Unlucky in Life, Unlucky in Love

I don't consider myself too different from many girls. Slightly too neurotic, care way too much about what people think about me, and ultimately, just want to be loved. I'm a single girl in a sea of smug attached people. Every day, a new friend excitedly proclaims that they are engaged, attached for the rest of their life. I'm not going to lie, this scares the hell out of me, I just want someone to help me carry stuff out of Ikea and maybe go to the cinema with... neurotic and demanding I am, but ultimately, it's the simple things in life that are appealing.

In my quest to find this knight in shining (blue and yellow) armour, I have kissed many frogs. Most of whom have turned out to be poisonous frogs who suddenly lose their ability to text/call/email/write/communicate in any way shape or form. This happened recently, after a holiday fling. Another one bites the dust.  Rather than curling up on my sofa, red eyed and reaching for the Ben and Jerry's, I decided to go and find a rebound. Just someone to take my mind off of things. 

That night, I attended a friend's house-party- a heady mix of Jaegermeister, beer pong and power ballards left me stumbling around quite tipsy, straight into the arms of a colleague's housemate. I briefly remembered severely disliking said housemate on a previous occasion, but apparently, instincts and intuition are lost under the influence of Jaegermeister and I found myself kissing him. I came to in a cab, with him passed out on me. With an impending sense of dread I paid for the cab and decided to let him sleep at mine. At this point, I'd spoken to my best friend, and was fairly positive that I wanted nothing further to do with this boy, but for the sake of saving face in front of my colleague, I didn't want to leave him to wander the streets of North London unattended, it didn't seem like a nice thing to do.

I stopped off at my local bagel bakery and brought him a pastry to line his stomach, he was pretty far gone. We got out the cab and I turned around to see him throwing the pastry in a hedge. Unperturbed, I coaxed him into the flat and made him a cup of tea, congratulating myself on my patience and desperate to get him out of the front door as soon as humanly possible. I showered (alone) and came back into my room to find him sleeping on my side of the bed. I took a deep breath and pushed him onto the other side of the bed. Turned the light off, climbed into bed and tried to sleep, feeling wildly uncomfortable.

I suddenly felt the housemate jerking next to me and making some unattractive gagging sounds. I asked him, mildly panicked, if he was going to throw up. He answered in the affirmative and I jumped out of bed, gazelle like, stubbed my toe and tried to remove him from my clean white sheets as quickly as possible. He wouldn't move. He physically refused to get out of my bed, despite the fact he was about to be reacquainted with his dinner. So I ran into the kitchen to grab whatever I could for him to throw up into and I heard him heave. He threw up red wine sick all over my white cupboard, beige carpet, white bed, white sheet, floral cushions, EVERYTHING. At this point, my patience dissolved and I saw red. Screaming profanities I threw a clean t-shirt at him marched him to the shower (alone) and scrubbed up the sick from every surface I could find it on. 

Upon returning from the shower (which I later found out he had been sick in as well) he started to hurl abuse at me. As far as I was concerned, I had done nothing but be nice to this vile creature. I had cleaned up his sick, made him tea, bought him a pastry, paid for a cab home and he now had the audacity to call me names. I bit my tongue and turned over away from him so not to have to look at his face. 

About five minutes later, I again felt the bed jerking. I inquired whether or not he was going to be sick again, he informed me that he wasn't and that he was in fact, playing with himself. Disgusted, I insisted he stopped. All I wanted to do was shower and scrub any inch of skin that he might have touched raw. I did not sleep well.

I woke up, two hours later, to see him wandering gormlessly around my flat. He clearly had no idea where he was, what had happened to him the night before and was panicking that he was late for work. I decided, in order to ensure that he did not get lost and wander back into my life for directions, to drive him to a station. I logically decided that he owed me a bagel (I was suffering from a hangover as well) and a coffee after the performance of the night before.

He changed and sat innocently on my bed, put his head on my shoulder and uttered six words that will forever haunt me:

"Did I at least shag you?"

"No," I replied, "If you were the only man on earth and our procreation would ensure the continuation of the human race, I wouldn't shag you."

I drove him to the station and we made uncomfortable chit chat.

The best thing about the whole experience was the smoked salmon bagel I made him buy me, but he was clearly too cheap to get cream cheese added in.