The Very Secret Tale of SRAM

Wordpress pisses me off, but it does have the ability to password protect entries. This is completely convoluted but any secret posts are going to be on wordpress, but I'm sticking with blogger for the main ones. DM me on Twitter for the password and then go here!

The Very Secret Tale of SRAM

Enjoy!

My Love Affair with/as The Zebra Costume

Now, you may or may not know that I am rather a fan of the old fancy dress. Huge, in fact. I regularly spend a lot of a)money, b) time and c)effort on my costumes. I think this stems from my childhood when my mum would throw Halloween parties for me and my friends, and me and my brother would always have incredibly imaginative costumes, (in other words, I was NEVER just a “witch.” Or a “cat.” Bitch, please.)

Now, I tend to repeat the good costumes for different audiences as I love people complimenting me on them. One outfit in particular is The Zebra. I have dressed up as A Zebra on no less than 5 occasions. Each time has been subtlety different, but the core costume involves a white top with black gaffer tape stripes, and black and white stripey knee high socks. Optional extras have included tails, ears, zebra knickers, and varying degrees of facepaint (from minimal stripes to full on face/body/incredibly detailed facepaint).

Zebras. Aren't they pretty?

Now one of my more memorable holidays of my life was when I went to Malia in summer 2010 with some schoolfriends. Waay, Brits Abroad, BANTAH etc etc etc Yes, the place The Inbetweeners went to in their film. They were in fact filming there the week after we left…

Now I’m sure I don’t have to describe this kind of holiday to you in too much detail. They are pretty much exactly as you imagine them:

Wake up
Down some Ibus
Stagger to pool/beach
Sleep
Wake up, eat something, (carbs) go back to sleep
Shower
Eat something else (optional)
Drink
Go out
Drink some more
Kiss someone/thing unsuitable
Eat something else (KFC)
Go home in the early hours
Sleep

Lather. Rinse. Repeat. Ad Nauseum.

Needless to say I had an absolute BALL in Malia. Unapologetically amazing. We’ll have none of that snobbery here thank you very much. One of our favourites bars was one called “Indie Bar.” As you can see Malia bar owners are about as orginial as I am when it comes to naming things. Our first encounter with said bar was being accousted by the “PRs” outside, who are basically people who work for all the bars, stand outside and entice you in with various deals etc.

Or, in the case of Indie bar, physically pick you up and carry you into the bar.

We got to Malia very late at night for some reason so were pretty knackered and all I can remember about first meeting the guys here was thinking, “YOU LOOK ABOUT TWELVE” about one guy who was not unattractive. If a bit short. Turns out he was 22 (I was 23). He was called Mark.

The rest of the people we met we just gave nicknames to. So there was Armpit (had very sweaty armpits), Armpit’s Brother (who turned out to be Frankie Cocooza! Yes fact fans, I met him a year before he was on X-factor….), The Bear, (looked like one), The Hair & His Boy (his hipster hair took over his head), Lizard Man, Brown Nick, (he called himself this…) Rainbow girl, the list goes on and on.

Back to Mark. First proper night out, one of the girls (L) sustained a foot injury and so retired early (another friend going with her), leaving me and my friend…Mouse. Our way home went past Indie bar so we stopped as we went past as Mark was sitting in the front.

From what I remember there wasn’t much of a conversation (we were in Malia, the place for intellectual debate it is not), before he said something like, “Let’s play paper, scissor, stone to see which one of you I kiss,” (!) but Mouse has a boyfriend, so of course it was Old Muggins here who got to kiss him.

Cue kissing. With Mouse about 10 centimetres away going, “Oooo THEY’RE KISSING!” Ahahaha. Soz babe.

Cue the next week flirting outrageously with him. Another highlight was bumping into him coming back from the beach, he was coming out of a house with a massive suitcase and L says,

“Ooo….Are you going on your hols??”

Absolute silence…..tumbleweed…..

“It was a joke.”

