Wednesday, October 31

He's compromising. At least he's got a job for life. Get born, get school, get job, get car, pay tax and find a wife.

So what is it....Perfect Partner or Soul Mate?
Fate or Destiny?
Love At First Sight or third, forth, fifth time lucky?
Persistence or Chance?

What makes a person want to spend the rest of their life with another?
They say "opposites attract". They say "like two peas in a pod".
They say "you look for a duplicate of yourself". They say "you want to find a person with a different personality, a different opinion, a different attitude".

I'm sure dating agencies work differently nowadays, but I'm sure the older way of matching people was to find similarities, things in common, a good likeness of each other. That way following the "two peas in a pod" strategy.
Nowadays, I'm sure the internet dating sites would have criteria set out by the member. Certain things; physical appearance, likes, dislikes, opinions etc could be used to determine their 'match'. But then, isn't that ruling so many other possibilities out?
Speaking from my own point of view, I would never have been able to match myself up with The Girl. Her opinions, her personality, her physical appearance, her likes, her dislikes, etc....I'd never have been able to set them out as 'criteria to fit for possible match'. And I'd never want her to be anything or anyone other than herself, anyway.
I wouldn't say we were opposites, neither would I say we were similar. We're kinda blurred out somewhere in the middle. She compliments me in every way and when we're together, I feel like she brings out the best in me.

So perhaps there's no set formula at all. As we Humans are all different, maybe our preferences are too. So if that's the case, then how can anybody explain the success rates from Dating Sites and personal ads. Is that a case of 'lucky in love', 'chance' or 'destiny'?
I don't think 'Love' will ever be truly explainable, anymore so than the human brain.
In this day and age, we are no closer to explaining why we dream the things that we do, or Deja Vu, or why when your heart is broken, it really does feel like a dagger plunged right through your heart.

This was all nicely leading up to my point, until I forgot what my point was. I'm distracted tonight by Radio One's Live Lounge vol 2 and a nice smoke on the old "how's yer Father", so I apologise. Aah Jose Gonzalez "Heartbeats". Now that's just beauty wrapped up in a person.

I have nothing against Dating Sites or the people that use them, but if I were single, or indeed when I was single I would never even think about signing up with one. For the simple reason that they are seen as places where weirdos or dirty old men hang out (I'd like to point out that I don't think all guys fit into those categories, I'm just quoting general hear say). I've lost count the number of times I've stumbled across a blogpost talking about the weirdos and sex pests they get 'matched' with. So it's just a simple case of me not wanting to associate with places that would conjure up images of dirty old men and weirdos.
I saw a few months ago, was advertising with a promise of "Finding true love" or your money back. Now that's a big promise to fulfil. And where are the boundary lines when it comes to a dispute over whether it was true love or not. I imagine the Terms and Conditions on that one was a biggie.

Interesting that I began with soul mates and true love and perfect partners, and now I'm talking about Dating Sites. Perhaps that's some kind of destiny for me to post that here. Perhaps somebody who stumbles upon this post will find their perfect partner through a Dating Site and reading this post proved somewhat fateful.
My folks have been married a long time. People have done a life sentence in prison and then some to be exact. I look at them sometimes and wonder if they were lucky and found their perfect partner so young. Or are they of the generation that thinks "you have to work at a marriage" and tolerates and forgives. Over the years, they have shown less and less affection to each other. Is that something that just 'goes' or should it always be there? I know which one I'd like it to be.
You know what we don't see enough of....?
Old people holding hands.
I love it when I see old people holding hands, showing affection.

As you may have noticed, I still haven't reached my point, which I've yet to remember. It may come still, but I think I'll shut up now. I've moved onto Radiohead's new album, I'm feeling a little stoned and thinking my point will probably come back to me tomorrow, when I'm under somebody's bath.

So yeah, more old people holding hands!

Oh, and thank fuck for the spell checker!

Tuesday, October 30

I cheated myself, like I knew I would. I told you I was trouble. You know that I'm no good.

