SO, my pics are auto-posting across from Instagram now and, fucking hell, what a weekend.
I get so happy from clubbing! I get so much from dancing to music that I love, bonding with random people while screaming Title Fight at each other, hanging with my mates and watching them deal very sternly with dodgy blokes creeping on them.
And there were so many peeps out this weekend who I haven’t seen in aaaages, like Court, above. I thought Valentine’s weekend would be a bag of wank but it’s the best time I’ve had in… well… I’m not sure!
When I look at the mirror at my conventionally very unattractive male body (no rippling abs here, no lovely toned arms), I’m so happy that my body lets me dance two or three times a week, that I’m able to have adventures and stay up till 6am talking shit with strangers. It’s fucking amazing, when I think about it. After seeing both my parents go through near-fatal cancers, I love my body in a way I never did before. It’s beautiful, I love it.
And, one day, I’ll probs be too old to get let into clubs or too infirm to go dancing. That’s why I’m making the most of every moment I can. And consciously aware of every choice I make, when I approach someone new, the possibilities that open up. When I don’t, the universes that wither and die. You never know.
Now, if I could just meet a woman who lived for dancing and chaos and the stochastic joy of clubbing as much as I do… *imagines*
I’ve noticed this recently. The McVities jaffa cakes are rank now; they seem smaller overall and the orangey bit is pathetically tiny. Also, the base is all bleurgh and squishy. The base of the Sainsbury’s Basics jaffa cake is crisp and then soft inside, like a jaffa cake is meant to be.
The test of a pukka jaffa, which I’ve been carrying out weekly since I was around five, is how easily the biscuit bears up to being disassembled. Piggling the choc off the top and then separating the organgey bit from the sponge… mmm…
The Sainsbury’s Basic biccie passes the test easily. But, though it’s possible with the McVities, it just make me angry and question all of existence when I get to the tiny orange bit.
As much as I slag off Ok Cupid, it’s light years ahead of Plenty Of Fish.
My “matches” on POF are the most random array of very pretty but completely dull and incompatible people. I’ll see someone who’s really cute, my finger will hover over the ‘Message Now!’ linky but I’ll never press it because, really, what is the point.
And please FOR THE LOVE OF FUCK, stop going about drinking wine by a roaring fire and great fucking long walks in the countryside and fucking Zumba and fucking Bodypump… fucking hell…
I know I’m a weirdo but POF just makes me feel like there’s no-one who actually reads or goes on demonstrations or goes clubbing or does ANYTHING AT ALL.
Most profiles have zero interests. That’s right, these people have no interests whatsoever.
That’s gonna make for a fucking scintillating date, innit?