In which I am reprimanding, opportunistic, and also, kind of a snob

....I AM alive! Do be patient with me, my dears. I had hoped to have tales to report from this weekend just gone, when I went on a big drunken girlie break, and was one of the few single girls there. Alas, the male specimens we encountered were not entirely my type, but in the state I was in, I don't imagine I would have been their type either!

Anyway, I’m not completely bereft of news, as this weekend, I’m (allegedly) going for the long-promised drink with The Marine . Following his rather inconsiderate means of cancelling on me last time, I sent him to purgatory for a week or so, ignoring his texts. Then, on a Saturday night a few weeks ago, I decided to thaw a little, when he texted again, asking me if I wanted to go to the cinema. Now while I obviously normally endeavour to spend my life in a perpetual state of being sociable, alert, charming, attractive and presentable (!), on this particular day I was exhausted, quasi-hungover, spotty, had minging limp hair, had spent the day running around and lugging bags about, and wanted nothing more than to have some dinner, a bath, and an early night. And if that makes me sound old, then old I be! So I thanked him, but politely declined, and then proceeded to give him a subtle but unmistakable bollocking for his lack of communication on that day we were meant to go out:

HIM: I’m really sorry it didn’t work out meeting up this week.
ME: That’s OK, it couldn’t be helped. Might have been nice if you’d let me know though. HIM: What do you mean?
Still not getting it? Do I need to use flashcards? OK.....

ME: On Weds, when you couldn’t make it, I didn’t hear a thing from you, so I didn’t know what was going on at all until it got to the end of work, and I thought: ‘right, looks like I’m going home then!’ HIM: I know, I thought I might make it, but she was really ill. ME: Oh dear, poor thing... And that was being sincere, by the way! I’m not that mean. ....Always nice to know for definite though! HIM: I know, I’m really sorry. ME: That’s OK. Bollocking over. HIM: Yay!
Ha. Always nice to reduce a member of the armed forces to their knees (like I’ve done it before(!))

So anyway, if time, tide and childhood germs do not conspire against us, I shall be meeting The Marine this Saturday for a drink. I think we’ll get on quite well, we seem to banter quite well in texts and emails, but we’ll see what happens in person. Again, and not to labour the point, but I would honestly be surprised if I fancied him. The ultra-muscly look has never done it for me (as a quick glance at all my ex-boyfriends can attest), plus I don’t find him that attractive. But you never know, do you? Meeting people is what this year’s experiment is all about.

Well, that and free dinner...

....what?? I’m skint!


In the meantime though, 'tis St Patrick's Day! To mark the occasion (since I never have done before), me and my fellow couldn't-be-less-Irish-if-we-tried chum D are heading out to an appropriately green-festooned, Guinness-serving pub somewhere in London. Might my first ever encounter with an Irish frog be in the offing? I shall report back....