I was introduced to more of The Girl's family over the weekend.
In summary, the most nervous I've ever been around The Girl. Even more nervous than on our first encounter.
Within 10 minutes, I'd already decided how lovely they all were. They all felt so familiar.
I spent the rest of the weekend worrying about what they thought of me.
I think it went ok.

It's really, really important for me to be liked by The Girl's family. After what she's been through, it's not really rocket science to understand that they are all going to be looking out for her a hell of a lot more. I'm not setting out to impress anybody, I would just like to be liked, that's all.

I remember my first encounter with my ex wife's step-dad. I was introduced to him by my name, to which he yelped back, pronouncing that I was off to a bad start because my ex wife's dad's name is the same and "We all know what kind of a wanker he was, don't we?"
My first encounter with my ex's dad was when we came back from a night out to find he'd broken into her house and fallen asleep on the sofa, drunk.

Everybody has a special somebody in the family who is most important to them. Even if it's difficult to admit, if you think about introducing your partner to your friends and family, which one person are you secretly hoping to hear positive things from, because their opinion is a little bit more important than everybody elses.
For me it's my brother. Even though my parents are still alive and they've given me so much help over the last few months, it's still my brother. He can be a right twat at times, but I still value his opinion, just that little bit more than everybody elses.

Wednesday, October 24

A wave came crashing like a fist to the jaw. Delivered him wings, "Hey, look at me now".

Just thinking back to times gone by.

The first single I bought was Bohemian Rhapsody by Queen.
I really dislike that song now. I don't like Queen or Freddie Mercury. Never did. I think I bought it because I'd saved up my pocket money, went up town and wanted to buy a single. I probably stood there looking at the charts not knowing what most of the other songs were, so plumped for the one that everybody else in The UK seemed to be buying at the time. It's been lost over time, but I'm sure the b-side was something like "Don't drive my car" and I remember being disappointed because it didn't even have a proper cover; just one of those paper sleeves.

The first album I bought was Kings Of The Wild Frontier by Adam and the Ants.
I was really into Adam and the Ants as a kid. I can remember going down to the local disco on a Friday night and begging the DJ to play "Ant Music" until I was blue in the face. It's a little worrying how much I was into them because I can remember buying Smash Hits magazine especially because it had an 'Adam Ant' skull and crossbones pendant free on the cover. The album got played over and over, mainly because it was the only one I owned for a while and I remember being particularly chuffed with the gatefold sleeve.

The first live concert I went to was Ozzy Osbourne at The NEC arena.
My best friend's dad dropped us off at the venue and picked us up after it was all over. I had to lie to my parents and tell them that my friend's dad was going to the concert as well, otherwise they would have never let me go. I was completely blown away by the loudness of the music, the stage theatrics and the fact he hung a dwarf on stage during the gig. He was probably completely off his tits at the time, but that didn't matter to a kid like me. I just loved the whole night, although I can't remember a damn song he played, apart from "Paranoid" of course.

The first car I owned was a Morris Marina 1300.
It was an old knacker, with rust spots everywhere and in a horrible orange colour. I think I drove it for about 3 weeks before seizing the engine up because nobody told me anything about checking the oil and water. As far as I was concerned, so long as there was petrol in it, it would go. Apparently not so.

The first time I flew in a plane was when our family emigrated to South Africa.
I can't remember the total flight time, but it felt like forever. The plane stopped off somewhere to refuel and everybody had to get off the plane while they refuelled and did certain checks. When we all boarded again, my dad had to rush off back to the restaurant that we'd been sat in for a break, because my brother had left his jacket on the back of the chair. I can remember my mum crying when the cabin crew kept saying we would have to leave without him because he was taking too long. He just about made it.

The first film I watched at the cinema was Grease.
I hated it. My mum loved it. I can appreciate it a lot more nowadays, but the memory of me sat there being bored out of my skull for what seemed like four hours still niggles at me. We had to queue around the side of the cinema for about an hour before it actually started. Oh and people could smoke in there too.

The first girl I kissed was called Cheryl.
I always thought it was pronounced with a 'ch' sound, as in 'chips' or 'chisel' and can remember pronouncing her name wrong for months before she actually corrected me by saying it was a 'sh' sound. We kissed behind the Science Block. Our school didn't have bike sheds. She'd been asking me out for ages, apparently because she liked my South African accent, but I kept saying no. For about a year, if I remember rightly.

