Uncategorized

The Love of Bare November Days

{Audio}

 

It’s the start of November and that means graduation week all over the country. Graduates come back to their university cities to accept their diploma’s and party. Mr. Bingley is a graduate. Thus it was a very welcome telephone call from my mother asking me to come home for the week. Immediately after the call I booked my tickets and threw some random bits and pieces into my suitcase and left.

I will be spending this start of November admiring the leaves turn gold instead of watching the grads turn old. I shall be feeling a cold November breeze whiffle through my hair instead of the burning sensation of alcohol through my throat as we celebrate their return. I shall smile at the touch of my mother’s arm around my shoulder instead of the shock that would run through my body as Mr. Bingley taps my shoulder.

Like Robert Frost once beautifully worded: ‘Not long ago I learned to know the love of bare November days.’ Bare translates to many different meanings but I relate to them all. Bare is without covering or content; barren, bleak, desolate, empty. Bare is simple and unadorned. And I feel myself doing exactly so; loving these bleak and simple November days. Because this bleakness feels safer than the hopefulness of a love that crumbles in the end. I prefer these simple days over any complications like we’ve known them.

Standard
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.

Standard
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.

Standard
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.

Standard
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.

Standard