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  Sun 25th July 2010

Oh dear... that went wrong all of a sudden. I rang Felicity who, after chatting aimiably for a few minutes said, in a calm way, that she wants to "give it a rest", although later in the call she referred to "what we had" and various other formulations in the past tense. She wanted to know "where it's going" seeing as we don't actually have much in common. I knew this was going to happen at some point. I've never seen this as a relationship and that fundamental difference between us isn't going to be resolved.

I went to the off-licence before it closed, after which I bumped into my friend who had had the same idea and who took me into his front room where Johnny Mathis's Stone In Love With You was playing on his beautiful looking and sounding hifi. Then I rang Frances, and we had a rather tortuous 40 minutes trying to arrange a long weekend away, her checking dates on the internet as we talked, me being perhaps slightly irritatingly tentative because I can't say when precisely I'll be needed to look after the children.

Five minutes later, I get an email saying that she's fed up with being "bottom of the list" in my priorities, that's it's too much effort, and that I'm too busy. Then, a text saying it's not working out and that we should stop it before we fall out.

That's a shame.

It's striking that this has happened within days of an online friend of mine having met someone he thinks might be his soulmate. It hasn't been straightforward for him at all, and still isn't, but reading his brief public messages about it struck a chord in me. It made me feel uncomfortably aware of how impatient I am, happy to settle temporarily for almost anyone willing to get in bed with me. I knew almost immediately, both with Felicity and Frances, that they would never be more than friends.

Update 1700: got back from lovely afternoon with one of my daughters, rambling up a local crag, picking wild raspberries and a late and huge pub lunch; then got home to find a slightly unpleasant email from Frances saying, amongst other things, that she has never found our "drunken shagging" enjoyable, in any way. She's not talking about sex, of course, she's talking about the incompatible views of our relationship, just as Felicity was in a more articulate and honest way.

I replied "Well, that's certainly very clear. All the best and thanks for some really lovely times. Looby."

Which sounds better than "Fuck off then. I enjoyed it and you did too, you lying cow." From now on, I'm going to be friendly and polite, at the level you would be, say, to a visiting academic colleague. That'll piss her off.


Comment from: Homer [Visitor]

Hell hath no fury like…

Sun 25th July 2010 @ 21:02
Comment from: looby [Visitor]

Well, anyone who can switch from arranging a weekend away to being so slashed off within an hour is someone to clear of. Never mind… onward!

Mon 26th July 2010 @ 11:36
Comment from: heybartender [Visitor]

Wow. Somebody’s been reading a self-help library or two, huh? Good job steering clear.

Wed 4th August 2010 @ 17:34

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looby, n.; pl. loobies. A lout; an awkward, stupid, clownish person

M / 60 / Bristol, "the most beautiful, interesting and distinguished city in England" -- John Betjeman [1961, source eludes me].

"Looby is a left-wing intellectual who is obsessed with a) women's clothes and b) tits." -- Joy of Bex.

WLTM literate woman, 40-65. Must have nice tits, a PhD, and an mdma factory in the shed, although the first on its own will do in the short term.

There are plenty of bastards who drink moderately. Of course, I don't consider them to be people. They are not our comrades.
Sergei Korovin, quoted in Pavel Krusanov, The Blue Book of the Alcoholic

I am here to change my life. I am here to force myself to change my life.
Chinese man I met during Freshers Week at Lancaster University, 2008

The more democratised art becomes, the more we recognise in it our own mediocrity.
James Meek

Tell me, why is it that even when we are enjoying music, for instance, or a beautiful evening, or a conversation in agreeable company, it all seems no more than a hint of some infinite felicity existing apart somewhere, rather than actual happiness – such, I mean, as we ourselves can really possess?
Turgenev, Fathers and Sons

I hate the iPod; I hate the idea that music is such a personal thing that you can just stick some earplugs in your ears and have an experience with music. Music is a social phenomenon.
Jeremy Wagner

La vie poetique has its pleasures, and readings--ideally a long way from home--are one of them. I can pretend to be George Szirtes.
George Szirtes

Using words well is a social virtue. Use 'fortuitous' once more to mean 'fortunate' and you move an English word another step towards the dustbin. If your mistake took hold, no-one who valued clarity would be able to use the word again.
John Whale

One good thing about being a Marxist is that you don't have to pretend to like work.
Terry Eagleton, What Is A Novel?, Lancaster University, 1 Feb 2010

The working man is a fucking loser.
Mick, The Golden Lion, Lancaster, 21 Mar 2011

The Comfort of Strangers

23.1.16: Big clearout of the defunct and dormant and dull
16.1.19: Further pruning

If your comment box looks like this, I'm afraid I sometimes can't be bothered with all that palarver just to leave a comment.

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