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Wasn’t Expecting That

So my friend Michael came to visit this weekend. We met each other last summer when I was working on a campsite in Spain and we basically spent every night together and towards the end we had a little fling, I am not going to lie. However as our ways parted after the summer, I did not expect to see him again. That’s the way it is supposed to be with summer romances, isn’t it?

So when he suggested to come and visit me this weekend I didn’t quite know what to expect, but I hoped it would be a friendly visit. The first awkward moment became apparent as I walked into my room after he had dropped his stuff inside and noticed a big bouquet of flowers. Secretly hoping that he bought it for his mother that he would see on his way back I pretended I’d never seen it. Unfortunately, they were for me.

The weekend continued with us going out with one of my neighbours. As the three of us were dancing the night away in the local student club I ran in to Sebastian (I mentioned him in my earlier post ‘Back to Black‘). After quickly saying hi to Sebastian and his friends I returned to Michael and my neighbour. An hour later whilst it became clearer and clearer that Michael was trying to impress me with his dance moves and his constant winking – I received a message from Sebastian. ‘Are you going to Flamingo later?‘ Flamingo is basically the only bar down here that is opened till 6 am. I am a massive fan personally. Yes – it may be filled with creepers and desperate people, but they play tune after tune and they serve drinks in their smoking lounge!

I replied with a casual ‘Of course!’ as it is only natural for me to continue the night there I had accidentally arranged a meet-up later. If I had learned one thing from the past it was to keep people who probably both like you seperated. Don’t introduce them. Thus as we moved on to Flamingo (because I had also promised my neighbour and Michael earlier) we bumped into Sebastian sitting on the corner of the street next to this homeless guy called Jeff. Jeff turned out to be an absolute legend.

At first I very much wanted to pass him without saying a thing, for that would be the best scenario, but I couldn’t push myself to leave Seb there, for he was looking quite lost. Thus I walked over with my neighbour and Michael and introduced the lot. Seb, being the gentleman he always is offered to pay for my neighbour as she did not have enough money for the entry.

We all went in and it became apparent quite quickly for both my ‘suitors’ that they were both interest in me. What followed was a veeeeery uncomfortable evening in which I heavily tried to avoid giving one more attention than the other, or the kind of attention that might make them get the wrong idea. Thus when Seb grabbed me by my arm and asked me if I saw him as ‘just a friend‘ I collapsed under the stressfulness that had been the entire night and mumbled that I would prefer to have that conversation at another point. He left, probably slightly offended or disappointed. Michael, my neighbour and me left not much later and found him waiting for us outside, but as soon as he noticed that I was still in the company of my friends he walked off. Completely normal behaviour.

Not having mentioned the amount of fights that Seb’s very rowdy friend managed to get involved in that entire night (I honestly do not understand that testosterone driven habit of drunk men) I thought the worst was finally behind me, when my neigbour asked for a sigaret from a random guy on the way home. As soon as he turned around I identified him as a guy I was briefly seeing last year (whom I mentioned in the post ‘Till there were none‘) I gave up on hoping I could have a nice night out. I guess this is my punishment for dating too many people.

Now the next day Michael became very clingy and stayed around all day, whilst all I wanted to do was being by myself. Not to mention receiving messages from Tiger if I wanted to hang out. All in all it caused me having a slight panic attack. It probably sounds ridiculous but all I want right now is for everyone to leave me alone so I can curl up in my blanket and lie on the floor like a burrito. But for some reason (and I am going to generalise here, sue me) men are incapable of being friends with girls without having another agenda. I also don’t understand why all the boys I meet immediately want to be in some sort of relationship, whilst I don’t think I am capable of that. After Mr. Bingley there’s been no one who comes even close to him and I am not interested in anyone that’s not him. There’s the truth.

Anyway, that was enough excitement for the rest of the week for me, I hope.

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

Yours truly, Maple.

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Back to Black

So a couple months later, and so much wiser, I find myself far distanced from the infamous Mr. Bingley. As he graduated and moved somewhere else I never actually saw him again after summer time. But good thing for you guys -not so much for me –  my very unsuccessful love life continues and I have a few new candidates to introduce to you.

Sebastian, a very old fashioned guy, as well on the boy’s varsity team who apparently had been waiting to take over Mr Bingley’s role. However after a date and a couple of nights out I have realised that I am just not romantically interested in him. It is odd how that works. Someone fits all the bills, yet the feeling is not there.

Spencer, a friend of Liz and a really handsome young man, however; again, I don’t think I am interested.

And finally Tiger, he has become a really good friend of mine although he keeps sending me love letters, and again, you can probably guess it: not interested.

Anyhoo, this was just a post to keep you guys up to date. More will follow.

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

Yours truly, Maple.

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diary, drunk, friends, love, madness, monday, mondays, night out, personal, relationships

Monday’s, Madness and Messy Nights

I think we can all agree on the fact that Monday’s are bad in general but some Monday’s are just a little worse than others. Especially after a wild weekend, the Monday can be a very very though day. Believe me, I speak from experience. As if my life wasn’t awkward enough, this weekend I had to push it too far to make it a little worse. I’ll start at the beginning when my best friend and housemate for two and a half years convinced me to go out with her and one of our other friends because she was supposed to meet up with a guy.

