Last night I dragged the Usual Suspects to the pub.

As you do post break-up, I got myself tremendously drunk, and can barely remember anything at all, appart from the discovery of that little gem of a bar in the middle of Soho, where the smoking ban didn't apply, and cheering as we got a random to climb on top of a bus shelter.
Nothing else. Oh well...

There will be no blogging for me for a while, so Merry Christmas!

Dumped

I'm officially dumped.
Well, not exactly. But I got Mike to speak to Hihes at a Christmas party last night. Apparently, he said there was nothing wrong with me, but that he just didn't want to take things any further.
(It looks like the night I thought we could really be together, he thought I wasn't worth the bother. What a connexion!!! And I am so winning the first prize in the fools' category. Congratulations to me!)

Thanks for letting me know and not let me hang in there for almost two fucking weeks.

Mike told him the least he could have done was telling me or at least give me a call and ended the conversation by calling him a chidlish coward.
Good boy. Couldn't have said it better myself.

I'm seriously thinking of asking Mike to marry me.
We would have the perfect arrangement; we already live together and we enjoy the same things (including boys).
We could be eachother's soulmates, and still bring home whoever we'd like for sex.

And I wouldn't get so fucking hurt... Because it really hurts.

Another thing that pisses me off so much is that I know myself: It's going to be a long time before I can allow myself to get emotionally involved with anyone. Can I possibly become more cynical than I already am? What a cheerful thought...

Anyway, I'm going to take a break from it all. I'm leaving London for ten days. Five on holidays with the parents. Five visiting the family.
I can't wait... to be back. To be back, and over it all.

My mum keeps asking me on the phone how things are between OG and me. I find it very hard to explain the situation, somehow... For the time being, I'm staying as evasive as I can, but when I'm coming home on Friday, I know there will be no way to avoid the Great Maternal Inquisition. I need to work out a plausible story which makes me look respectable, and preferably -well, absolutely- not involving too much sleeping around. Hmm...

I've got until Friday, and, anyway, despite the copious amount of coffee, my brain is working way too slowly this morning to be used properly. I spent another sleepless night. Not an hour, not a minute, not even a second of sleep since Monday morning.
It's not that I had fun last night. I didn't go clubbing. I didn't attend any house party. I didn't go to the pub. I didn't even spend the night at home drinking with the usual suspects. I didn't spend the night with someone who kept me awake for good reasons either (sigh).

Insomnia. Or the great pleasures of being unable to sleep for no reason.

At 4:30, I gave up trying, and came downstairs where I watched most the DVD collection whilst playing sudoku. Pretty much until now, if you don't take in account my 7am trip to the corner shop to get another pack of cigarettes.
I live a great and exiting life.

That probably explains why I decided to give it another shot with Hihes and emailed him this morning. No, that doesn't explain anything. But I need to blame that impulsive self-destructive act of mine on something, and insomnia seems like a great excuse. Let's say that if I don't get any reply, I won't blame myself entirely, but rather blame the lack of sleep. Makes life so much simpler.

Not that it was anything too explicit either. I just asked how he was, how were the gigs going, and invited him to our New Year's Eve party. Nothing foolish. (well I did say that it would be good to see him, "whenever"...) I calculated he would read my mail either in state of great drunkenness, either with a terrible hangover, as I learnt by a common accointance that he is attending quite a big Christmas party tonight. Either option, that pretty much guarantee me a honest answer.
If there's no answer, again, well, I guess I'll know where to stand...

Dear Santa,

You know I don't like all the fuss around your appearance on the 25th, and that I'm not a big fan of the whole hypocrite presents exchange process either, but if you consider I've been good this year -then I think you need glasses the size of your sleigh, but that's not the point- and if you really insist, I could really do with with an extra helping of irony and sarcasm at this time of the year.
So far, I think it's the only thing I need.
Hoping you don't freeze to death before you can bring all this at the foot of my Xmas tree, (but seeing my luck and the London weather, it's likely you will and I'll be left wanting more, as usual...),
Yours "sincerely",
Lilith.


Ok, I know my irony level has reached tremendous heights lately, but just imagine where I'm coming from...
I'm trying as hard as I can to forget that Hihes ever existed, and this morning I woke up to find two texts messages in my inbox.
It looks like, as always, and for some mysterious karma reason, OG and French Guy decided to get back in touch with me at the same time. Is it that they're not feeling that merry either? I don't wish to know.
See for yourself...

OG: "Darling, how are you? When are you here til? Miss you!! xxx"
I answered that apparently our respective timetables clashed and that we couldn't meet before 2008.
OG: "Shit! That's no good... No sex with Lilith for another two weeks?! I can't wait that long... Will be in London until 3rd so, PLEASE, let's make sure we meet and celebrate to the altar of your wonderful body... xxxxxxx"

French Guy: "Hello you! How are you? Long time no see... (no kidding) I'm back in Paris for Xmas. Home sweet home. I really hope I'll see some of you when I'm back. Merry Xmas Angel. XXX"


At least, it's good for my ego. I guess I'm not that crap in bed after all...
Does that mean I'm about to go back to the pre-Hihes period when I was juggling with them two? Looks like it.

