Monday 9 March 2015

I'm sat here

Playing Candy Crush AGAIN. I'm stuck on Level 20 something and have been for the past few weeks. I can't get past it and I probably need one of my little cousins to do it for me. I'm 30. 

I have hairy legs, but not through some ridiculous feminist statement involving Dickies boots and poetry but because I'm single so I can. ("Am gettin them waxed so av ad to let the hair grow" is what I say to unexpected lovers wanting to suddenly thrust themselves upon me. But let's be honest, I'm a born again virgin and the only action my bed sees is the Jubilee Line going past every couple of minutes.) I am sat in my Hello Kitty dressing gown whilst looking for a new place in Zone 3 East London to live as I finally realised my studio flat in Bethnal Green is just a pipe dream. How sad is that? For the price of my dingy room in Stratford, East London, I could get an apartment on The Pier Head in Liverpool.

I have to move into a house. Let's be honest, if I did cop off my room has the romance of a brothel on a corpy estate in Margate. How could I have mad passionate sex with him next door watching The Big Bang Theory? Well I did. Once. It felt like I was babysitting and I had my bf round; looking awkwardly at each other when he came bumbling out onto the balcony to me post coitus harping on about the cleaning to me whilst I was in just a thong and tshirt. I haven't tried to achieve anything so hard in all my life. But somehow we both got there. We even managed a second go. Do you know, sometimes I manage to get laid four maybe five times a year? Now I'm just showing off.

But it scarred me. Since then I've tried to date fellas who own a big room with thick walls, preferably in the East end, on the Central/District line. Jubilee and Overground at a push. I'll go as far as zone 4 for the right man. 



Do you know what doesn't work on a woman? Staring at her on the tube with the look of a serial killer. Nor does staring at her stood up, while you're sat down, not offering her your seat, but smiling, and trying to pull off a smooth facial expression. And failing. Nor does taking the piss out of her accent. 

Saying that, I'm now watching Holby City in me rollers, so I suppose beggars can't be choosers.

Xoxoxox