Now, this was not just any guy. If you would know my housemate you would know that she is not that quickly impressed by a guy. Throughout the two and a half years that I have known her I have perhaps seen her with a guy twice. One of those two times was last year, long story short: she hooked up with him in the club, however refused to go home with him and as we were walking home and he walked behind us I overheard him saying horrible things about my friend which resulted into me turning around, yelling horrible drunk things back at him and nearly ending up into a fight if it hadn’t been for my ex-boyfriend dragging me home (now I feel like I should mention that if you would know me you would also know that I am probably the least aggressive person you’ll ever meet, that night was an exception). Alright, so, not long ago my best friend (whom I shall name Ally, because of her obsession with Pretty Little Liars) found this lovely lad on Tindr (the dating app) and started texting back and forth with him, resulting into agreeing to meet up that particular evening.

Once we had arrived at the club and Ally had found her guy I was left by myself, seeing as my other friend had also decided to run off with someone. Technically Ally wouldn’t have mind if I had stuck around with her and her guy, however awkward as I am I didn’t feel like third-wheeling that evening. Instead I went and ran into a friend from another university varsity team (Alias: Bear, because he is massive) who was out with his team and apparently told him, quote: “Bear, what do you say to getting absolutely obliterated tonight. Let’s not leave the club until we leave crawling” and he answered with his ever short but to the point reply: “Sure.” And so it was settled. Bear and I drank. And drank. And drank some more. We drank till the point that Bear ended up leaning against the wall somewhere in the corner of the club, hiding from me because he really couldn’t drink anymore (and let me underline once again, he is a reaally big guy) and me dancing in the middle of the floor, manically fluttering my arms around. Lovely image, right?

Eventually Ally found me back, realized how smashed I was and forced me to take a cab home. During the ride home I apparently just sat in the back, staring out of the window as Ally and my other friend chatted away. I use ‘apparently’ because from this point my memory is a black, empty, gaping hole and I have put the puzzle pieces together from the stories that my friends have told about me. According to Ally I asked the driver to stop the cab halfway our ride home, got out and literally sprinted away. For some reason I am a fucking Usain Bolt when I am drunk because both Ally and the cab driver couldn’t keep up with me and lost me. This was around three o’clock at night and I arrived home at five.

Basically, what happened in between (still not entirely certain of any of the following) is that I tripped a couple of blocks away from my house, hit my head on the pavement and was knocked out. But because my friends had no idea of where I was and because it was late at night I laid there, in the middle of the street for over an hour. When I got home I apparently sent Ally some very confusing texts, explaining that someone had woken me up and then finally fell asleep, fully clothed, on my bed.

The reason why I am telling this story is because I want to point out that with that blow, I probably disconnected another wire in my head (yes, another, because medically I actually have a disconnected wire in my brain, will get back to that one day) which will explain my actions of today. So since that blow I have been acting a bit weird in general, putting my phone in the fridge, calling people the wrong name and many more things. However, also, today when I decided to get a nice Iced Chai Thea Latte at my uni Starbucks and was standing in line, my eyes locked with another person standing behind me in line: Mr. Bingley. And I am honestly blaming the disconnection in my brain for the following event: so our eyes locked, it took me about 5.6 seconds to realize who I was staring at, to subsequently panic, leave the line and literally run… and I mean run out of Starbucks.

I can’t even begin to imagine what he must think of me after this fiasco, but I have the feeling I’d rather not know at all. Well if you guys don’t mind I will spend the rest of my evening hiding underneath my blankets and regretting my life choices.

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

Yours truly, Maple.

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diary, love, personal, relationship

Spaghetti Limbs

So, it is fair to say that I have not been the luckiest in neither my regular nor my love life. However, naturally because I am an adolescent girl – the love life seems to be bothering me the most. Today for example; I am part of a varsity sports team, which is just girls. Every week we have a social (for non-UK readers, a social is short for a social gathering where one plays drinking games and basically aims to get absolutely fucking battered even before leaving the residence. One scores extra points for being unable to enter a club due to being of yer trolley) and (as naive as I was) I was very much looking forward to some girl-bonding time or whatever the youth calls it nowadays.

This was about three weeks ago. However, silly as I am, I obviously did not end up spending my time with my teammates, but instead found myself in the arms of the boy’s captain the very next morning. I feel like I have to mention that at this point, I was still together with my first and probably last (now ex-) boyfriend, but I will get to that another time. 

Anyway, after that fiasco I figured that I didn’t need to see the captain (let’s call him Mr. Bingley, because I am a sucker for Pride & Prejudice) ever again, for we train on completely different times than the boys. However, for fortune hates me; they decided to practice on the same field at the same time today, because – god knows why? And let me tell you, I play absolutely horrible under pressure. The feeling of being watched, even though he was probably 100% not focused on me whatsoever, made me feel weak in my limbs. Which resulted into the following incident: at the end of every training we have a specially dedicated fitness part where we basically have to lunge ourselves onto the field, do a push-up and run to the other side, do a push-up and repeat that a fucking bazillion times. Yeah… that doesn’t work out very well with spaghetti limbs. So picture this; as the rest of my team was being extremely athletic and attractive, I managed to throw myself a little too roughly onto the field, scratch my leg open and to subsequently give in to my own body weight and lie there, face down, for the remains of the fitness session. 

Anyhoo, my arms are too tired to even type right now so, 

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

Yours truly, Maple.

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