I happen to spend whole day in Paris this Friday, and I'm planning to swap my Christmas shopping for some "quality" time with French Guy. Why not??? I didn't have sex in more than two weeks now, and really, it doesn't help my well-being...

Merry Fuck-mas to me!

I am just starting to feel human again...

Last night was a great joke. My gay friend Andy invited us all to his sugar daddy's flat for what was supposed to be the biggest, gayest, most happening party of the year. Well, in its own way I suppose.

Stella and I were welcome downstairs by a very angry neighbour who told us to go home and get fucked somewhere else. He pretended the police was on its way, but how seriously can you take an angry English man in a white velvet dressing gown? We walked pass him, and once in the flat, it was exactly what I thought it would be:
Gay gay gay. Three fag-hags (us for two thirds), Vs eighty queens. What a waste, all those gorgeous men there, and completely uninterested, hence uninteresting.

Still, we were served drinks by two very hot models wearing only red boxers and Santa hats.
Needless to say we stuck around the bar most of the night, taking in the view. (Not the one over the Thames.)
Believe me, even if you considered yourself the most open-minded person in London, you wanted to stay away from dark corners.

At some point, I was talking to an old accointance in the corridor, when we saw three (gorgeous) men not-so-discreetly entering a room and closing the door after them but apparently they "forgot" to lock it...
Stella happened to have forgotten her cigarettes in the said room, and the nicotine call getting the best of her, she ignored my warnings and walked in.

She came out with an expression of such disgust that I had to walk her straight to the bar where we stayed for the next two hours and got hammered on the sugar daddy's expense.
Cherry on top, Sexy Santa Number 1 insisted he was straight. He even showed me a picture of his current girlfriend to prove this unbelievable fact. Ha-ha.
After he poured me the sixth Malibu and pineapple, in which you could barely guess the presence of microscopic bits of pinapple, I gave in and let him take my number, but I really hope he doesn't call. How would I explain anyone how we met?

We left the party soon after the Santas departed, mainly because things were getting too heated up to our taste, and tried to get in Pasha, which was situated conveniently close. Unfortunately, the bouncers decided we looked to drunk to get in. Great.
He was probably right, because I really don't know how and when I got home that night.
The last thing I remember is telling the bouncer he was a fool because the last time I came to that place, my friend was carrying three grams of coke on her person, and we had no trouble getting in. Woops.

Me and my big mouth... Thank God this is not my favourite club in London, I reckon it would be best not to show up at the door any time soon...

I spent the whole day in The House, dealing with the worst hungover in history, (shame on me) ordered a pizza for breakfast, and sworn off drinking for life. Again. Maybe for the tenth time of the year.

Feeling like shit all day long for too much drinking probably didn't help the not feeling-like-shit-because-I've-just-been-dumped-in-the-most-ungracious-way part. I find it really hard. But I'll get over it eventually. The question is when?
I already hate the whole Xmas period for many various reasons, mainly because there is so much tacit pressure to be happy or at least behave as such. And I just can't feel very festive right now. Meaning if I don't manage to shake Hihes off very soon, I'm just going to be the sad one in the corner, or the drunkest one in the middle. What a cheerful thought.

I'm all cheered up! It didn't seem to start that way though.

Last night, I took the last tube to South London, zone 3 (=miles away), and apparently, I was the only one in whole London who wasn't both dressed up and utterly pissed. Not the best way to make me feel a bit less lonely, if you ask...

When I finally got to the Schmoking Creek's flat, I had to wait a good half an hour freezing my ass off outside. Alas, needless to say they're not the most reliable persons I know!

At 1am, I was making my way to the bus stop, ready to brave the night buses nightmare to go home, and swearing off my friends for ever, when they eventually showed up.

I swear I could have killed someone, anyone actually, but the feeling was repressed as soon as I was handed over a joint. Thank God for that!

We stayed up talking until 5am, and it was good to finally get everything which was bothering me out of my system in the company of good friends.


I slept on the sofa, and was woken up by John, that very nice boy I used to go out with back in the day, and whose unsupected presence in the flat came as quite a nice surprise this morning.

When I said I was woken up by John, it's not entirely exact, as the first thing I saw when I opened my eyes, was another pot "staring at my face".

Except when I was in Amsterdam, I had never smoked pot before coffee, but hey, what can you do, it was there, screaming Smoke me, and moreover, it was nice to catch up with John and see I could remain friend with an ex.


