I've started writing a song...

but currently it has no music. And no title.

In an attempt to be cooler in your eyes

I told you lies

I told you lies

When really it was clear for all to see

You were wrong for me

Wrong for me

Strutting along to a zeitgist only you could see

Intimidating me

Intimidating me

You are

all hot air and treble

all hot air and treble

all hot air

and trouble

no bass line to hook on to

no groove to anchor against

no bass line to hook on to

no groove to anchor against

in an attempt to be cooler in your eyes

i told you lies

i told you lies

You are

all hot air and treble

all hot air and treble

all hot air

and trouble

So today has been pretty boring. Woke up this morning feeling a bit down in the dumps as another weekend of nothingness looms. Wish I could shake this feeling off. Wish I could get over him as quickly as he has gotten over me.

Clarke x

Can you be friends once you’ve been to bed? (Part II)

Okay, so maybe now I am being forced to eat my words of yesterday. Sitting here typing this the day after I met him, I am seriously reconsidering my previous positive posting... I guess you can be friends if you were friends to start off with. But not if the glue that held your relationship together was purely sexual.

Last night, it was clear to me as soon as I saw him, that we were still attracted to each other. From the moment he set eyes on me to the point we said goodbye, there was electricity in the air.

We went to a pub near Liverpool St. Where we had some wine, caught up on four weeks worth of news and tried to out-do each other in the whole "I'm leading a more exciting life without you" stakes. We were mean to each other in a way we never were. But there was also honesty there. Honesty that was severely lacking in the relationship.

Dinner was brought up. Against my better judgement I said yes. Sitting there next to him in the restaurant, he fed me sausage and mash (no double entendre here), he fed me the way he used to when he was my boyfriend. Everything was the same, and yet, it was different. Because, I was different.

The guy sitting next to me last night wasn't the guy I thought I was in love with. He wasn't even close. Sometimes I wonder just how much of him I imagined and how much of him was real. Did I only see what I wanted to see? Is love, or in this case, lust, truly blind?

He tried to sleep with me. Tried to coax me into doing the things I would have done without a moment's hesitation when we were together. I could feel myself weakening (I am a flawed being; don't judge me) but when push came to shove (entendre intended in this case)... I walked away. Leaving him just outside the escalators at Liverpool St Station, I kissed him goodbye. He asked if he could see me again.

Should I see him again? Is this prolonging the death of us? Or a lame attempt to resuscitate something which was born dead? And so, doesn't really have the right to live. In my imagination or anywhere else.

So many questions. I fear last night has only made my thinking even more befuddled.

Only time can tell if we can be friends. Maybe the chemistry will never disappear. Or maybe, one day it will.

I cried all the way home on the train. Because the scales have finally fallen from my eyes. The boy has clay feet.

Clarke x

Can you be friends once you’ve been to bed? (Part I)

I say yes...

Lois abandoned me last week-end as she jet-setted off to a lovely skiing break. So there I was, on my lonesome, with Friday off and the need to do something crazy on Thursday night. An idle mind is indeed the devil's workshop.

I decided to see my favourite boy GPBK on Thurs night as I needed to check out this place to hold my birthday party. There has always been chemistry between GPBK and me, and one hot sunny evening last June, we decided to do something about it.

Since then, our friendship has grown stronger (I no longer subscribe to the adage that you can’t be friends once you’ve been to bed)… something I once again decided to put to the test.

Armed with condoms, I met him at a bar. We watched the Tottenham game (my ex is a die-hard Arsenal supporter, what better way to obliterate him than by sleeping with the enemy), we drank lots and lots. Moved on to another bar, where we bought champagne, danced and, as if by magic, kissed.

So one light touch on the lips turned into a full-blown snog and there we were, swaying to the music, holding each other and kissing like there was no tomorrow. I would like to say that none of this was pre-planned, but unfortunately, I can’t. I knew this was what was going to happen. I planned everything to the final detail. And the plan worked. Deliciously well.

I have to say the act itself wasn’t as memorable as I was hoping it would be. But, it hasn’t made me feel any worse about myself. It hasn’t made me feel better though. I’m still the same. Except that maybe I feel a bit more powerful.