More silence…..

I digress. Back to Zebras. We decided we should have some themed nights whilst away and one we decided on was Zebras. (We also had neon night, where we had Cecil the centipede and I lost my camera. Another story). Zebra night took place on the second to last night, and I think I decided that this was The Night. The Zebra costume consisted of the socks, the gaffer tape stripes, stripes on my face, a skinny black and white scarf around my waist (my tail), and ears? Maybe not ears.

So we started off in Indie Bar naturally. And as we were leaving, get this, I GAVE HIM MY TAIL (the scarf)……and told him to “look after it, cos I’m coming back for it later.” Oh deary me. But he worked til like 4am, and we wanted to go out and dance so what else was I supposed to do?

We went to a club called …Zoo or Safari or something equally animal related, that was covered in zebra prints, cue lots of ridiculous posing for photos. I got talking to some couple, and somehow got a polaroid photo taken of me with said people….

(Apparently, later on when my friends were in KFC later that night (when I was absent) they got talking to a lad who complimented them on their zebra costumes, saying, “Oh yeah I met some other girl earlier dressed as a zebra,” and produces the polaroid of me, causing much screaming by my friends of “THAT’S [MY NAME!!]”)

Meanwhile, I’d made my way back to Indie Bar and Mark, and then Mark’s place of abode. We picked our way through one room full of sleeping bodies, and actually managed to get a room to ourselves (very different to the Australian incident). I’d like to just remind you that I AM DRESSED AS A ZEBRA at this point. Obviously this needed to be rectified so clothes start coming off, but of course I’ve got a load of black gaffer tape strapped around my chest which is quite hard to get off and still look sexy. Nigh on impossible in fact.

Eventually I get the gaffer tape off and lash it somewhere and things proceed. Exact details bit hazy. (Not that this is a recurring theme AT ALL. No, siree, not me…) I do however, very definitely remember seeing the gaffer tape on the floor and thinking, “Yes, I can use this,” and using it to tie his wrists together above his head…

I am nothing if not resourceful.

The Stride of Pride home the next morning was possibly the most enjoyable one I’ve ever had. No one else is up, apart from other Stridees. I’d describe it like when you go out running or dog walking early in the morning and do that very English “nod” or “good morning” acknowledgement thing to other runners/dog walkers, except you’re doing it to other people who got laid. ‘Mazing.

We started our last night in Indie Bar (of course), and the verdict from Mark was pretty incredible. Moral of the story: if you can incorporate your fancy dress costume into sex this will only ever get you good results.

Single? vs Cheating Scum?

One of my most recent escapades has been an interesting one. I was on a rather large night out where I knew the vast majority people there apart from one guy, who shall henceforth be known as WelshBoy, under my incredibly distinctive and highly original naming style. I went home with Welshboy after we bonded over being made to eat a berocca whole. (Long story, it was a sort-of but-not-really initiation kinda thing).

As an aside, I do not recommend eating a berocca. I was in some serious pain afterwards. I thought I was going to be sick at first, then I felt like my chest was going to explode, and the sides of my ribs were in constant pain. Then I burped. A LOT. And the pain went away. Ah physics.

Back to Welshie. Best part of it was laughing at the fact he has “Happy 21st Birthday” cards up in his room. He was born in 1991. LORD. I really need to stop getting with boys who are only a few months older than my baby brother. Or, I can consider this all training for when I’m 40 and am going to be a proper cougar. Which I so blatantly am going to be.

He poked me awake at about 6am because he (allegedly) had to be in at 8. So I hauled ass out of there, but not without realising I’d lost (another) earring. Seriously I go through so many. I basically can’t wear them if I’m going to be drinking because I will just lose them.

So that was (another) Stride of Pride at commuting time. Considerably hungover.

Anyway, there had been no mention of numbers or anything so I carried on my merry way, day later came the friend request from him (yeaaah, always feel better for resisting doing it myself) and then 2 days later he messaged saying he had found my earring! Whoop.

