Friday, March 07, 2008

Lost Connections

I feel like I’ve lost a body part; the Internet has been down at my house for nearly a week. And it’s still not back. Consequently, without any access to the vast information superhighway, it’s fair to say that this hypothetical body part is located somewhere between my thighs and never did anything much anyway.

I am now in an Internet cafe feeling awkward.

Cold Turkey

I’m vaguely disgusted at how addicted I must be to being online. Without the net at home I’m watching more TV. Large Northern Flatmate and I are actually having conversations. I potter around aimlessly.
And I’ve just woken up and switched on my computer, but all I could think of doing was playing Freecell, like it was 1988 again.

This lack of Internet is particularly irritating considering I’ve bitten the desperate bullet and joined a popular online dating service. It seemed like a good idea at the time, particularly when a girl I’d ‘favourited’, a preposterously stunning and woefully out of my league Thai girl, returned the favour and favourited me right back. In a pique of excitement, I immediately fumbled for my credit card and officially signed up, firing off a further four messages at a slew of lovelorn and equally attractive women now that I had been afforded the power of communication.

Then I realised the Thai girl hadn’t favourited me at all - I had been looking at my own favourites the whole time. In fact, this girl hadn’t even been on the site since November. She did reappear to read my message though and didn't bother replying, although this merely reintroduced me to that curious 21st Century phenomena; rejection from the comfort of your own home.

I am in touch with someone else quite cute though, someone who probably thinks I’m ignoring her thanks to my zero web connection, and who handily lives about 200 miles away. I’ve also had another response from someone equally cute, although in three days I’ve yet to read her email. I blame work – I’m based in a tiny, all-male office with my back to the rest of the room and my monitor in full view of anyone who cares to look at it – which is everyone, including cuntstomers.

So I haven’t replied yet.

Fat Bastard

I’m reaching crunch time with everything else. I haven’t cycled to work in two weeks, and my new second gym is currently going unused. All of which is making me feel really great. Not cycling in is also introducing me to the perils of a quick beer in the evening, which is particularly annoying as I tend to cram in what I can in those pitiful last hours of the working day, chainsmoking and talking crap.

On Wednesday night, I found myself in a pub confronted by a guy I used to work with who I hadn’t seen in years. We fell out and hadn’t spoken since, and there was something faintly disturbing about saying hello; two people who greeted each other politely whilst holding back from calling each other a wanker. It was particularly galling as, despite this guy and, erm, this guy too, I don’t fall out with anyone.
Honestly.

My problem with Gerald* (not his real name, obviously), was his propensity to laugh at my misfortunes. Now this isn’t ordinarily a problem. After all, I like making people laugh and I tend to make myself the butt of all jokes, so I'm used to a fair amount of abuse. But Gerald laughed a bit too hard, every day, for months on end, calling me an idiot in between guffaws.
And a twat.
And a fucking moron.
And more and more frequently, he would do so among a large crowd of our peers.

Then, like a pair of fiercely competitive teenage girls, our weight became an issue. Gerald was no stranger to pies, but would offload some of those negative feelings about himself by reminding me that I was looking like an elephant. When I’d returned from a backpacking stint in India several stones lighter and found myself back in London playing ‘throw the yellow plastic disc’ with my shirt off, I noticed him staring at my newfound manly physique with a very visible look of dismay and regret. When he noticed a few months later that I’d Pringled myself back into a fat suit, it was like all his birthdays and several childhood Christmases had all come at once.

I know because he gleefully told me that I’d become a fat cunt again.

So I stopped talking to him altogether. I’d tired of Gerald’s insistence to be regaled by another of my hard-luck stories just so he could feel a little better about himself. I no longer had to tell him every detail of my non-existent love life so he could laugh himself a new head, and I was informed much later that while he used to probe me about my private life constantly, the little tinker had been keeping his own one very private indeed, effectively bullying one of our female friends into a shag which I’m pretty sure his then-girlfriend and now-wife doesn’t know a thing about.

But seeing him again gave me pause for thought. Behind his half-hearted hello lay a crooked smile, the knowledge – I thought as he looked me up and down – that Thank God I wasn’t rippling and muscular. Subtlety was never Gerald’s strong point.

All of which made me remember that when bumping in to old acquaintances, it’s sooo much better if you’ve actually made a roaring success of your life.

All Change. Again.

So that’s that. Once again, I’m going to attempt this fucking life reversal – cycle every day, swim, go back to the gym, eat sensibly, and knock alcohol on the head for as long as I can. There’s nothing dignified about hiding behind a wall to surreptitiously urinate on a high street when you’re thirty-three.

I just have to go to Brighton right now to see Monkey Dave and dive into a beer festival first.