Seeing ex tonight. Should be interesting. I have parcel in bag. I fear this will be the last time we see each other.

Clarke x

Dairy products

I had a strange dream about him last night... we were at a party, his ex was there as were some of his friends and we were all sat around a table having dinner.

He was at the head of the table and I was at the foot... then his ex went over to him and slipped him this note at the same time as one of his friends slipped me another note.

My note read "you are both sitting here being miserable, why don't you just talk and sort it out. We can't bear to see you like this..." and I knew his note read the same thing.

We both looked up at each other at the same time and he got up, walked towards me as I did the same and we both hugged and he cried and then we were on the floor and he was on top of me really crying as I stroked his head...

I woke up crying. Really strange. Not sure what it means, if anything. possibly had too much ice-cream last night. Bloody dairy products.

Thing is I can sit here and analyse 'til the cows come home and I will be no closer to the truth.

Lois and I were meant to go to a gig last night but we only made it as far as the pub round the corner, where we had some wine and chatted. It was nice and relaxing and the food was lovely. I went home feeling happy, chilled out and hopeful.

It's pretty cool hanging out with her. We went through a bit of a rough patch a few months back and there was a real fear that our friendship may have petered out. It's a testament to the power of love (the true, deep, enriching sort that friends have) that we're here today.

Clarke x

Stupid things

So I did the stupidest thing ever. I emailed him to see if he wanted to meet up for a drink as I wanted to pass the present to him. Did also mention that I could post it if he wanted but he said a drink would be good. So now I am going to see him on Monday. Yikes.

Clarke x

Weekends

Our intrepid duo were at a loose end last weekend. Which is how they found themselves in the middle of the M25, looking for the M1 and the A414.

Clarke: Wrong turn! Wrong turn! We should have stayed on this road.
Lois: It's okay. We'll get there.
Clarke: I think I am going to have a panic attack
Lois: Shut up.

Eventually they found the place (thanks for NOTHING Google maps). Checked in. Checked out pretty sharpish after eagle-eyed Lois spotted a stained toilet seat (DO NOT ASK). Got themselves another room. Sat looking at the walls for a good ten minutes.

Lois: So what shall we do now, shall we explore the grounds?
Clarke: Argh. Must we?
Lois: Yes, lets.

So the plucky pair investigate. A few minutes of ungainly teetering in the freezing cold ensues.. Just enough time for Clarke to light up and for Lois to harangue her about the dangers of nicotine.

Lois: Let's have a drink.
Clarke: Oooh, lets.
Lois: Champagne?
Clarke: No. I don't want champagne.

30 minutes later.

Clarke: Shall we get another bottle of champagne?

Slightly tiddly on champagne they proceed to dress for dinner. Lois tries on a million different tops. Clarke watches Hollyoaks. She agonises over whether OB should have gone to London instead of staying with Max in Chester. Decides this really isn't something that should bother her.

Dinner is accompanied by two more bottles of the fizzy stuff. Tears are shed over losers. Food is consumed with great relish. A small tantrum ensues when Clarke finds her steak is well-done instead of rare as requested. She tucks into Lois's red pepper risotto (not a mushroom in sight).

They saunter over to the bar, still in thrall to the wonders of champagne. Lois gets chatted up by two dishy young men. Clarke is stuck talking to the chef who invites himself to her bed to make up for the steak fiasco. As if she would sleep with someone who can't differentiate between rare and well-done. Fool.

It turns out that the dishy men are at a murder mystery birthday party. The outlandish outfits now make sense. Lois and Clarke gatecrash the party. Are stared down by the female pack of the party but as they are now well-oiled, they are oblivious.

Dishy men talk. Clarke is bored and can tell Lois is bored. The spell is broken when Dish 2 (who by now has decided to woo Clarke with tales of his drugged out travels in Australia) attempts to invite himself to her bed. As if she would sleep with someone who wears safari suit. Fool.