The first book I read from cover to cover was Lightning by Dean R Koontz.
As a kid, I was more into magazines than books and consequently never finished a book until I was in my twenties. Yes, yes, I know that's bad. I even skipped reading the books for my English Literature exams because I could always find something better to do with my time. Once I'd tasted what it feels like to finish a book in it's entirety, I ploughed on....with more books by the same author, although I never thought any of his others came close. Spookily enough, The Girl cites Lightning as her favourite Koontz novel.

The first job I had was in some engineering Company.
To this day, I have no idea what my actual job title or role was. It was very noisy, very dirty, there were lots of big machines everywhere, they used to design and make things for the Aerospace Industry and everybody used to look like they hated working there. I lasted about six months before realising I could earn more money DJ'ing and would enjoy myself about a million times more.

The first time I got pulled over by the police was for a faulty brake light on my beloved orange Marina.
The only thing that's ever been more traumatising in my life was when my dad used to beat the shit out of me and my brother when we were kids. Because my brake light wasn't working, coupled with the fact my car was so obviously a piece of shit on wheels, the police officer checked every damn thing on my car; lights, tyres, brakes, everything. I had to get the light fixed and show a 'working declaration', stamped and signed by a local garage, along with all my driving documents to the local police station.

The first time I had sex was at a New Years eve party.
It was a horrendous experience and made me wonder just what the whole fuss was about, for a long, long time afterwards. It was a very short lived relationship and made me realise that having sex for the sake of having sex just isn't my bag, baby.

The first time I cried at a movie was my first encounter with The Dead Poet's Society.
Until then, I'd never been moved so much by such a wonderfully poignant story with such believable characters. Although I could never list my favourite ten movies, that one would surely be in there. It still moves me now, but I think the initial magic may be gone.

The first time I published myself on the web was on Livejournal.
I stuck with them for about two years before defecting to Deadjournal and then to Blogger. I had to move my Livejournal and Deadjournal accounts a couple of times because people I knew in real life found them and I hated the fact that I started to censor myself. So far, I've been lucky with Blogger and by remaining anonymous, but should that ever change, I wont even have to think twice about deleting this place.

Wednesday, October 17

We can get down like there's no one around. We'll keep on rockin'.

I appear to have chosen a line of work where the double entendres seem never ending:

"Hello, I understand you have a leaky pipe?"

"Yeah, your pipes aren't big enough to cope with it."

"The problem here is the flange."

"Ooh, it's gonna be tight getting it all to fit inside there, but I'll give it a go."

"It's just a dribble. I can sort that out by making it a tighter fit."

"You do realise that's not big enough to take a full dump, don't you?"

"Hi, I've been sent to check out your pipes."

"I'm gonna need to change your nuts. They don't seem to be doing their job properly."

"I would recommend flushing your system out"

"Your nipples probably need bleeding"

"Your hose is causing the problems."

"That cock is dribbling. It needs looking at right away before your problems get any worse."

"Some lubricant might help."

"Has somebody been messing with your pipes?"

Thursday, October 11

I had visions, I was in them, I was looking into the mirror. To see a little bit clearer. The rottenness and evil in me.

A few days ago, I felt ill.
Either bought on from contamination when I was at The Girl's house, or perhaps my poor eating habits. Either way, I felt crap and couldn't possibly face trying to eat anything for fear of it making a sudden and quite unwelcome reappearance. I retired to bed early with a glass of milk (which I'm now informed is not a good idea) and Good Will Hunting. Faced with the fact that I don't own a 'sick bowl', I made sure my path to the bathroom was clear. Just in case.

I'm possibly in the minority here by not having a 'sick bowl'. Every other house seems to have one, but I can't see it making itself appear on the 'must buy' list alongside a new cooker, curtains and/or blinds or the DVD boxset of Skins. And besides, when you buy new things for your house, you like to show them off. I quite like the idea of showing people my new cooker (eventually), but I don't feel the same enthusiasm at the thought of presenting them with my new 'sick bowl'.

