WHIRLWIND WEEK

Sometimes life can go a bit mental and feel like it’s on Fast Forward.

This past week has been like that: filled with double work shifts, boy stuff, unplanned drinking sessions, wedding receptions, heavy metal gigs (hardcore D&B, if we’re picking hairs), scary cinema jaunts and a trip home to the folks’ (filled with pizza, Mad Men and niece-munching.)

The catalyst for much of the above (particularly the boy stuff – which has centered around flirting with 18-year-old boys, texts from pop stars, and other, erm, boy stuff) is that the Sophisticated Aussie is now out of the picture.

A flying visit home last week helped me come to my decision to just end it. Stepdad and friends – girl G and boy G – were instrumental in the decision process. The word “anorak” was bandied about. Similarly, when I saw my friend K and her boyf P on Saturday, similar descriptions were issued. “Why was he texting you, while you were on holiday, about lentils?” asked P incredulously. “Why wasn’t he making flirtatious comments about your tan lines?”

Yup, so…

I sent him a text message to end things. Lame, you might think, but that was the only way we had communicated over the long two and a bit months we’d been dating.

I was honest: said the chemistry wasn’t right even though we were great on paper (I took half of the blame, you see) and that we could always have a phone chat if he wanted.

He sent a nice-ish text back saying he certainly liked me and thought things were going well but that schedules hadn’t been kind and that we could talk “if I liked”.

Where was the passion, the fire?

Since the text message (which wasn’t followed up with a call), I’ve had a few short-lived flirtations with a few boys (Austin Powers must have slipped me his Mojo when I wasn’t looking), all of which have only served to stress how incompatible me and the Sophisticated Aussie were.

So that’s that.

In other news: my sis and I are writing a play, inspired by things such as the above, and it’s going to be ace. Well, we’ll definitely go and see it, and we’ll probably be able to drag a few other family members along if they’re not busy that day.

And in other news, I think I may be warming to the irritating idiot girl in my creative writing class.

Knew it.

In other news: I really miss David Miliband.