awkward, dating, diary, personal

Renaming Mr. Bingley

Nope. I was not “very polite” nor “clear about the fact that I want no role in this whatsoever”. Of course I wasn’t. No, instead I chose to confront him on the next night out, dressed in an elf outfit. If you have no idea how hard it is to keep your dignity whilst wearing an elf costume, let me tell you; near to impossible. Anyway, Mr. Bingley assured me of the fact that he did have a girlfriend, however broke up with a couple of months ago. This helped me getting to the conclusion that he did have a girlfriend the first time we kissed, but seeing as it was the same for me I was not in the position to judge.

So he went home with me that night. What can I say? I am ashamed and disappointed in myself, but a drunk heart does what a drunk heart wants. Nothing happened, again. We kissed briefly and passed out, which seems to be our signature move. I am not complaining however.

Now comes the most awkward part. I amused my friends till the point of tears in their eyes when telling, or rather acting out, this part of the story. So imagine me, half dressed in an elf-costume, half in PJ’s. Then on to him, wearing some weird-ass costume as well. Then back to me, awkwardly making clear that I have a lot of work to do. Back to him, understanding and possibly quite relieved to have an excuse to leave my house. Then back to me, realizing he doesn’t have money for a cab and is wearing tights, feeling sorry for him and offering him money for his cab. Back to him, feeling quite demasculinized by having to ask for money but accepting my offer anyway. Then back to me, taking a tenner out of my wallet, having a brief yet essential moment of brain failure, throwing the money onto the bed. As the money is hovering in the air, I realized what I just had done. I had thrown money at him. I had just thrown money at him after he spent the night at my place, wearing tights. What was I thinking? Did I believe that I had to act thug for living the thug life?

Thus, there you have it. Him awkwardly grabbing the note from my bed, me screaming frantically inside my head. I don’t have words for it really, apart from the fact that I am an utter and complete idiot. Nevertheless I have decided to rename Mr. Bingley for this would NEVER EVER EVER have happened in Pride and Prejudice and Jane Austen would quite possibly turn around in her grave if she found out that I used the name of her beloved Mr. Bingley for a lad that I throw my money at.

All suggestions are welcome.

Stay golden my little ponyboys and stay strong my fellow awkward-turtles out there,

Yours truly, Maple.

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dating, diary, love, personal, relationships

A busy week

Okay so you guys haven’t heard from me for a while. Don’t worry, it wasn’t for any exciting reason: it was because I am buried in uni work. However, apart from that I did manage to get myself into some awkward situations. So last week I had a streak of interesting nights out. The first night of the week I went out with my housemate who recently broke up with her boyfriend (we’ll name her Lena) and because I had to stupidly joke about “the fastest way to get over someone is to get under someone else” she has taken my advise very seriously. My bad. So it didn’t take long before she had found herself a nice lad and went home with him, without me knowing it. Basically I ended up dancing by myself or with a group of strangers for the rest of the night and seeing myself home at the end of it. The next day I  went out with my housemates instead of the varsity team because it was Lena’s birthday. So once arrived at the club I did spot my team and ran over to them to great them and there he was: Mr. Bingley. However, because I recently came to the conclusion that it wasn’t particularly going anywhere I decided to ignore him. Great choice. So instead of having normal conversations I fled every time he was coming near me.

Nevertheless I had a splendid evening until I lost all of my friends and ended up alone and confused. And then I ran into one of my course mates (and I feel that I have to mention that I barely show up to uni because of various reasons so I don’t really know any of my coursemates, but I did recognize him, for he is always the one who smiles at me). He seemed concerned and asked me what was wrong so I told him that I lost all my friends. But along with losing my friends I also lost my ability to behave and talk normal (alcohol does strange things to you), so as I was trying to leave with my dignity whilst putting my sweater on inside out he offered to take me home. I was endeared, really. But I also have to much pride, so I told him that I was fine and I took a cab home myself. Once at home, I received a text from Mr. Bingley, asking me why I didn’t come out with the varsity team. As a reply I sent back a streak of unidentifiable drunk texts, followed by my location (yes, facebook has this annoying location button that won’t stop leaving me alone) after which I fell into a coma.

Although I wanted to kill myself in the morning, I felt a little better for Mr. Bingley had replied and we started an actual normal conversation, which somehow ended quite abruptly though, soon after. Another night out arrived and because my body and my soul had given up, me and Ally decided to go home early and call it a night. The next day I discovered that I was unaware of about three upcoming assignments so I spent the following part of the week hiding behind my computer and books in the library. When I ran into my coursemate from the other night but like always, I was far too awkward to actually start a conversation or to thank him for the other night, so instead I nodded in acknowledgement.

