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  Tue 22nd September 2015

Got in this morning and saw the headmistress I had two dates with last year had reappeared on the dating site. After our second meeting she emailed me to say that she was sorry but she wasn't over her husband yet and apologised for any implication that she was leading me on. That is decent and honest.

Seeing that fifteen months has passed, I thought it might be worth contacting her again, so I sent a polite email, wondering if she remembered meeting me, telling her my girls had gone to Sixth Form, asking after her, and saying it would be a pleasure to hear from her again.

Yes of course I remember you! Thank you for the message.

[some boring shite about her children, because I mentioned mine so as not to appear too eager]

I dipped my toe cautiously back into this site a few weeks ago and saw you here – and of course I received your note in February,

It wasn't a "note", it was a Valentines card made from one inch by one inch post-it notes which she had to peel off to read the full message, which I delivered to the pub in which she's a regular, not knowing her address, on 14th February, a day on which I could hardly afford the bus fare.

which was very flattering, thank you. However, in both cases, I decided not to contact you. I really enjoy your company but don’t think it would work for me in a romantic sense. Which is why we’re both here isn’t it?

Good luck looby – you deserve it!

I would normally assume that that means "I don't fancy you," but at the end of our first date we were snogging at the bus stop, and while she was still on the bus she texted me to say "Lovely night. Can we start the next one how we ended it?" We met the following Tuesday. I said "Could I ask that you wear that blue dress again?"

I went to hers. Immediately I was inside her door we started snogging. She's taller than me and I found it a turn-on to have to tilt my head up slightly to kiss her as I pulled up the blue dress and ran my fingers across her knickers. She cooked me dinner and we went to bed and had as successful a fuck as you can have on the second date. I told her honestly that she's gorgeous, without mentioning the modern abomination of a shaved cunt.

So "romantically" can't mean "sexually." But women talk in code all the time. Another rejection. I don't what the fuck more I've got to do. Stick with Trina, and see relationships as a form of commerce, successful in a disabused way.


Don’t make too much of a bus stop entanglement. Sometimes, that’s all it is and all it’s ever going to be. Next.

Tue 22nd September 2015 @ 11:49
Comment from: looby [Visitor]

Well yes – but it was a snog at a bus stop followed by dinner and sex four days later. I had hoped it might go a bit further than that. But she was honest throughout, right up to this morning, so that’s OK. He said, through gritted teeth.

Tue 22nd September 2015 @ 15:08
Comment from: furtheron [Visitor]

Shame - maybe she is actually just interested in one night stands but doesn’t think that she should behave like that - interesting thought that for me

Wed 23rd September 2015 @ 11:18
Comment from: looby [Visitor]

The only way I can make sense of it is that it is possible to fuck someone once without really fancying them.

But it’s all irrelevant. She’s not interested and that’s the end of the matter. Perhaps all relationships are unequal in feeling, inherently. I don’t know.

Wed 23rd September 2015 @ 13:48
Comment from: James [Visitor]

I don’t know you, I happened upon your site, but if I may say, you seem like an insufferable snob, especially for a self-described left-wing “intellectual". The litany of lasses aside, this blog seems stuffed with lots of smug mentions of how middle-class you are and snide remarks like this (about the bailiff who came on account of your debt):

“Good idea but I’d be very reluctant to waste a bottle of Petit Verdot on him. He looked like he’s [sic] much rather have a nice tin of Carling.”

That’s my opinion from the void anyway, do with it what you will!

Thu 24th September 2015 @ 17:47
Comment from: looby [Visitor]

Hello – the description of me as a left-wing intellectual isn’t mine.

I can see how it might come across as snobbery, but in general I aim at being a bit more playful with my own ambiguous class position. I can *pass* in both middle- and working class speech, belonging to and a fraud within both. If it comes across as being simply a pitch to be middle class, then I’ve misjudged it somewhere.

Thank you nonetheless – it’s always interesting to read critical takes on one’s work – even if it suggests that there’s a bit of a large gap sometimes between effect and intention.

Fri 25th September 2015 @ 09:32

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

M / 59 / 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.
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The more democratised art becomes, the more we recognise in it our own mediocrity.
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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?
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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.
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One good thing about being a Marxist is that you don't have to pretend to like work.
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The working man is a fucking loser.
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