The lovely ladies make their escape clattering down the corridors at 3am. Get into their pjs. Lois takes pictures of Clarke doing star-jumps on the bed. Catches the pivotal moment on camera just before Clarke's head hits the ceiling with a resounding thud. Clarke falls over in pain. Lois falls over laughing. She is in hysterics. Tears are streaming down her face. Clarke wonders why she has yet to get any sympathy. Is stunned at the violence of Lois's reaction. Contemplates slapping her. Decides against it.

Clarke falls asleep to the sound of Lois's muffled giggles.

Clarke x

Bugger forward planning

His birthday present which I had ordered ages ago arrived in the office this morning. I had forgotten all about it.

As much as I rant and rave and write lists and craft insults, I miss him. And that is what kills. Bigtime.

Clarke x

Insults

He is all hot air and treble; no bass line to hook on to and no groove to anchor against. Relationship-shy geek who will never be able to affirm that he's actually part of a couple - perpetually hanging out, perpetually seeing someone - he doesn't even have the backbone to end a relationship definitively. He lives his life by the comma. Never the full stop. And I pity him.

Clarke x

He bought me a Valentine's Day card...

Clarke found it in my car, placed just out of my view. He must have hidden it in there. It said 'I smile when I think of you' or words to that effect. How strange. After six years and all the fighting he can still smile. Good for him. It hasn't all been a waste of time then. I mean, what sort of non-emotion is smile? Not happy, not sad... just a smile. What weird wording. What a strange card to give to your now ex-girlfriend of six years who you had planned to be with for the rest of your life. I don't get it. Am I over-analysing? Possibly.

Friends

So last night wasn't as bad as I thought it was going to be. I think the fact that I was very hungover helped a lot as I was too exhausted to think about what he would be doing and what things would have been like if we were still together. Instead I made myself some soup, grabbed a comforter and sat on my sofa watching TV until it was time to go to bed.

One thing this whole period has taught me is that I have some bloody amazing friends. I knew they were special, but the way everyone has called, emailed and texted me to make sure I am okay has made me see that there is more to life than loving a boy who will never love me the way I love him. That there are people out there who think I am special enough to spend time with and if he can't see that, well, then he doesn't deserve to be in my life.

The girls...
JR - my fellow loop queen who can lift my spirits with a single, cruel, sharply delivered line.
MT - a proper grown-up mum of three who still finds the time to call me in between ferrying her daughters to various classes and writing her book.
KK - from whom I get wisdom, a sense of perspective and confidence that there is nothing wrong with me.
LMN - Half the world away from me her grasp on the important things in life have made me see sense when I've been wallowing in a pool of self-pity.

Then there are the boys...
SW - spectacled and witty, warm and ever optimistic, he gives me hope
GL -who pretends he doesn't care and constantly tries to get in my pants but has a heart of gold and a well-hidden caring side.
AL - A fellow Arsenal fan (I use that word loosely when it comes to describing myself) and cricket lover with the driest sense of humour.
JM - giver of great hugs and cuddles and president of the 'Let's fatten Clarke up' club.
GAL - his wide boy tales and cheeky chappy persona belie hidden depths. Also has a tendency to flash me when I least expect it.
PM - vice-president of the 'Let's fatten Clarke up' club, he cooks me lovely food, kisses my forehead every time he comes home and has gone out of his way to make sure I am okay.
LJM - Moody, irritable with no social skills or graces. But has all the time in the world for me. Who ferries me to the station when I cannot be bothered to walk. Who brings me eggs and omelette ingredients when he knows I haven't had time to go shopping. Who calls at least once a week and will always be a part of my life.
G-P-B-K - My favourite boy. Ever.

And then there's Lois. And she knows how I feel about her.

I am a lucky girl. I really am.

Clarke x

Laughing

"All boys that wear skinny jeans think too much of themselves, but not enough of themselves to buy clothes that fit"

From a posting on a thread. Just really made me laugh. That blog is in no way similar to this one. Still made me laugh. Hard .

http://blogs.guardian.co.uk/travelog/2008/02/skins_blog.html


Clarke x

Making a list

It’s Valentine’s Day and I am feeling null and void. I think it’s going to be bath and bed for me tonight. On a cheerier note though, I was at the most amazing club last night, with a bunch of people who made me laugh, dance, drink lethal cocktails and generally forget to be sad. Which is always a good thing.

