Tuesday, April 08, 2014

here's a thing.

I met a boy recently through the social cesspool that is Tinder and he turned out to be a real diamond. We had the same taste in music, TV, and vulgar hilarity. We went out on a couple of dates. We got on famously. He even called around post-pub to help me nurse my hangover with cuddles (and really great sex). But. And there's always a but. But the timing was all wrong.

The biggest news in my life lately is that I recently signed a year-long contract to work as a teacher in the United Arab Emirates starting this August. This is fantastic news and I'm pretty thrilled to have a job lined up before I've even finished my end-of-semester essays. It's a great opportunity, pretty excellent benefits, and job-security for at least a year. All round success. Except in between now and August I'm in a bit of a liminal space. I'm neither here nor there. And relationship-wise, that's kind of a deal-breaker. So Tinder Boy called it quits citing the very real issue of one or both of us floating off into the wider world in a few months' time. It's a real concern and it makes complete sense. But it still feels tear-inducing and heart-in-throat awful. Thankfully, mothers, lovely housemates, and Ben & Jerry's exists. Otherwise I might never stop sobbing.

Tinder Boy and I had had plans to go to the cinema tomorrow but obviously those plans have been quashed so my Wednesday evening just opened up. And that's kind of weirdly exciting. If I was any good I'd go to Weight Watchers since I've fallen off the wagon completely and haven't been seen in about three or four weeks. In that time, I've reconciled my intense love affair with Subway, crisps, and chocolate. It's time to cop on. Again. Today was going sort of well until that awful WhatsApp message (twenty-first century tragedy) after which the only sane thing to do was to consume large quantities of Chocolate Fudge Brownie ice-cream. Tomorrow will be better. Tomorrow I will eat at least fourteen varieties of vegetable, none of which will be coated in grease and/or batter. Tomorrow I will go to Weight Watchers and I will receive the dreaded news that I've gained 10 lbs. Tomorrow I will move on from that news, reminding myself that losing weight (or finding love or getting my shit together) is not a race. I will also keep the following in mind:


So my Wednesday evening is free. Maybe, after Weight Watchers, I'll go for a walk. Maybe I'll read some Salman Rushdie (purely for my British Literature module but it sure does sound fancy, doesn't it?). Maybe I'll watch one of the hundreds of movies on my laptop. Maybe I'll write a few recently-acquired quotes into my journal. Maybe I'll listen to sappy indie music and flush all this emotion out of my system. I'm very excited by the fact that I am resilient. This feels shit but I'll get over it. I'll get over it and above it and I'll be better for it. This was just another sneak preview.



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