I'm much much better now physicaly, never mind that being trapped in my sickbed, apart from when I have to take the dogs out in my PJs, for three weeks has made me go a bit twitchy and mental. I've watched a lot of DVDs, had a lot of sympathy from some nice internet boys and necked enough cold and flu remedies to keep GlaxoSmithKline in gold buttons for the next 15 years. However, I've also been trawling my internet dating site looking for likely boys to distract me for a lack of anything else to really be getting on with and thus have ended up with a bit of a glut of interchangeable boys on my messenger most of whom I have no reccolection of speaking to and at least some of whom I've had repulsive phone sex with at one stage or another. Even when ill, I have needs (by the way, a million nerd points for anyone who gets the refferecnce in that link). So it would seem a little rude for me to either, completly block them or a bit of an embarasment Russian Roulette to ask them who they are and what we last talked about. I'm temepted to just bin that login and start a new, less sluttish one, new leaf login. My friend iamwearingahat complains she can't find enough boys she has even a passing interest in when plowing the profiles, my problem seems to be that I can find too many. Perhaps I am a cheep, standardless whore and iamwearingahat is a high-minded virginal paragon of virtue. Having said that, perhaps I am a darling who sees the good in everyone and she's an over fussy, judgmental cow (ha!). Who can say?
Book boy has been coming up trumps in the sending me reads in the post thing. I got through the horrificly enjoyable Dragon Lance lot and another one of my childhood obbsesions Archer's Goon. Do all bookish middle class children get obsessed with the same novels? From the cross over with me and book boy, I would have to say so. His misanthropy and mocking sence of humor seem even to have been taken over by his enthusiasm to share baby books with me. I'm going to start sending him some of mine soon, I think.
Cuban man has also been a darling, sending me flowers and Ameretti biscuits in place of acutaly coming to see me as he has a proper grown up job and things to be getting on with. I really like sending people things and spent a lot of today making presents for the people who looked after me which I shall wack in the post as a thank you. I tried to pack them all in (fake) crusty bog roll as an illness/tissue paper joke, but it didn't quite work. All in all, if you've got to be ill, you may as well do it with lovely people to help you through.

I'm still a bit housebound and am waiting for the next installment of comforting books from book boy, so to pass the endless hours of staring sickly at my bedroom celling I've done some of those personality assements things on my internet dating site. Here is their wisdom.

Personality Assessment:

Personality Key Words
Influential, optimistic, friendly, verbal, positive, competitive, assertive, active, mobile, alert, strong-willed and independent.

Personality Traits: Enthusiastic and confident, ENDLESSWEEKS gets along quite easily with others. Not afraid to embrace her personality to the fullest, ENDLESSWEEKS's optimism and inquisitive style are reflected in her love of accepting a challenge. Striving for personal and common goals is important to her, and although she isn't afraid to stand behind her opinions, ENDLESSWEEKS likes to interact in a friendly way with others.

Relationship Motivation: ENDLESSWEEKS strives to be accepted and well-liked by her peers. She is motivated by democratic relationships, positive environments and prestige. Challenging experiences are also important.

Relationship Strengths: ENDLESSWEEKS's greatest contribution to a relationship lies in her natural ability to interact positively with people and her drive to find happiness in life. She is, therefore, an excellent companion willing to help others pursue their interests as well as her own. ENDLESSWEEKS can make positive impressions and generate enthusiasm, and she loves to accept challenges, venture into the unknown and seek out fresh perspectives.

Here's another:

The Peach Random Gentle Love Master (RGLMf)     Playful, kind, and well-loved, you are The Peach.     For such a warm-hearted, generous person, you're surprisingly experienced in both love and sex. We credit your spontaneous side; you tend to live in the moment, and you don't get bogged down by inhibitions like most women your age. If you see something wonderful, you confidently embrace it. Your exact opposite: The Nymph Deliberate Brutal Sex Dreamer     You are a fun flirt and an instant sweetheart, but our guess is you're becoming more selective about long-term love. It's getting tougher for you to become permanently attached; and a guy who's in a different place emotionally might misunderstand your early enthusiasm. You can wreck someone simply by enjoying him.     Your ideal mate is adventurous and giving, like you. But not overly intense. DREAD: The False Messiah CONSIDER: The Loverboy, The Playboy, or The Boy Next Door Link: The 32-Type Dating Test by OkCupid - Free Online Dating. My profile name: endlessweeks