However, in the mean time I was doing some stalking research….His facebook relationship status states “Single.” So far so good.

BUT

There is a lot of other stuff on there to suggest he’s not. Photos of holidays with what is/was(?) obviously a longterm girlfriend, very recent wall posts etc etc. Enough to make me think: “HMMMM.” Other things in his behaviour made me think “HMMMM” as well – he kept telling me to be quiet (not just specifically in sex, I’m a generally noisy person, ESPECIALLY when drunk), the fact he got me up so early and out of the house, and poked his head in his flatmate’s room on the way out – (who hadn’t been in)….

But, on the other hand, the potential girlfriend doesn’t seem like the type who would tolerate her BF’s status being single (would anyone?), and as has been pointed out to me: if he was cheating why the hell would he add me on fb? Surely he’d want to minimise risk? But then again, men can be complete idiots sometimes. Or, it’s been a VERY (talking a week, 2 weeks max) breakup.

Fast forward a few more days. He messages me asking if I want my earring back, and we chat for a bit, and then try to set up some kind of quasi date/drinks/event to get this errant earring back to me. (Incidentally this is *exactly* the same pretence that me and Toga first met up with – “giving back my toga.” I need to do this more often – leave an item of belonging, have to see them again to get it back! Obviously with nothing I actually want/need in case the gamble doesn’t pay off…) Didn’t really arrange anything concrete, he just said he would text over the weekend and we’d go somewhere. So this could very easily fall through.

So, did he cheat? Or is he single? Watch this space.

The whole thing got me thinking about people who cheat in relationships. The only time I’ve ever done it was right at the end of one, where I knew we were going to break up soon, and I kissed a guy I met in a mosh pit at Leeds Festival. PAH! But I knew we weren’t going to last, he knew it as well and we did indeed break up a few weeks later. I’m not saying that kissing this guy was right, but in my head I’d psychologically already broken up with my bf. But I’ve never slept with someone else whilst with a boyfriend, and I’d like to think I never would.

And what I find hard to wrap my head around is people who cheat but carry on the relationship. Ok, if it was a horrendous drunken mistake that you barely remember and are incredibly guilty about, that makes sense, I can understand that. But what about those that actively seek it, that do it intentionally, that it’s pre-meditated, that actively look for someone to cheat on their partner with? Surely doing this is a sign that something is fundamentally wrong with your relationship, whether that be the lack of sex (oft cited), the lack of communication, the lack of time spent together – whatever – and this is something you need to address and fix, or if it can’t be fixed BREAK UP WITH THEM YOU ARE CLEARLY NOT MEANT TO BE TOGETHER.

I’ve been tricked into being the “other girl,” before. I didn’t actually have sex with this guy, but well, put it this way, I would not be happy with our activities if I was his girlfriend. I was out with a load of mutual friends, and he was being very complimentary, flirty etc which I respond very well to, but I noticed he had a photo of a girl as his background on his phone, which he told me was his girlfriend…..few hours later we were walking to the next bar and he grabbed me and pushed me into a bus stop and starting kissing me (romantic!), but I stopped and kicked off about his girlfriend. Cue a rather long convoluted story about how she had cheated on him a while ago then he did on her to get back at her blah blah blah, upshot was they were now in an “open relationship” and they could get with other people.

So I thought, “Fine, cool, people do that, it’s ok,” and the evening carried on. I assumed everything was fine, but then at a later date when talking about it with a girlfriend ,was informed that the whole open relationship thing, although they had done it previously, was now not in play and therefore I was definitely now a bad person. Eeek!

Another old friend is exactly the same. Long term girlfriend, shags around, everyone knows. BUT WHY? Am I being naïve? Is this a male thing? Or are women just as bad? Is it a sex thing? I guess I just like to think that if I was ever in that situation and the relationship was such a mess that I’d be big enough to end it with my partner rather than cheat on them.

