Contemplating a sexy wet wig

Hey you Like my title? I'm impressed that I went to my lectures today
considering I'm still pissed, feeling very green and hugely embarrassed
and I want to crawl under a bridge and live like a troll for the rest
of my 20s But anyway last night (and a bit before that... background
stuff) (Deep breath) Basically, I got back to London for my second year
of uni determined that I was gonna be sensible, mature, responsible and
get a first. Never spend any money, stop fantasising about a certain 18
year old of my acquaintance and generally be a fine upstanding member
of the student community. Ooops Went to the lectures. Check Organised
my files. Check Sorted my room. Check Applied for jobs. Check. Spent no
money...... er - Stopped thinking about sex and Michael in the same
universe - bugger It's INTOLOERABLE!!! I was pissing MYSELF off never
mind anyone else (not that anyone knew.... then) I decided to get over
it on Monday. Decided he was wildly interested in me on Tuesday.
Realised I didn't have a hope Wednesday. (mainly cause Pat decided that
she's bored with Mark and wants... something) and had all this
crushingly confirmed on Thursday night. Bollocks. He's so horny it's
not fair! So.... to Thursday. Bought a pair of flashy shoes to get me
in the mood. Agonised over what to wear and ended up wearing a short
skirt with knee length boots (that I can hardly do up anymore it's
disgusting, I'm getting so fat) got Pat to do my hair, wore makeup,
(yes even the foundation you gave me) jewellery... the works. I looked
HOT! Had a great afternoon forcing Michael to watch Dirty Dancing. Me,
Michael, Pat and Sue all watched it. I was in top form being very witty
and sarcastic and making everybody laugh (I love that you know - well
you knew that, it's a confidence thing) Got dressed up, drank white
wine (WHICH I KNOW I CAN'T HANDLE) got pissed and TOLD Pat that I
really like Michael. Mistake number one. Mistake number two was
actually listening to her advice. Basically she was very apologetic,
saying she had no idea I liked him and that she would back off except,
oops, they'd snogged on today night (ouch......go back and look at my
weekly summary above and you'll see I mean OUCH!) She told me to go for
it. That I don't talk to him enough, I have to flirt, be tactile and
clingy (okay I'm paraphrasing but that's how I read it.....Can YA SEE
where this is going yet??) She then proceeded to rush away so that I
could do this except, oh yeah, we're in the middle of SOHO and it's
about as safe as a lit cigarette in a lung cancer ward (though
admittedly not as funny). First thing I did was send Michael after her
for Christ's sake... great plan Pat...yeah. Anyhow. I tried. I really
did. But looking back I must have seemed like a TWAT. I spent the whole
night constantly following, touching and generally annoying him. Which
AT THE TIME seemed like I was making progress...... he seemed to stay
with me more than Pat.....unfortunately I now think that that's because
I was a liability...(he doesn't get drunk and babysits everyone, in a
non patronising way, god he's lovely - did I mention that I'm still
pissed?) WORST IS NOT OVER but I wanna hear your thoughts so far....
Okay I'm waiting. Stop reading this and email me back woman. Damnit
Maxi......... Part Two - the worst is yet to come Okay. So there I was
happily dancing looking like a cross between a she - witch and a
teaspoon (don't ask me why I just like the imagery) when Pat and Sue
start snogging (er as a joke apparently) HOW DO I COMPETE WITH THAT?
Michael buggers off to watch; I get pissed off; go and buy some tequila
(oh yeah that was a brilliant idea by the way) and when I come back Pat
and Michael have gone home, leaving me with Sue (and
Chris-the-insensitive-sleazy-unreliable-exflatmate-that-you-fancied)
Sue and I down two tequilas each in succession (I bought 4, for some
reason probably best that I don't remember) and go back to dancing only
now I think to myself ?. "Okay I'm gonna pull. I'm fucked off and I'm
gonna pull tonight no matter what" (didn't by the way, could have,
nearly did but didn't THANK GOD) No that isn't the great emergency I
haven't shagged???. anyone????unfortunately. Soooooooo. To my rapidly
frying brain it seems a brilliant idea to dance with the only guy there
that I would never, under any circumstances, not even when hell froze
over and cracked like the bad dude in Terminator Two, would EVER snog
LET ALONE anything else because I have TASTE, and standards and things
like that. I.e.
Chris-the-insensitive-sleazy-unreliable-exflatmate-that-you-fancied Big
mistake. Huge. I have to go shopping now. A la pretty woman. God I
don't want to continue. It's too hard and I'm gonna need therapy. Wait.
This IS Therapy. Okay to continue this story to its humiliating
fruitition. I DIDN'T SNOG CHRIS. I just want to clarify this point. I
did, however, flirt with, come onto, kiss the neck of (twice) and
generally act like a complete slut with the WORST man alive. Okay? I'm
blocking it out now. Blocking what out? Good it's worked. Now. The
reason that I didn't snog the worst man in the world last night is not
because I suddenly had an epiphany and realised I was making a terrific
error, no no no it's because and only because, it was 3am and the
lights came on and the moment (THANK CHRIST) was broken. Gone now, lost
forever into the ether of experience and (please please Allah, Buddha
and anyone else who might be listening, PLEASE) NEVER to return. Okay.
I suddenly wake up (metaphorically speaking) grab Pat's coat (and Pat)
and leg it out of there as fast as I can. Hop into a taxi, in which Pat
promptly throws up and passes out. I'm fucked, can barely see, am
battling nausea as overpowering as a tsunami wave and trying to
remember where the FUCK I live. While at the same time placate the
cabby that, yes I will pay for the cleaning and no, Pat will not do it
again (she does by the way) The whole miserable taxi riding experience
costs me ninety quid ?. FUCK We get to the house (finally) I pay the
driver his extortion money (hard earned by the sweat of my student
loan) gather up Pat, Pat's bag, Pat's shoes, Pat's phone and drag all
of these things out of the taxi. Pat falls down. WITH HER HEAD ON THE
ROAD. HER NECK ON THE CURB INBETWEEN THE TWO WHEELS AND THE BASTARD
STARTS TO DRIVE OFF. Jesus I was scared. I screamed at her to get up,
him to stop, ripped her away ?..Not an easy task as she's got a good
eight inches on me, and I'm paralytic. Help her crawl into the house
where she promptly collapses on the floor (we live two flights up) the
boys? Tom and a mate of his try and get her upstairs, and she puking
and crying?. I run up bang on Pat's door for Michael (who was sleeping
there?. Mmm a clue?) to help and then collapse sobbing on the floor
where I stay for the rest of the night (say 5 hours) except for the
occasional tantrum or bout of throwing up as I finally gave into the
crushing nausea. Basically I looked as sexy as a tramp only without a
tramp's standards of personal hygiene. I even went to sleep on the
floor of the toilet (quite a neat trick actually - you'll understand
when you see it) and told Michael to fuck off when he tried to help me
to bed. Pat spent the night running back between me and Sue (when I
wasn't accusing her of being a selfish bitch for leaving us there) and
Michael stayed with Sue all night cause they were afraid she'd choke on
sick in her sleep.
Sooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
That's all folks What's the verdict? Is it time for extensive cosmetic
surgery and a new passport? I need the harsh honest truth first and
then sympathy and best friend stuff after okay? Love ya