They both seem pretty spot on actually. Particualry erie is "a guy who's in a different place emotionally might misunderstand your early enthusiasm. You can wreck someone simply by enjoying him", I hear that a lot from people and worry about it pretty often too, it's easy to break someone's heart, especialy at my age when lots of folks are on the lookout for 'the one' and I'm not. But anyway, how much of this personality test stuff is simply suggestion, I wonder? Who doesn't have "drive to find happiness in life"? Who would disagree with the idea that they're "willing to help others persue their interests in a realationship" Even if they're not, they're hardly going to want to put their hand up to "likes to be miserable and has drive to be consistantly unhappy in life" or "selfish and uninterested in doing things with partner", even in private. Do they just stuff a load of statements in that petty much apply to everyone and hope that people will discount the one or two that are blatently jarring? But then there's all that Myers Briggs malarky about narrowing people into a certain number of personality types and reductive as it may seem, it's all backed up by lots of testing a phsycologists and very accurate seeming.
I think if you took my Myers Briggs result, my starsign and a description of combined type ADHD then you'd pretty much have me down.
It's sort of a bit like starsign stuff too. I know all the reasoned arguments as to why astrology is clearly a load of old bollocks, but then there are some things that have worked out freakishly acurate to the extent that I'm not prepared to utterly discount it. 4 of my 10 closest friends are Scorpios, 4 are other Aquarians and the other two are both Virgos. It could easily be a coincidence at this one stage in my life but over the whole of my life nearly all of my close friends have been one of those 3 signs and the only person significant to me (ex of 8 years) that hasn't had a compatable sun sign has been later found to have an almost identical chart to mine, apart from said sun sign An occurance that is particularly rare according to my aunt who does that stuff proffesionaly.
I suppose it's just a mixture of narrasism, boredom and need to be understood that makes all these things so addicitve, and why I defintley feel a slight hidden twinge of shame when doing them.
Anyway, this is all a bit of a tangent and I mustn't get caught up in it any furthur. Less wooly blogs coming up in the future, promise.

Ok, for all of those fasicnated by the sate of my health, an update: I'm a bit better. Being the overbearing but caring type Cuban boy made me go to the Doctor who told me I had a really nasty cold picked up because my immune system had been weakened from the weirdy virus thingy and that I should take some Asprin and lie down a lot. Which is what I had been doing. And the reason I didn't think it was worth going to the Doctor. Last time I indulge Cuban boy's fatherly and vaugely patronising ministrations. I'll stop going on and on about being ill now, promise.
In news that is actually relevant to this blog and not a big moan on my part, I think I've found a method of dating even more effective than web dating. Honestly, all my dating worries could be over with not a monthly subscription or a slew of random men calling me sexy and adding me to their messenger lists in sight. I'd be cruel and heartless blogger not to share my exciting new method with you.
Behold my mystical secret...

Two labradors. Total lovely, licky, over exuberant boy magnets and they're mine all mine for the next few months. They are my friend Laura's and I'm looking after them whilst she goes away. There are many reasons I won't be giving them back. Firstly, they sleep in my bed with me at night, nuzzle my neck on the sofa and are pleased to see me when I get in. Secondly, I can dress them in silly hats and different kinds of underwear then make them parade around, sit up and beg then fetch things without having to hear all that "immasculation" twadle. I took them to the park today and I saw three, that's right, three lovely outdoorsy, responsible pet owning boys. One of whom I had an excelent game of dog breed punning which was won with the untopable 'labradorable'. The unbeaten heavy weight champion of the world in dog breed puns, i'm sure you'll agree. Punning man was called Brefni (do we think he might be Welsh)? He has two West Highland Terriers, which are yappy, stupid little fuckwits but don't deter from the fact that he is hilarious and handsome. I asked him about the best parks for dogs in the area, I assume this is the expericanced dog owners equivalent to "what's a nice handsome, eligable boy like you doing in a council run, fly blown park like this"? He said he only really comes to the particualr park we were in at the time, a clear come on if ever I heard one (clearly I haven't heard one before, but I'm desparate) so I shall be planning my doggy visits to try and coincide with him in future. The other nice boy had a lovely 57 VARIETIES mongrel, complete with spots, stripes and a brush tail so he wins points for not being a kennel club wanker and the final nice boy had what looked like a ridegback, but I didn't talk to him as I was starting to feel a bit sweaty and sick from being out of bed for more than 10 minutes in a row. The point remains though, having a dog is totally the way to pick up boys. More as it comes.

