Although basically it's more to do with me being a lilly-livered coward.
I like some aspects of it, such as the bettering yourself stuff - in my case the weight loss and the dressing better, which resulted in the pipette's droplet of vague confidence that somehow found its way into my beige head like a corpse scavenging worm. That's all been good. But the actual devil-may-care, too cool for school lady-approaching moments? Well that never happened. I was raised by good, strong women to be a decent man, dammit, so basically I'm terrified of that whole hornet's nest.
I don't think I want to be a smarmy sleazy scumbag. You know those guys; any hole's a goal, only care about themselves, constantly having loads of random, meaningless sex with a string of women they've just met on the train, or in bars, or in libraries and coffee shops and pools and unable to take that shit-eating grin off their chops.
Meanwhile my life continues slowly, and uneventfully. And yes, as you ask, I am in contact with my ex-girlfriend (American) again, where she's obviously in between jerks and is forced to re-evaluate me and my need for emotional contact even from 4,000 miles away.
Sort of. She contacted me a little bit, and I replied a bit in return.
So things are, y'know, still kinda meh, in that barely-blogging-anymore, more-or-less-resolved-to-die-now sorta way. The stone-and-a-half I regained this year (when 2012 dawned and I realised I was cold and bored of exercise so I jumped on the Doritos and chocolate brownies Express) has been re-lost, somehow, and I'm in reasonably great shape. What's more, in six days time, SIX BEAUTIFUL DAYS time, I will be sunning myself on a Cretan beach, or hiking down a Cretan gorge, or perambulating along a Cretan temple - basically I won't be at work, that's what I'm trying to say, as I'll be on my summer holiday with my mate Ed.
Because that's what I live for, that annual two-week window from work when I'll be anywhere but There, away from that motherfucking phone, and people who demand I do things for them, having been cruelly awoken from my perfectly good slumb-
- - It's my job, isn't it? It all comes down to that job that I do, that stop-gap, get a job fast that I've somehow bumbled along in for the last seven years.
I've lost the weight, I've quit smoking. I have to do it. I have to