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Channel fire

  Tue 24th January 2017

So then, tell me looby, what are you looking for, in terms of a relationship?

Well, ideally, I'd like to meet a girl with whom I could develop an intensity of feeling sufficient to drown out the futile, one-sided longing I have for someone who will never reciprocate it.

Well, there you go. Is that the time? Mustn't miss my train!

Wendy came round the other day, another chatty, stoned afternoon watching the the coal fire like a mesmerising television channel. I misheard her when she asked "Did your package come through?", hearing it as "Did a giraffe come through?"

I've got to give up. I've got to train my mind and my desire away from her. She's not interested, and it's debasing to myself, my character and my dignity and my adulthood, to be insufficient a master of myself to lack the practical means by which I can shut this down. I am colonised by my own unreturned feelings.

I get so much help, kindness, compassion, and encouragement from others, every single day; but I want to give now. I want to give affection, I want to make that effortless effort that is loving someone. I want to share someone else's hopes and desires and difficulties as my own. But there's only one person I want to do that with.

Maybe, through this blog, I hope that talking about it all the time will help it go away. Fucking pathetic. But what else can I do?

I contacted someone on the dating site the other day who said that she was in an open marriage and was "looking for a sort of part-time boyfriend". She wasn't that good-looking but the proposal was interesting. She replied thanking me for my interest and saying that she was getting involved with someone else. Well take your fucking profile down then.

Trina, watching my face as she said it -- her own lit with anticipated Schadenfruede -- told me that Helen had said to her, "[looby's] just one in a long line of [Wendy's] admirers." "As if I don't know that, Trina," I said.

At the bar, the barmaid says "so when are you and me going out for a drink then?" A couple of weeks ago, through a seemingly unremarkable exchange, I had an apprehension that she knows what I am up to, and sees through the story about me having a cat which provokes the hayfever which makes me sniff and sneeze sometimes, afflictions which by coincidence happen when I return from the loo. We've got Monday pencilled in. She's interesting, and holds something back all the time.

Back at our table, Trina says to someone, "he's an alcoholic. A high-functioning alcoholic, but an alcoholic." I don't know which accusation is the more inaccurate, but the one about being high-functioning is the more insulting.


Comment from: kono [Visitor]

Hmmm, i’m starting to think that maybe Wendy gets off on knowing men want her, it’s her thing, she has her boundaries she won’t cross and let’s the men know that but then sends many mixed signals that easily confuse and confound the male of the species, just a theory of course but i’m wondering…

and what you need is a good shag or six, notice that when you were with the crazy woman who called it off suddenly the yearning for Wendy decreased, it’s a piece you need good sir!! nothing more!! lol!! now bed the barmaid!! and i hate when they have cats in the bathroom, for years i had that very same problem…

Tue 24th January 2017 @ 02:54
Comment from: [Member]

I’d love someone to take my mind off Wendy by giving me a good seeing to, but that girl is very difficult to find – virtually impossible. I cannot be more sociable than I already am, and I put a great deal of effort into online dating, with meagre results.

There was the loony this September, and before that, for a few weeks in the summer of 2014, there was Donna. Internet dating is an efficient way of spending fifty quid an evening by going to Manchester to be rejected.

The barmaid, I am sure, has no ulterior motives. She’s twenty years younger than me. She just fancies a social drink.

Tue 24th January 2017 @ 05:57

I’m with kono. Wendy feeds off the desire of others but it’s a one-way street. I don’t think she’s malicious about it. It just feels good. Sorry to say, mate, you’re going to have to put some distance between you two if you’re to make any headway towards being your old self again. If you tell her you need some time apart, I’m sure it’ll come as no surprise to her.

Tue 24th January 2017 @ 12:05
Comment from: [Member]

No, she’s not malicious at all. I can’t not see her. I can’t alienate myself from one of my three really close friends (Kim, Kitty and her). I like her company. Even just a minute in her arms at the end when we say goodbye would be good. But then that would mean me being tolerated, or patronised.

As soon as you think you might have this life business sorted out, along comes a challenge that is difficult and novel. It’s mental training I need, and a good fuck by someone I like.

Tue 24th January 2017 @ 15:49
Comment from: Homer [Visitor]

Surely Wendy is to Looby as Looby is to Trina? I don’t think it’s fair to attribute malicious motives to her.

Tue 24th January 2017 @ 19:40
Comment from: isabelle [Visitor]

I have no direct experience of it, but , if it’s sex you’re after , have you tried Tinder ?

Wed 25th January 2017 @ 23:18
Comment from: looby [Visitor]

I know how I must come across, but I want sex with someone I like and know, and where it can work out of bed as well. Conversation is the best aphrodisiac going.

I wouldn’t last five minutes on Tinder. I’m not that good-looking and if I were to rely on my looks I’d be sexless for the rest of my life.

When Kim was here at Christmas she suggested I stop trying too hard and just wait until I get a good offer, but that’s something only a very attractive, magnetically charismatic woman like her has the luxury of saying.

One thing I haven’t really tried much is going out dancing on my own, which is definitely something I’m going to do more of in 2017. No-one approaches you if you’re with someone else. I’d love to meet someone who likes the same music as me, who loves dancing as much as I do.

There’s a house do in Glasgow next month which I’m going to, and then like an idiot I mentioned it to Trina, who has invited herself along. There’ll be other ones though.

Fri 27th January 2017 @ 00:13

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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

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