He’s a fucking boudoir photographer!

I only asked his how his fucking job was going. Arrogant son of bitch. Surely its not too difficult to just lie and just say “yeah, life’s pretty wonderful”. The girl who’s heart you once broke in a text whilst she was on a commuter train doest need a photographic update of your latest conquest. Better yet she doesn’t need soft porn images of the latest whore on the bed you once fucked her in. But yet i seem to gravitate towards gargantuan arseholes who will do exactly this.

He’s quit his job, a well paid job, to become an amateur wedding and “boudoir” photographer. Essentially that means he’s packed in a great life to shag easy girls who are willing to take their clothes off. Sure, its a great life if you can do it well but if you’re choosing girls who can’t tell their left from right something’s gone drastically wrong.

I haven’t heard from him in months and at first talking seemed like it used to be. He reminded me that he loved me and that felt like a giant slap to the face. But the semi nude pictures of a girls reflection in the mirror he once had me in front of is just rudeness and selfless. Then again that always was his style…something I was probably attracted to in the first place.

Anyway, he was out of reach then and feels even more so now. Yet, I feel I have the upper hand….being moderately rude about his pictures and saying how great it was to hear about his latest conquest rather than all the interesting things we used to discuss. So it’s probably 22-3 to him in the final scores and that’s a bloody rugby score.

Inspiration for the additional need to loose a billion stone and get a sodding job and get on with life has kicked in a little more. I will wait for the curry and several pints of beer to wear off and start tomorrow.

September 8th

Job 13th August

I have so much anxiety. I feel I am a very anxious person anyway. I never like to offend but I normally do and I have to be early for things. I’m so anxious I walk in an aggressive manner or with my feet so stretched so I get to places quicker. And I never, ever not like knowing where I am or where I am going.

I’m not a planner but if there isn’t something in place there fucking should be. It’s just childish if you don’t have a plan.

Today my angst is worse. I have a job interview in two days. It’s my first ever so I don’t know what to expect and I don’t understand what I really have to do. There is an English test, a presentation on a life achievement and then 30 more minutes of them talking at me or more likely me talking shite at them.

First I don’t know where to park or which entrance to use.
Second I swear too much when nervous.
Third what if they don’t like me.
Fourth I really can’t spell.
Fifth…what could I possibly have achieved in life so far that merits a whole 15 minute conversation/presentation.
Sixth what to wear?
Seventh what questions will they ask.

I’m gonna fail at this and I hate knowing that I won’t do well. But I want the job so I must focus and prepare.

Sodding anxiety.

Claddagh Ring

I feel i’ve been fucked over by yet another guy. Although this time it was one of my old friends so I feel even more frustrated. I have had enough, I am so so bored and I’ve decided it has to be me. I am picking the wrong men and my vagina and my head are sick of it. My heart is failing me and so today I bought myself a Claddagh Ring. I hope it provides me with clarity, passion and the ability to stop fucking with myself. 

I thought this time it could work for more than 3 shags and once again it hasn’t. And for once I really don’t think I have done anything wrong. So thats it…Claddagh Ring on and I have to stop. 

No more fucking guys from bars, friends roommates, strangers or flirting with girls boyfriends. Sex is no longer an option. I have a vibrator and to be honest that does it better. 

So sex, falling in love or just feeling that this time it could maybe work is done. I am 22, I do not need to be finding a husband or someone who I can live with. I want to learn italian, buy nice clothes, eat excellent food. I pick the wrong men so I pick myself. 

10.8.13

It seriously can’t get any worse.

I wish being twenty two was easy but it just isn’t. Everyone is in competition for jobs, boyfriends and having the smallest gut. I fail at all of these things. Even my skinny high waited jeans make me look huge and this is suppose to be impossible according to the Topshop adverts. Jobless graduate is hardly appealing either. And spotty ginger just tops the bill.

Watching Bridget Jones angers me because her diary really isn’t that bad. Renee doesn’t even need those fucking granny pants anyway and no where does she explain just how uncomfortable they are to wear! If I was to ever take my clothes off in front of a man wearing those I’m sure they’d tell me to jog on not make me cum. At the beginning of the film (because I cannot be arsed to read the book) when Renee is sat alone singing “all by myself” surrounded in a pile of her own filth i am reminded that this scene seems to be my life on permanent replay. Today for example I did nothing again but I did make fish pie which them turned into a molten lava mess whilst sat surrounded by magazines and an unmade bed.

Life isn’t falling apart, of course, I just want to complain about it even more than I already do. I feel my twenties are a time when I should be exploring my potential yet currently all I find myself doing is criticising my past exploration. Men are pissing me off, the weather is pissing me off, this town is pissing me off then the fact that a few days ago it was sunny, i loved my town and I was having sex seems so irrelevant today. Swings and roundabouts of depression are inevitable at this junction of my twenties but it’s really starting to fuck me off!

I have beautiful, smart, funny friends who I love dearly however I always find myself in a jealous haze whenever near them. After three years apart at university I find I love my old friends even more and now we have graduated I suppose we we are all in the same boat. But this isn’t true! They have steady relationships, don’t need to loose two and a half stone and seem to be finding new work relatively easily. And even the people I used to know and love (who I can no longer even drum up enough to say hello to at the pub) seem to be doing great in life and I resent that/them even more!!

I’m having sex with a guy I’ve known forever and I’m not sure if that’s a good or bad plan but none the less I hope it continues. I’ve learnt so much about myself through recent flings…mainly that I’m a bit of a slag but more so that I really need to start standing up for myself and not feeling like a complete twat driving a guy back to his at 2 in the morning because he desperately wants to leave because he’s ‘petrified’….that’s an actual quote from a recent.

Job hunting is laborious and a constant reminder of how little I can do. A need to have experience without anyone offering experience is soul destroying. McDonald’s seems appealing after a week of looking at jobs that I could do but after applying asking myself do I actually want to do that?!

I promise I will start ‘doing’ tomorrow. I have told myself this everyday since June 6th when university started to slow down and I prepared myself for running away to America. This is a long time ago and I still haven’t started ‘doing’. I want to start writing down my Bridget Jones moments in the hope that it encourages me every day to get off my arse and achieve something.

Fingers crossed…No fucking hope!