Aw, strike me down for being such a grumpy old bag about boys the other day. Cuban boy came round to tend to me this afternoon. And very nice it was too. I'm still a bit ill, but it's at that annoying phase now where I'm ok as long as I don't try and do anything strenuous like sit up or go to the toilet. I am really glad I met cuban boy, I know I don't talk about him much but I see him quite a lot and he always makes me smile. Also, I finished the book sent to me by my misanthropic indie boy and sent it back to him. He sent me a new one, which I discovered by having cuban boy present it to me after picking it up from the hall when he arrived, ow. It was Dragons of Autumn Twilight a horrible, trite, fantasy novel of the kind we've both shamefacedly admitted to loving in our impresionable youths. So I had trashy novels from book boy coupled with grapes, cuddles and sympathy from my Cuban friend. It really cheered me up and I'm feeling very warm and fluffy toward online dating for introducing me to these lovely boys.
Anyway, I've realised I don't talk about Cuban boy really at all and I've not really said anything about what he's actualy like. For the curious I shall attempt to describe him. Cuban boy is a large, hairy, alpha male-y type boy who hates to be ignored, has to be the centre of attention and has a very large but massivley fragile ego. I know it makes him sound like a bit of a dick, but he isn't really. One of the main arguments that he's not a one hundred percent apha twat is that he likes me and I am hardly a pushover. He deals with my stupid bratty practical jokes really well too. My taking him to a vegetarian restauranton our first date, my habit of putting marmite on all food I ever give him to convince him of how wrong he is about Marmite being foul and the particularly annoying one of repetedly calling him 2 minutes before we're supposed to meet, telling him I'm late/miles away/not coming and then ringing the doorbell/knocking on the window/brininging him a drink. He has dreadful sleep apnea too and is always on this very strange sleeping zombie autopilot when he wakes up, not really knowing what he's doing and depending on habit and having things laid out right the night before to get him through. I like to be supportive of this dreadful and debilitating condition by replacing his sensible black work socks with pink ceneile princess/fairy ones and putting buicuits iced with offensive slogans (a bastardidsed version of my friend artist Betty's 'Buiscuits of Truth' series. See below, strapline: Technicaly true, but so much more paletable on a busicuit) in his lunch box. Favorites include "Fight Club is shit" "MaCalister (his boss) is a knob" and "football is bent". I think taking all that juvanile twattery on the chin is the sign of a really decent human, frankly. His favorite pastime is pontification, he likes cooking elaborate and dreadfully rich unhealthy dinners for aynone within spitting distance and once spanked me whilst reading out loud and essay on Rothko's ideas on artisitic willfullness. He's nice, I like him.