Of course, that kind of relies on HAVING A GOD DAMN BOYFRIEND IN THE FIRST PLACE.

Current Online Dating Sitch

I joined an online dating website in January, as a quasi resolution to stop meeting men whilst drunk, in an attempt to start a relationship this year. So far I’ve met 4 guys, with varying degrees of success.

2 were….fine. Lovely guys, had a nice night etc etc but knew nothing more would come of it.

1 was…odd. For starters he was late – a massive no no in my book. He then said, “Oh I wasn’t even going to come, I’m surprised you’re here.” Umm. Ok….we then went to a bar when he decided to spring on me that he didn’t drink.

Now I’m not being judgemental, but going out and getting a bit merry is quite a large part of what I do at the weekend, and whether this is right or wrong, I don’t think I could go out with someone who doesn’t drink. For starters they probably wouldn’t want to go out with me, as I am a liability/mess/loud/annoying etc etc

So so far, we’ve had two strikes. We then had very little to talk about. It was tedious. And he was odd. Just odd. Could not wait to get out of there.

The most recent guy I met was better. He lives really close to me, and we met up at a local bar. He was hot, had a good job, and……HAS A PHD IN ASTROPHYSICS. Yes, that’s right, the man’s a rocket scientist. Now working for a bank. So rich. Clever. Good looking. Fun. Ticking. The. Boxes. I named him DrR. As in Dr Rocketscience.

We got s-mashed. I don’t remember the end of the night. But I was very VERY good, and came straight home, didn’t even kiss him or anything. My god I was hungover the next day though.

We had a second date the next week, when the weather was doing strange things and being absolutely glorious. We spent the evening in a rooftop bar overlooking St Paul’s – was beautiful, followed by some food. Again, went really well. Again, no funny business. We set up a third date, but in a while because I was going on holiday for two weeks.

I went on holiday, got back to London, and he cancelled on me. Week later I asked if wanted to do anything, and he invited me out on that Saturday night with his friends, “on the lash to watch the fc cup final.” That was odd. I wasn’t sure whether to take it as a compliment that he was inviting me out with friends (probably a good thing?), but at the same time – I’d only met him twice, wasn’t sure how keen I’d be with all his friends. Bit uncomfortable? So I made an excuse not to go.

Not heard much since. Walked past where we went on the date recently, texted him – got a text back….but no suggestion of another date, despite me making it clear I’d say yes if he asked.

So what gives? We had 2 really good dates, and then once again – just stops talking to me. I can’t win! I put out straight away with Toga, and haven’t even kissed DrR and yet they both lost interest. What am I doing wrong?? I’m pretty sure I don’t come off as a psycho. I don’t constantly ring/text every two minutes. I’m not needy, I’m fun, I can hold a conversation. What horrendous vibe am I giving off so that I can’t sustain someone’s interest for longer than five minutes? What’s inherently wrong with me?

The Tale of Toga Boy

Now, in the last two and a half years there hasn’t really been many guys that have really made the cut, and actually made an impression. But one of those guys was Toga.
I met Toga through my usual modus operandi, i.e. absolutely half cut. Unsurprisingly it was at a uni “Toga Party” night (hence the name. I am nothing if not original….)I had been at a play rehearsal and then onto someone’s flat for some pre-drinks where I sunk a bottle of wine before moving onto to the union. Someone gave me a shot of…something. And my memory ends here pretty much. I vaguely remember walking back to Toga’s house, I vaguely remember having sex with him, I vaguely remember his friend’s barging into the room….but it’s all very hazy. Yeah yeah, I’m horrendous etc etc

