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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diary, entry, personal

Just My Luck.

So, last Wednesday we had another social which didn’t go quite as planned. Like always there was a lot of alcohol involved and I don’t really want to get into it, but somehow I ended up flirting a lot with Mr. Bingley and eventually kissing him. Nothing very interesting apart form the fact that he somehow ended up getting back to mine. He lost his wallet and I did offer to take him home with the cab, but he clearly wanted to stay at mine, which I in turn didn’t particularly had a problem with. Some stupid cringy things were said from my part mostly because I was boozed and that’s when I say things I immediately regret. I also headbumped him 5 times and the firealarm continuously went off, so now, it wasn’t particularly romantic either. Anyhoo. Next morning, I woke up, noticed Mr. Bingley and freaked out for a moment. Luckily things didn’t get too awkward and we ended up cuddling and talking for quite a while. Not long after he got a taxi back to his house, preceded by VERY awkward goodbyes and I didn’t hear from him again.

The next day one of my friends from the team (Liz) asked me what happened with Mr. Bingley, because she had clearly saw us together so I explained to her that he stayed over but nothing had happened. As it happened, one of my other team mates was holding her phone as I was sending the message to Liz and it turned into a gossip between a couple of the girls. Quite unfortunate, but hey, nothing I could do about it.

Today I met up with Liz in town and as we were walking she casually mentioned that she overheard the girls saying that Mr. Bingley has a girlfriend. Apparently she assumed that I knew and caught me in total shock. No, I’m not devastated because I am crushing over him, because honestly I don’t really care. In that moment I just couldn’t believe that he could be so sneaky and I was very very disappointed in my own people-reading-skills. I’m not one to talk, because I did cheat on my boyfriend with HIM, however I was never sneaky about it and told my now ex-boyfriend straight away and broke up because to me that is clearly a sign that something is wrong. However, if there is nothing I hate more than liars and cheaters (in the way that they continuously do it behind their partner’s back, yes that might be hypocritical, but that is how I feel). So, long story short: I am going out tonight, forget about this whole thing and the next time I will see Mr. Bingley I will be very polite yet clear about the fact that I want no role in this whatsoever. I am disgusted. 

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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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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