Ok, I'm officialy obsessed with blogging. It's totally as I can't do anything else and am desperatly clutching at straws to help me get through the long, boring day, but if I watch another episode of season 3 of Fururama, I may kill someone and spouting some ill conceived drivel on here seems less damaging than murder one. Anyway, I was having a conversation with my puss ridden flatmate re the book boy's booky girfts in which she expressed a slight worry as to my safety when dating on the net. Obviously, to send me books through the post, I had to give my home address to book boy and she was asking me how much I actually know about him and what he might do if I pissed him off in the future or I wanted to disapear him from my brain, as I sometimes do want to do with people. I must admit to being a bit negligent in this department, often meeting people after one email and a call from a mobile phone, without knowing their full names, where they work or if they have previous for attacking negligent girls off the net. I used to do the, telling people where I'm going and when I'll be back thing, but more recently I've just not bothered. I also tend to be quite open with people, having no difficulty sharing with them my phone numbers, email and messenger before we've met and my job, financial situation, sexual history and inside leg mesurement 5 minutes after we have met. I don't think I've met any bone fide headcases (Cuban boy a notable exception) in my dating adventures but I have done potentially dangerous things like fuck them minutes after meeting them and not calling again after the first date (in an off thought, is that callous? I don't know) which might well piss people off or give malicious types the excuse to malicious at me. I tend to be blase in the extreme about these dates, so don't really plan or think about them in advance enough to harvest copious details and leave them with people. Whereas, in my dark and murky past, I've met up with men from the internet with the clear intention to have sex with them and nothing else and I've gone through major leaque safety stuff because both our intentions have been explicit from the outset. As I've said, some of the boys I've slept with practically before the waitress could take our coats from Loopy Love, I've not even known their second names but as they were from a non sex site I've not thought of them as being any kind of possible threat. The sex site boys got rung through their work switchboards, had to bring a credit card (to prove they were who they said they were, not as a services renderd situation) and had to accept friends ringing me on the hour, two 9s dialed into their mobile and finger hovering over the third. Any even slight balking at this rigmarole got them the big El Bow without a second thought. I certainly would never have dreamed of giving them my home address. I mean, I'd commit the most imtimate act humans are capable of with them, but I wouldn't tell them anything about me, heavens no. Perhaps it's a swopping of one intamacy for another, I won't let book boy see what colour pants I like, but I'll tell him what my favorite childhood reads were and I'll let him do nice things for me and call me up and stuff. Whereas sex only boys get to fuck me, then fuck off and any sniff of them wanting any furthur insight into me ends in my swift departure and contact/block situation on messenger.
Basicaly, what I'm saying is, I am promiscuous in the extreme coupled dangerously with a recklessness which may well get me in hot water some day. Perhaps I'll move.

Urgh, not dating related I know, but I've infected my darling flatmate now, feel guilty.
Also, anyone else found that everyone they know is ill? Perhaps it's a stealthy, but ineffectual "feeling a bit crappy" pandemic. Oh humanity, shake in your complacent shoes for a 'bit of a cold' has come to reak its terreble wrath upon us.

Two posts in one day I hear you cry? Yes, that's right two posts. It's not so much that I'm throughly enthused aobut online dating rahter that I'm going slightly stir carzy and this is the only way I can communitcate with the world before the off peak phone calls kick in without infecting it, Well, contrary to my last post about how I'm normaly a tough go getting girl and I don't need no man, no way no how, both my current string along boys have been being utterly lovely. One of the phone calls I had to return was to the lovely book reading boy who's been impressing me with his misanthropic love of novels over real human company. He was v sypathetic and lovely and apropo of my gangrenous throat, we ended up talking about our favorite puss-related book incedents. We both remebered one about someone in prison who had a huge puss filled spot that kept on growing and growing until the end where he pops it onto the mirror complete with a three page description of said puss eruption. We had both been obsessed with it as teenagers, but neither of us can remeber what it's called. Anyone? We will both love you forever and I may even promsie not to mention puss again in too much depth on this journal.
Another thing we talked about was reading when ill. How it's the one thing that would really help the time pass without giving you a headache like Nicolodian, without the guilt of infecting your mates, like company and without the fainting in the street wrongness that forcing yourself to try and do things, but you just can't read stuff of any intelectual worth as anything more in deapth than Noddy builds a Lake, makes your head spin. We swopped tips on illness-compatable reading, for example I can highly reccomend all your old childhood Enid Blytons for if you have a nervous breakdown and have to go and live with your mum. He saw my nervous breakdown admiting, bad childhood reading admitions and raised me Dragon Lance style fantasy bollocks for the half a year hermit state brought on by being dumped, loosing your job and having a parent die in the same week. The dude. See, he's a barrel of cynical laughs, what's not to like? Anyway, this was a nice conversation and I didn't even mind the slight light headed sicky feeling I had after I put the phone down. He topped his own fun-to-talk to self this morning though, by posting me a childhood book suitalble for reading whilst ill. How cool is that? It was a Malcome Savile book, set in Rye where a load of upper middle class kids have an adventure whilst on holiday from boarding shcool. Basicaly it's Enid Blyton, without the bigotry and assembly line plot. It's (so far) really really good, gripping and a leeettteelle bit scary. I think I love this boy. There's a return address and, according to the scribble on the inside of the wrapping, once returned to him and new time passing tome will be sent my way. Woohoo for him in a big, big way.