Had another few, and headed to Leicester Square with Liz, mainly because conveniently situated on the Nothern line, and changing line seemed like too much of a mission at the time.

We hanged around the Fun Fair, and went to see Enchanted, which was wonderful in its extreme stupidity. Exactly what the doctor ordered!

Re-reading myself, I realise I still think that the world is a beautiful place right now, meaning I must be still stoned. How nice!

Ok, I gotta go now, apparently, I'm about to attend the biggest posh gay orgy of the year... I'll tell everything about it tomorrow!

I hate Chrismas.
For me Christmas equals an over-crowded Oxford Street, office parties where everyone wonders why they're mingling with people they spend more than enough time with at work, and a very hypocrite family gathering, which always ends with an argument over the turkey and someone leaving smashing the door.

Tonight, everyone I know in London is attending a office party of their own, and even if I could have joined, I simply don't want to.
I was also invited to join the lesbian crowd in Scala, but a night of gay clubbing isn't very appealing right now.

I was also supposed to go and see Hihes and his band playing, but that seems out of the question now.
I simply don't want to do anything else.

My phone keeps ringing, and I deeply offended the Usual Suspects, my clubbing partner in crime Stella, and all the others, by answering that I'd much rather stay on the sofa watching Pierce Brosnan in Tomorrow never dies. (Pierce Brosnan is the oldest crush I ever had as far as I can remember, and meeting him in person through work last May, was a definite way to confirm that my crush was entirely justified. Even if he had over-estimated the amount of fake tan needed, he was still absolutely-totally-gorgeous, with that great voice of his, and, cherry on top, really really tall as well!)

Anyway. I eventually gave in to my friend Liz, who was making the best offer so far tonight: A night spent at the Schmoking Creek's brand new flat. That seems to be the only thing I can think of to cheer me up. So, I'm going there. After both James Bond and my Cadbury bar are finished, that is.

Obsession

I have to stop obsessing. I'm driving myself crazy.
Each time I have more than three seconds to let my mind wander, Hihes automatically pops in.

When something funny happens, I wish I could tell him.

When I'm sat alone on the sofa, I imagine how it would feel to have him here.
Worse! When I'm chatting with a friend, any friend, I can't help but secretly wish the friend could be magically replaced by Hihes.

When I walk in a bar, I remember when he used to make his way through the crowd, firmly gripping my hand, how I would scurry behind, with a huge smile on my face, and smiling at everyone, thinking: "I'm with him!!! Can you believe it???"

When I go to bed... God... Bedtime is definitely the worst part of it all! I keep remembering what it's like to caress and play with his chest hair, how good he feels inside me, how I enjoy his attentions so much more than everyone else's, how euphoric just feeling my naked skin against his makes me feel. How happily I'd fall asleep knowing he's there, how happily I'd wake up... The list is endless.



I can't fucking stop thinking about it. And each time it makes me want to cry.
I simply can't believe it is over. And I really don't like being left down like this.
And I hate the fact that I completely lost control on that one.

My friend Brooke, who is a bit of a meditation freak, told me that the best way to deal with the "flashes" was to picture myself mentally punching him as hard as I can, each time I'm thinking about him.
The whole point being to convince myself that I don't need him to be happy.
Sounds like a good joke to me, but I'm trying anyway. Every little helps. But it makes me feel lonely.

And I want to know for sure if it's over. I talked to a common friend today and sent him on a mission. Tomorrow, he's dropping me in the conversation. Let's see how it goes.


Okay, I know, I am so coming across as a drama queen. But my feelings are hurt...

Apparently, something went wrong...

I came back in town yesterday.
Hihes.
All the time I was away, my mind was filled with him, him and me, me and him, the two of us, the two of us together, the two of us talking, the two of us kissing, the two of us in bed... The list is endless.
I could physically feel his absence, if that makes any sense.
So, before boarding, I sent him a sweet text, hoping (even if I was completely knackered and not looking my best), I would see some of him in the hours following my landing, as we had previously planned.

NOTHING. Nada. Niet. Rien. Niente.

Instead of spending the evening with him, I got myself completely trashed on mulled wine at the Notting Hill Arts Club with Stella.

The guy has gone completely AWOL.
He screened my two calls, and I can't be asked to go through another calling/screening.
This shit is so painful, especially since I really don't know what went wrong.

I wish I could get angry, upset, break something, throw the phone out the window, but I'm just feeling incredibly sad...
I don't even want to start asking myself what happened to my being invited to his gig this coming Friday, and what about meeting the f*cking parents????
Seriously, I know that behaviour of his is a little bit more than arse-holic, but I'm just here, waiting next to the phone, hoping he'll ring and will come up with a plausible explanation. This is only a nightmare, right? Yup, I know: reality denial.

