Yes, yes, not written anything for ever, such is life, I suck, let's just move on please thank you.
Basically, the update is: I broke up with Troy and I'm over it now. Bosh. Back to cold hearted bitch. BUT AM I??????!!!!!
Mostly. Now, did I ever tell you about LB...?
I don't think I did. Well my little dandelions, allow us to go back in time to about February this year...
I had just gotten my tattoo, dyed my hair bright red and my lovely German and I had gone out to da club. She then promptly decided to ditch me and go back home as she wasn't feeling well. Should I have gone home with her being the fabulous friend that I am? Lol no. So I stayed. And I drank.
And here's what happens when I drink too much - I cry. I get crazy emotional and cry. And it's not attractive. Quite frankly it's right bloody annoying. I become a weeping, drunken pain in the respective arses of anyone I am with.
But on this occasion I was on my lonesome. Until I bumped into LB. LB stands for Lawyer Boy. He is, as you may have guessed, a male who studies law. God I'm inventive.
Now LB was tall. Taller than me and I was in heels - only about an inch and a half high but that still made me 6'1". And at that height, he still towered over me. And from what I could tell in a darkened club, he was rather not bad looking.
Fast forward an hour or so and him, his flatmate and I were walking back along the street. There hadn't been any interaction between us expect exchanging a few words but he started holding my hand as we got further down the street. I obviously got very overexcited about this. Then, as suddenly as a flasher whipping out his dick (ew. what.) I was getting bundled into a taxi by myself and taken home.
I was not impressed.
So unimpressed was I that I went straight onto Facebook and tracked him down. I won't tell you to what degree of stalking it took but to give you a hint - MI5 would be bloody lucky to get someone like me working for them. The next time I got drunk, I messaged him.
He messaged back after about a week - because obviously my message had gone into the Facebook messaging 'other' folder just reserved for creeps and stalkers - and good lord I got overexcited. Screaming and jumping about occurred. It wasn't a proud moment.
Hint: there are a lot of moments I am not proud of to follow. Sorry.
Then, after a few messages, we lost touch. As in - he stopped messaging me. Sensible enough.
I was so pissed. Because he had cursed me.
Yes, you read correctly. Cursed. Cursed in the way that no guy would come near me for about a month after I met him. Usually, I was accustomed to making out with at least one guy every time we went out to da clubs. After LB? Nope. None. It made me feel like right crap. Because I was thinking, God, is it me? Am I suddenly repellent to the male sex? Even though I have boobs?
Then I realised I was being ridiculous and the curse was broken and everything was hunkydory - I met TGI and you know the rest.
I didn't see LB again apart from a couple of times on campus - I ignored him and hoped he hadn't seen me notice him. It was so empowering, not gonna lie.
That is, until Wednesday night.
Oh yes. Freshers' Week.
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