Urgh. I've been ill, really nasty, icky ill. Tonsilitis ill. Green pussy wrongness all over my tonsils ill. Puffy-faced, small eyed, streaming nosed, temparature of 103ed, sticky up haired ill, for two weeks, I'm still not totaly better, but I think I can snog without striking people down with my lurgy, so I'm back on the scene. I've not really been thinking about blogging, or dating or anything other than why God must hate me so much, but never fear! I shall rise undaunted from my pile of used tissues, holding my sacred bottle of Buttercup syrup aloft like a flaming sword/comforitng childhood elixir and relauch myself onto the single and desparate males of our sainted capital thourgh the medium of internet dating forthwith.

One thing i've notcied about being ill that's dating related other than pukily TMI related, is that it seemed to turn me from an independent, self confident city girl in charge of herself to a sniveling, needy wreck of a woman. I first got ill when I was at my friend Laura's house looking after her due to her extereme throat based anguish and we proceeded to spend the next 5 days feeling sorry for ourselves in her big, comfy bed attened to by her three labradors. It was actualy not a bad way to be ill if you've got to be and allowed me to spend an extended ammount of time with a dear friend when I normaly only get to spend lunch hours or evenings out amounts of time with her. It seems our Urban lives have detriorated to the point where, to be really close and spend a pleasing ammonut of time with someone you love, you have to be at deaths door, anyway banal modern life is rubbish type observations aside, I was with her a week before I had to come home to deal with stupid crap like rent paying and phone call returning. I just had to jump on one bus from Tottenham to Islington, walk two minutes from the bus stop to my house and do a bit of moving money from account to account. I didn't feel good, but I could deal with that, right? Wrong. By the time I got off the bus by my house I was practiacly in tears. I was dizzy, delrious and in pain and I didn't think I could make it to my front door, let along do all the little but important day to day things that needed doing. By the time I actualy got to my frint dooor, I was in tears and all I could think about was how precarious all my little single lifestyle routines were and how I just wanted someone to go to the bank for me, make me a lemsip and cuddle me all evening. In other words, I wanted a boyfriend, not a friend to help me out as I've got plenty of them but someone I could get to help and comfort me without having to feel like I was imposing and someone to put me in the bath and stroke my hair. In all a total attack of gayness in the taking care of oneself department.

Now, normaly I am at best, ambivalant about relationships and at worst, think that I'm simply not cut out for them and I should find a nice fuck buddy and busy myself with stuff that I need to get on with. This expreicne has only gone to strenghen that feeling. I've never missed having a boyfriend before, never pined for the attention and security of a long term relationship and now I find that the only time I do miss it is when I'm both needy and not of sound mind. Perhaps I should remove "long term dating" from my dating profile.

