Bollocks to dating, I’m packing it in.
After nearly ten months of being back on the dating scene I’m officially bored. I must have spent over a grand on it. I’ve wasted countless hours meeting people who after five minutes I never wanted to see again.
Dating fatigue has set in, the Tinder profile has gone, the app has been deleted. I’m going into a dating cocoon. I’m planning on emerging from my chrysalis later in the year, hopefully with bigger arms and less debt.
I’m out for my birthday on Saturday. It’s an excuse to wear my legendary silver trousers. I bought them in Camden in the late 1990s just before my first ever Bowie gig. They have been a cherished possession ever since.
I’ll be celebrating the big 2-6 at an indie club in Hackney. Maybe the trousers will give me an edge, maybe I’ll meet someone in person and not through an app, maybe we’ll snog on the dance floor as they play suede.
I can’t believe it has been a year since I last turned 26, it feels like longer.
Anyway, See yaz
Welcome to my most miserable post yet! Excited? Well grab yourself some Prozac and a Tramadol and we can get started.
Things have gone tits up since my last post ‘The Happiest New Year’
The hangover has kicked in, and it’s persistent. The love thermometer (that’s not a sex toy by the way) rose too quickly. It has blown up in my face (not a euphemism) and now there’s glass everywhere. I’m pretty sure no amount of uhu will be able to fix it.
This is even more disappointing than the Snowcoco Malibu. Even my new 50″ 3D TV telly hasn’t thrilled me as much as I’d hoped it would.
There’s always a plus side though, and here it is….
I had an unexpected surprise this morning. David Bowie has got a new album coming out. I thought I’d heard the last of him. The single, released today is called ‘Where are we now?’, what a strange coincidence. That’s exactly why I’ve been wondering since Friday morning.
When I was younger I was obsessed with the Thin White Duke. I bought the coat he wore in the Man who fell to earth. I used to watch Ziggy Stardust the motion picture with my mouth open, my eyes open even wider and my hand pressed against the screen.
I get very enthusiastic about the things I like. I met Adam Ant once and collapsed like a little girl at a beatles concert. I wasn’t a little girl at the time, I was a fully grown man in Scala at Kings Cross.
Right enough whining. I can’t dawdle, I’ve got television to make.