A friend also came up with a brilliant, if rather cruel idea, of compiling a list of things I dislike about him and to keep looking at the list every time I feel melancholy.

So here it is, in all its barrel-scraping glory

a) He sounds like a pixie when he talks (this is not something I've noticed but something other people have since told me).

b) His love of Americanisms.

c) The fact that he is nearly 36 and still continues to work the skinny jeans when he should start wearing proper clothes.

d) He talks about his ailments, ranging from eczema (eggs-zeem-ah) to shoulder/back pains and expensive dental work.

e) His usage of "see how it goes" which I may have mentioned in a previous posting.

To be honest, the only thing on that list that actually bothered me was, and is, e.

Which sums up everything that was wrong with our relationship.

Clarke x

a)

c)

e

Up and down days

It’s weird how things hit you when you least expect them to. I thought I was doing okay after the other night’s marathon crying session (waking up on Saturday morning with two swollen eyes) and then, today, on the bus, listening to Arcade Fire and tears start streaming down my face. So there I am, with Neon Bible belting into my ears and it takes all my willpower not to start sobbing into the shoulder of the poor old lady who decides to sit next to me.

What saddens me most now is that I can no longer listen to certain bands without thinking of him. Damien Rice is a no go because it reminds me of the first festival I went to with him when the sun shone and I felt like I was finally getting a chance to be myself. Arcade Fire because they played the last night of the festival, when fireworks went off in the sky and he kissed me hard on the lips, Beirut, a band he introduced me to who were, for a long time, the soundtrack to my daily commute to work, Prinzehorn Dance School, another ‘him’ band we saw at what was the best festival I’ve ever been to…sounds and songs and feelings that I need to slowly reintroduce into my life.

I know I need to move on. Enough people have told me this enough times. The only thing that’s keeping me from telling him the truth about the way I feel is my doubt that he feels the same. And as much as I like him, I have some pride.

I hold it true, whate'er befall;
I feel it, when I sorrow most;
'Tis better to have loved and lost
Than never to have loved at all.

Currently, I am thinking Tennyson is a moron.

Clarke x

Where to go from here?

OK. 31 is not a good age to be single. I’m thinking most people are married (and have the divorces yet to come) with children. I have neither kids (shudder) or a man. I know that this should bother me more than what it does. But I’ve got a back-up plan. If Clarke goes getting hitched, my sister is single. I’m gonna buy us some rocking chairs and me some earplugs (she can talk the hind legs off a donkey) and buy a property with a porch.I mean, after six years, where do you go? What do you do? If anyone knows the answer, let me know. Lois

A little bit of history

Clarke's Story.

Clarke is 28. She was seeing someone for just over a year, when during what, for her, was meant to be a conversation discussing where things were going (Clarke's boyfriend had the unfortunate habit of saying "Let's see how it goes" every time he was faced with a question regarding the relationship) turned out to be a Sunday where she found out her now ex-boyfriend had

a) a problem committing
b) thought that their interests were too different
c) could not deal with emotional issues

Clarke couldn't deal with this. She knew there were things in the relationship that weren't progressing naturally but she didn't know that instigating what should have been a discussion would end up with her facing a bleak life as a single.

Since she was 13, Clarke has never been single, except for three months during her 19th year when she had a very bad case of chicken pox and didn't really want anyone to see her with her pock-marked face and skin.

Clarke is 28. Clarke is single. Clarke is scared.

Breaking up is hard to do

Through some strange twist of fate, my best friend and I found that we were both single within a few days of each other.

She had just ended a six-year relationship and I had instigated the end of mine exactly a week after... something that we hadn't discussed with each other.

Since then, we've had to find new things to do that didn't involve boys, thinking about boys, wishing we were still with our boys, crying into our cosmopolitans thinking of said boys...

After exhausting all the possibilities our local cineplex had on offer, Best Friend and I are venturing way out of our comfort zones.

But first we need to talk about the cineplex. The saviour during the first few dark weeks of our respective break-ups...

Clarke x