Current Mood: crappy

The more eagle eyed of you will have noted from my last few posts that I had my phone stolen, which was why I couldn't cancel the date with book boy. All good you may think, serendipity favours us all, every cloud etc. However, this evening I cannot go out on my 3rd date with book boy as the people who knicked my phone managed to clock up £216 worth international calls to Nigerian mobile numbers in under a day. Nice. I will be posting the number they rang most for you to call and abuse as you wish, but not after I've got some of the Nigerians from work to ring said number and abuse in their native tounge at various ungodly hours. I also canoot pay my mortgage either, but that's not for the pages of a dating blog, other than if I manage to cop off with the overdraught extention man from the Co-op that this charming little incindent has precipitated tomorow.
Anyway, book boy was gratious about my having to cancell and we promissed to spend the hours between 8 and 10 reading whilst pretending the other person is there. (He's also bought me a book he 'thought I might like', could he be any better?) I've got a picture of him on my phone which i shall prop up on the other side of the coffee table.
I did notice a internet dating specific thing the other day, it's another search term observation though, sorry. When I first joined Loopy Love, I was finding it imposible to sift out the boys that I'm utterly disinerested in from the ones I might like, as you generaly search for totaly broad and non specific terms, like age and loactaion and end up with 10 billion (fact) possibles, nearly all of whom are actualy not possibles not at all possible in any way, sort of Zoo and Nuts reading West Ham loveing prehensile mouthbreather types. Don't get me wrong, I'm sure those sorts of boys have a place, in fact I know they do, it's just that it happens to be as far away from me and normal society as it's pysicaly (or inded metaphysicaly) possible to be. However, one of these speicimins might well be 32 and from London, the same way as book boy and cuban boy both are. I was stuck though, wading through all the unsutable boys was making me feel lonley, depressed and frankly, homicidle, but I couldn't work out how to filter the icky ones out, it's certainly not with a money earning search as Cuban Boy is loaded and book boy is skint and that's just got nothing to do with anything anway. So in the end, as a way of sifting out the TSTYGEEZUZ4U types, I had to start using a 'highest level of education' search and stipulating that I only wanted university educated types. This really makes me uncomfortable, firstly as I am aware that I don't have a university or even 6th form level education and secondly, I don't lie about it on my profile as I'm really not interested in anyone who would search using those terms as they would clearly be utter wankers, but what's a girl to do, eh? You can't do an interrests search or a 'people i would actualy like' search but I'd really like to stop this education bolocks thing, any suggestions?

Just got back from date number two with my book loving boy, it's really proving a most odd but really thrilling and interesting internet dating experience. I do love books and I'm kinda keen on book loving boy too. Funny how an evening spent in what is basicaly a solitary persuit can make me totaly fancy my co-ignorer. He's really rocking the sexy ugly, geek chic thing that really works on me. He has a beard tells me his last weeks eating habits and an odoor that tells me his last 10 year's washing habbits (scanty, I belive is the most likely). I think it's the smell and the frankly heroic length of his beard that stops him being on of those irritating wet book boys, the kind who like coy girls and wishes they were the thoughtfull frontman of a Glasgow indie band. It's funny, the kind of boy I like is just millimeters from such a sappy specemin but just one vital degree away from a slight edge and I go from bitting my lip and growling under my breath in a good way to bitting my lip from frustration and growling as I'm about to pounce in a warlike, rather than sexual fasion. The little differences are apparent in book loving boy. For instance, no *really* fey boy would have a beard that long, it's too confrontational and although he is of the cardigan and army bag variety he is still, thankfully, more than able to beat me in an arm wrestle and pull me up in full mocking fasion if I say something stupid/pretentious/plain incorrect.
To my intense joy boy did not try to make conversation with me at the start of this date other than to tell me his new house mate is a DJ and he's not been able to get past the first line of the 6th chapter of Closley Observed Trains in nearly a week, then promplty bury his nose as far into siad book and keep it there for the next three quaters of an hour. Being a massive attenion seeking child, normaly I would find this in some way offnesive, but with him, I just don't. I had arrived first and was mid way through a particualrly gripping bit of The Secret Purposes when he sat down, so I just lifeted my eyes from the page long enough to take him and his choice of novel in before just going back to it. There's really something silly and brave in what we're doing, even if it is all dreadfully self aware. We are sharing a very deep and important part of oursefls with each other, the part that would rather be satreading in a comfy chair than almost anything else, esecaily all that fucking tedious getting to know you claptrap that we usualy subject ourselvefs to on dates.
We had one decent coversation on the way to our respective bus stops, though. I've given up smoking in the last week or two and every so often i need to have an impassioned little rant about how much I love smoking and everything connected to it. The poor boy got that full in the face, waited for me to finish, pulled a fag out of his fey army bag, lit it, blew the smoke in my face and walked off laughing.
This is fun.