Sorry.

16 comments:

Dom said...

God, I come out in hives if I'm disconnected from the net. Life just wouldn't be the same without knowing that I could check my email, or consult google any time of the day or night whereever I may be. If I can't get onto the internet now it also means I'm off the mobile phone network which means no calls or texts either, an experience that is just too traumatic to contemplate. You have my deepest condolences.

Z said...

Frankly, I'd rather be fat than stop drinking altogether. Fortunately, I've found that I can keep drinking as long as I don't eat much.

I get very twitchy without the internet for more than a couple of days, but I can't blog in an internet cafe.

Monozygote said...

This happened to me last year. You have my sympathies.

I pretty much moved into the internet cafe, since there was no longer any point in being at home. It's not the same though, as z has mentioned.

Monozygote said...

ps Horrid old Gerald. He deserved to be called a wanker. Well done for rising above it.

Day Dreamer said...

I'm in your corner for the life reversal thing. Cross fingers here.
You know, Gerald is really no different than the rest of us. We all laugh at you. A lot. But I guess we also (sometimes) root for you, too. So you just can't hate us as much.
Sending you a big-ass kiss from Oklahoma.

Clarissa said...

For the internet dating thing, do you use the same photo of yourself as you do for this sight?

livesbythewoods said...

If you want Gerald given a good hoofing, drop me a line.

He sounds ripe for being kicked all over the floor by a fat middle-aged woman with a grudge.

British Gal Does Tokyo said...

Healthy dollop of schadenfreude in realizing that I am not the only one with two unused gym memberships (in gym 1, the swimmers are me, 20 19 year old boys and my boss. Nice.)
In on-line dating, beware the keyboard twang:
http://drrobertepstein.com/downloads/FROM_RUSSIA_WITH_LOVE-Epstein-Sci_Am_Mind-Oct-Nov2007.pdf
Your "no stranger to pies" paragraph made me snoo my smoothy. On the career plan (post-Brighton) how about writing a comedy series, or a pilot for one? Since only two funny things have come out of Britain in years, you'd be onto a winner.

Han said...

Have been without Internet now at home for nearly 3 weeks thanks to incompetent BT. I "favourited" someone who "favourited" me back then asked me to poke him on Facebook...now he has disappeared. You are not alone.

Vi said...

Hey, the girl that's 200 miles away... a lot easier to get to than New York!!!

Inarticulate Fumblings said...

I'm on the same weight rollercoaster as you are. I used to be fun but I'm starting to get sick...

fwengebola said...

Dom ~ Hey, I'm back, hence this comment. God, it was awful, like being back in the middle ages, or something.
Z ~ Yes, but I can't not drink and not eat a lot. They are two of my favourite things.
Internet cafes are hell. Indian ones are better. They allow the users to browse all sorts of smut as many monitors face a wall. Hence their popularity with teenage boys.
Mon ~ Thank you. In fairness, Gerald didn't call me a wanker either, although he certainly looked keen to.
DD ~ Oklahoman Big-ass kisses seem much nicer than big arsed London ones. And thanks for the root - although that could be considered offensive in Australia.
Clar ~ No, that would be astonishingly dodgy.
LBTW ~ Welcome. And that's threat of casual violence at my foes is extremely kind and worrying of you.
BGDT ~ Hullo again. That article was brilliant, although I half expected a violent Russian gang being behind it for kidnapping reasons. And I particularly like your 'snoo' typo. I shall use snoozing more often.
I've tried writing comedy. It pains me. But I will try again. Perhaps when I'm 96.
Han ~ Three weeks? You must be climbing up the walls. Or perhaps that's just me.
Men are odd enough without having to deal with them online.
Tschh, us.
Vi ~ Yes, I can't wait for all that tedious travelling. If I ever bother to meet her.
You've changed your lipstick.
IF ~ Then you have to get off the rollercoaster and on to Route Stable Boring Weightloss.

Z said...

Yes, Indian ones are all right, though I've unimaginatively not tried browsing smut in one. I'll never use a computer in an Indian hotel again though - cost the earth and are painfully slow. If you ever get the opportunity, Madras Cricket Club has a good internet room/library, though the librarian is frightfully snooty.

fwengebola said...

Now I'm sure I've been to Madras. Is that the temple heavy one? Hang on, it's Chennai, isn't it?
Been there.
Left pretty quickly.

luna said...

Well,I'm now officially overweight,bordering on obese,but that doesn't bother me in the least.
Most of the weight rests on my chest.

What was wrong with your net?

fwengebola said...

I've always thought that's a handy side effect of weight gain for women.
Dunno, our connection just went down locally.