have a permanent smile etched on my face, you know, like some weird clown." And I'd said something like, "I don't think I've ever seen you smile. And what's with the hair! You look like a convict." I think that was when he slammed his drink down and shouted, "Don't call me!"
It was a little bit embarassing, I must admit. We haven't spoken since. I think I should apologize, but I doubt he will answer my calls. He is just so boring, though. Being with him at the party was like pulling teeth (Not an analogy I can use with Liam, though, considering he probably quite enjoys pulling teeth.)

So...after Nick had stormed off, Liam came over and sensing my distress (at being dumped in public) he came over and asked if I wanted to go to his apartment. At the time, I thought it was a great idea, because I felt I'd spoiled the party, a little. I told him that I didn't sleep with people on the first date and he said that it wasn't a date - but anyway, it was a huge mistake going into his apartment. I got to find out what a weirdo he is ( I could write an article about him).

Firstly, I noticed a smell of bleach, like a hospital smell, as soon as I walked through the door and the walls were so white it was almost clinical. All of the furniture looked like it had come straight out of an IKea catalogue and there was no dust or marks anywhere. My black TV and shelving unit has permanent dust on it that never comes off no matter how hard I clean, yet his black techno things were shining and mark-free.
He got us some wine and put coasters underneath, which every other man I'd dated didn't bother to do.
We had a good chat while we watched some coverage of the Jubilee on TV. After a while, I needed to go to the toilet. That was when things went downhill. On the wall next to the toilet was a poster entitled, "Choose your pooh" - not the most romantic thing to look at, I thought. It was gross. There were different shaped ones called different names such as grapes, corn on the cob and mashed potato. Apparently, if yours is like gravy, you have a problem. I gagged and was almost sick and then, when I went to wash my hands, I was greeted by another poster, stuck above the sink, describing the ins and outs of plaque, complete with a picture of someone's grubby teeth with bacteria on them. That's when I did have to be sick. It was just too much.

When I got back to the living room I asked him where I could get a drink of water and so I followed him into the kitchen and that, too, was clinical. His stainless steel things were actually stainless. I'd always thought stainless steel was a lie - mine are all covered in fingerprints and other gunk that just won't come off no matter what I do, yet his were all gleaming. I know he's a dentist and everything but this was all just too weird for me. After I'd drank the water, I made my excuses and left. It still gives me shivers to think that he lives in the apartment right above mine. Why can't I meet any normal guys? Maybe it's me who's too fussy. I should lower my standards - I'm not getting any younger! I could get an older guy, like Lila has. I've been calling her Sugar Baby - there was a thing on TV the other day about women who date older men - they call them Sugar Babies. Sounds quite nice, really. Doesn't make it sound pervy at all.

I'm going to Mum's later for Sunday dinner - although it's usually Sunday tea, by the time she's got it ready. I might stay overnight, because I have the day off tomorrow. I'm going to another interview. It's doing a similar job, but for a bigger paper. Fingers crossed.

Anyway, I'll go now but until next time...

Callie signing off xxx

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