I woke up at 7am as my phone alarm was going off. Don’t remember setting it. WELL DONE DRUNK ME. This was very good as I was due to go back to my first uni to graduate…. I had to be there for around 11, didn’t I. At first, not going to lie, didn’t know where I was. Boy next to me was HOT though. Another WELL DONE DRUNK ME. I collect my clothes up and get dressed, trying to avoid the metal construction fence thing that was in the room. (Don't ask, I do not know). Luckily I’d been wearing clothes under my toga. That could have been very awkward, doing a walk of shame Stride of Pride through East London in a strip of turquoise material. I couldn’t actually find my toga or the belt that I’d borrowed, but time was of the essence here, and I figured I could sacrifice them….Hottie next to me had woken up so I was apologising for having to leave at the crack of dawn….the sweetheart got up and showed me out and was generally quite nice….was just thinking to myself, “Aww he’s hot AND lovely, I did well….” Whilst also figuring out where the hell I was, and how I was going to get home, get washed changed and back out to the station in time….All I can say is Google Maps is a beautiful beautiful thing.

Of course, the underground line I needed wasn’t sodding open, so I had to get the bus, which was particularly fragrant this morning. Being still drunk this was not doing wonders for me….5 minutes down the road I get a text asking if “this is me? Love from my messy house x” I’D ONLY GONE AND GIVEN THE HOTTIE MY NUMBER WHILST PISSED.

Drunk Me – You have surpassed yourself. I was SO proud.

Cue texting back and forth all day, whilst I was out of the city, pretending to be sober whilst wearing a gown and hood and carrying out ridiculous ceremonies. I was pretty spaced that whole day, and of course my friends found the whole thing hilarious. I made it there on time. Just.

Unfortunately…..I didn’t know his name. I tried subtlety putting my name on the end of my texts so he would do the same….no such luck. We texted solidly for the next week, he found my toga and we set up a date under the pretence of giving it back to me. By this point I’d found some attempts of trying to save a number in my phone that had too few digits and also a number saved under “James is great.” …I checked the number and it was one digit wrong from the one he’d been texting from YAY I FIGURED HIS NAME OUT. I think.

I did go on the first date only 80% sure I knew his name.

It went so SO well. I fancied him so much. Everything he said just ticked every box I think I’ve ever had. He was fun, we had loads in common, (from matching sport induced knee injuries to spending stupid amounts of time/money/effort on ridiculous fancy dress), he had loads of medic friends, he had loads of gay friends, he went to festivals, he liked the same music. We got pretty drunk and then on the way back to mine managed to stumble upon a hidden courtyard with a beautiful fountain.

I’ve tried to find this courtyard again. I can’t do it. No idea where it is. I’m not sure I want to find it, I think I’d rather just keep it as this hidden moment of amazing-ness we shared.

The next morning he added me on facebook, without me telling him my surname…..Over the next few weeks we went on some more dates, out in Soho, dancing, I went to his and we watched films and ate ice cream, and we texted constantly. Ok I wasn’t sure where it was going, if he wanted something more, if it was just a fling, just a sex thing, I don’t know. But I was happy to go just go along with it and enjoy myself and see what happened. I didn’t want to scare him off, and I did/said NOTHING to suggest any kind of commitment.

And then. And then.

He just stopped talking to me. Completely. Gutted. Just gutted. I just got completely phased out. I sent him a message along the lines of “What happened? Did you get bored of me? I thought we were having fun, but I guess not.”

Radio silence for about another week or two, and I was getting on with life when out of the blue he sends a quasi apology text, where he says sorry for not talking to me, but not really giving me any real reason. And that was it.

I know there’s probably a million reasons why he just binned me off. Still hurt. I desperately tried at the start not to like him too much, not to get too involved…..didn’t happen. I’ve done this before, and got hurt the exact same way. If I like someone then I just throw myself headfirst in, which comes back to bite me! One day this technique will pay off….one day.

Looking back, it was probably quite obvious that it wasn’t going to last, given the way we met etc etc. And normally I would never dream of pursuing complete one night stands, that’s not what they’re about! But HE texted ME, he kept up the contact, and I let myself believe that maybe he would be the exception to the rule and it would continue into something. Learnt the hard way about that then didn’t I?