Okay that’s about it, for now. 

Stay golden my little ponyboys and stay strong my fellow awkward-turtles out there,

Yours truly, Maple.

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dating, love, relationships

Till there were none..

Here a little update from yours truly. These past couple of days have been.. hectic. To say the least. Somehow I have managed to go from three secret (secret as in I decided to hide them from the rest of the world) admirers to absolutely none. Quite impressive, I have to say. 

So, about a month ago I broke up with the only boy I have ever loved. Or man, if you will. I will not go into the dreadful details of it, but my decision was mainly based on the fact that I loved him in a way that was not appropriate for a girl of my age. I wasn’t so much ‘in love’ with him, I found, but loved him more deeply, like a friend or a brother. And I know about this horrendous trend called ‘friendzoning’, in which guys believe that they are being treated unjust by girls because the girls refuse to fall in love with them – however it was nothing like that, cause I literally pushed myself to fall in love. I knew that he was the kind of guy that I would marry. He was reliable, kind and handsome as well. But one cannot force love, apparently. 

As I once again was a single gal, the guys seemed to flock towards me for the first time in my life. There is this theory that people are somehow more attractive when they are actually in or just out of a relationship and I have seen this effect with my own eyes. It begun with Mr. Bingley, as I have mentioned him earlier. Basically what happened after that particular evening is some drunk texting back and forth: it didn’t mean much – mostly things like ‘you should have come out tonight’, because for some sort of reason we took turns of staying at home when the other person was going out, very effective. So it’s needless to say that that “affair” slowly bled out, which is probably for the best to be honest. 

Then there was this Spanish lad I met at a Halloween party. I had picked out the most slippery shoes I owned that night and fell down approximately twenty times. My new Spanish friend (we shall call him Juan) took care of me and surprisingly enough believed me every time when I assured him that I was only falling down because the floor was so slippery (which it was!) and not because I had gulped down a couple of whiskeys too much. Eventually Juan managed to get me home, stayed over and we had a very uneventful night as we both fell asleep straight away. The next day he came across as a generally nice guy so I decided to let my guard down and give him a chance. WRONG. He turned out to be an ordinary douchebag as he invited me multiple times to several different house parties or to come over to his house, to then not respond to any of my messages and leave me hanging. 

The final suitor showed up on another night out, because for some reason I am not capable of meeting nice people in the normal, daily live. I won’t even dedicate a paragraph to him, it’s sufficient to say that he was a mistake, for he couldn’t have been my type any less. Calling me “chick” and referring to himself as “us”, so I pied him off quite easily. 

So  there you have it. Once again forever alone. Not much of a surprise. 

Stay golden my little ponyboys and stay strong my fellow awkward-turtles out there,

Yours truly, Maple.

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dating, diary, love, personal, relationships

Wicked Games

I’ve said it a million times, but I’ll say it once again; there is a 99% chance that I will end up alone. I know that it’s a grim thing to say, but I’m just being realistic. Maybe I am childish, or maybe I am too old-fashioned; either way –  I can’t keep up with anyone. I do not understand these games that you’re supposed to play. All these rules, while all I want to do is wear my heart on my sleeve, be bold and allow myself to fall into that big gaping hole of beautiful uncertainty. Instead I should be following this set of rules. The rules that were designed to successfully trap your “crush” or “significant other” or whatever you may call it into a relationship. Today’s meaning of hooking up mostly means that you have played your cards right, you haven’t scared them off too early.

Take the three-days rule for example, my friends tell me that I should wait three whole days before texting someone and even when you text, it should be measured, not too excited, not too many emoticons or exclamation marks or even capital letters. I have never been particularly good at hiding my feelings and when I feel that someone could actually potentially be important to me I don’t want to be following a bunch of rules. I want to discard all rules. I don’t want to play games.

Isn’t there a saying, “lucky in cards, unlucky in love.” I think love should never involve any form of games, for it is the most serious of matters. I have no fear of loosing a game, however, loosing my heart is the scariest thing. Perhaps someday I will find that one person that avoids all game-playing too. Or perhaps I will be forever surrounded by players. If so, I will refer to my earlier statement and rather be forever alone, like a ravished chess piece.

Stay golden my little ponyboys and stay strong my fellow awkward-turtles out there,

Yours truly, Maple.

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