And I can't help but ask myself WHY? What did I do wrong? What happened? What the f*ck is wrong with me? This is doing no good for my self-esteem.
I am totally pissed off with myself. I can sense a theme there: each time I actually admit having feelings for someone, either that person disappears, either I freak out and disappear. Great. I'm not fucked up at all.

But I'm decided not to let myself feeling like a whole lot of mammoth shit because I met a "perfect" guy who "really likes/d me".
Here is my goal. OG just came back - as quite a few texts from him, involving my perfect naked body (his words, not mine) seem to be saying- and if by Friday I haven't heard from Hihes, I'll be sending a few texts of mine involving OG's private parts and his eagerness to make me come over and over again.

I am such a bloody masochist. And I can't even start to explain how sad I am feeling...

romance?

He walked me back to the station under the rain.
Just before we got in, he grabbed me by the waist and oh-so-gently kissed me.
He tasted of Corona and Malboros, I tasted of Malibu and Camels.
It was the best of all mixts.

I was stupidly smiling to myself and everyone like I was on E, all the way on the tube back home and even gave my seat to a Japanese grandma. I spent the rest of the evening singing out loud in The House (that probably explains the crap weather today....).

Now I just want to cry. I wish I exactly new why. I wish I could relive that moment again and again.
I think I'm slowly (ok, not-so-slowly) but surely falling for him. I haven't been feeling like that for years. Maybe never...
And I'm listening to Gary Jules' Mad World way too much.

And I'm also going away for work this afternoon. Another bloody plane. And I have the worst of plane-sickness. Another five days of travelling. I'm less than enthusiastic at the prospect, but I know I'll be back next week...... I just can't wait.

Saturday

I was holding it tighly with my shaking hand, trying to adjust it in the perfect direction.
When it was over, I waited, anxious, and feeling even more nauseous.
Two minutes later, a single line appeared, and I let out a scream of joy which wouldn't have been out of place in the bedroom.
Thank God, I wasn't.

My period had come two days earlier and had vanished that same afternoon for an obscure reason, visciously reminding me of the condom accident two weeks ago.

So, that morning, decided to come to terms with that awful suspicion, I pulled myself together and went to buy that pregnancy test.

My Italian friend Martina, staying on my futon for the week, heard my screams of relief and I had to explain why I was singing Oh happy day in the kitchen.
She's no one to judge, seeing that, back in the day when we were still schoolmates, she called, begging me to go and buy her a morning after pill. It was 7am on a Saturday morning, I was on my way home from a China White night with Shakira, and was wearing nothing but heels, a skirt and a sparkling top. After getting the "you-slut" look from the Boots cashier, I made Martina buy all my drinks for a whole month...

This time, we decided to celebrate my non-pregnancy with MariJuana (her again), and spent the whole afternoon downloading music in the kitchen.

So, I completely forgot to sort out the accomodation problem I knew I was going to face after my date with Hihes that same night.
As I said, Martina was staying in my room, and couldn't possibly sleep in the living room because my "dear" (see the irony there) housemate's stupid cow of a mother was also staying over for the week-end.

And after a few drinks in Brick Lane with Hihes, I couldn't bring myself to tell him to make his own way home.
So we shared a cab back to The House... To find Martina in my room, and the mother in the kitchen, finishing the stock of wine we stashed under the fridge when we knew she was coming...
Such a good look!

I told the mother to piss off when she drunkenly asked if she could see what my date looked like, but she still made a point of stumbling in the living room to steal a glance. Do I need to precise I'm not a great fan of the woman?
But she saved the night by letting us know her passing out in the kitchen with loud snoring.
Martina got the sofa in the living room, and Hihes and I got my room!

Hihes...
I wish I wasn't such a cynical commitment-phobe. Everything is just perfect with him, but I can't help thinking that something is going to turn awfully wrong at some point.
We have the same interests and can spend hours talking about everything.
He's smart, terribly handsome, and strangely doesn't behave like a player. And he's the only guy I've been dating in a long time that I could actually proudly introduce to all my friends.
He's GREAT in bed, even if he's serioulsy impairing my sleep quota...
And incredibly sweet.

As I keep telling Stella, I simply can't believe my luck.
He's invited me to all his gigs, keeps asking me how long I'm planning to stay in the UK for (I wish I knew darling...), tells me I'm beautiful, and even invited me to spend the week-end at his parents' house.

I mean, isn't it every girl's dream to meet someone like that?
But now I've written it down, I think I know what's wrong: it's all going too fast for me.
I'm not the greatest monogamist one could come across. I still find it amazing I haven't slept with anyone else since we met.
The only time this happened, I was madly-deeply in love.
But I can't be in love with him yet, can I? And I know I'm not. We've only known eachother for what, three weeks? And I find it weird someone could sincerely like me after such a short time spent together.
I'll just try to wait to see what happens, and will try not to freak out in the mean time...