I blame the DVD for my strange dream. It was all going so well as I watched The Girl bumping uglies with Minnie Driver, but suddenly took a downward turn when Minnie ripped off her face to reveal it was really Robin Williams. I should have guessed from the hairy hands. If that wasn't bad enough, The Girl ripped her face off and it was me. Now, I like Robin Willliams, but not in that way. I wish I'd have watched Pirates of the Caribbean. Who could possibly say no to a little of The Depp!?

Monday, October 8

One more drink and I'll be fine. One more girl to take you off my mind.

I don't have any beef with guys who drink per se.
I'm not sure if I can use the word "majority" when I say that when they've had a drink, the majority of guys are ok. Accurate statistics aren't really important.
What I do have a problem with is guys who get drunk and it consequently turns them into a fucking idiot. My use of the word "idiot" is by no means intended as definitive.
How about defining idiot as a guy who thinks he is invincible, either squaring up to others, becoming loud mouthed wankers or just generally acting as if he is the strongest guy around and nobody could take him on.
How about defining idiot as a guy who becomes convinced that every single girl in the same room as him thinks he's irresistible. No girl could possibly resist him, but if they do, he tosses them off by declaring he wasn't interested anyway or even worse, that they must be lesbian.
How about defining idiot as a guy who think that nothing he does or says is offensive to anyone. That doing things like grinding a stone down the side of a car, smashing car door mirrors, letting tyres down, pushing bins over, smashing glass in bus-stops or telephone boxes, pulling flowers out or anything else pointlessly destructive is just 'fun' or 'silly' and that people who think otherwise are just 'Party Poopers'.
How about defining idiot as a guy who think he can talk with his fists.
How about defining idiot as a guy who becomes an embarrassment for his friends.

I'm not a party pooper and I'm well aware that the "majority" (there's that word again) of guys who drink are good fun to be around. I'm also completely aware that having a drink relaxes and crumbles down one's inhibitions, so with guys who tend to be a little tight, it can bring them out of themselves a little. It's the guys who don't know their limits that piss me off. I also find them intimidating and will more often than not remove myself from their presence out of fear for being dragged into something.
What I can't understand is, if guys know what they get like when they've had one too many, why oh why do they continue to push that limit. Why don't they realise that they could stop acting like an "idiot" if they just didn't drink as much. I'm sure the world would be a better place.

I have a friend who is the sort who you would describe as "one of the nicest guys I know". When he's had one too many, he turns....he changes....he evolves into what I can only describe as a sexual leech. He becomes predatory and leery. His conversations include as many double entendres as they can and when he's had way too many, he becomes openly suggestive.
An old friend of mine used to turn into a violent bashing machine. I can remember going to his house for the first time, his girlfriend embarrassed as I asked what all the holes in the walls and doors were.
Even my brother goes into "idiot" mode when he's had too many. Most of the time he's a lovable drunk, but I've been on the receiving end of text messages and phone calls from my sister-in-law, asking for help because he's had too many.
I used to get embarrassed when my mates used to go on the prowl in the pubs and clubs. Trying to get them to see sense always fell on deaf ears and often I'd find myself apologising to the girls and then leaving. Any further attempts by me to make them see sense usually resulted in a pointing, prodding and squaring up situation.

I've never been a big drinker myself. I could probably count on one hand how many times I've been really drunk. I've done my fair share of drinking in my younger days, but I think I lost interest in it quite early from when I used to go clubbing and see all the trouble it used to cause. Getting innocently dragged into fights probably didn't help either.
Nowadays, if I have a drink it's more to loosen up. I quite like the loose feeling. Merry is also a good place to be on occasion.

I had my door mirror smashed on Saturday night. I was staying over at The Girl's house and couldn't park right outside like I normally do. I had to park on an adjacent street, but it was still no more than 20 metres from her house. Not that that make a difference anyway because I've had it done before and I was parked right outside that time. Somebody's 'fun' is a pain in the arse to me. Not only do I have to find the money to replace the mirror and fix any internal workings that got damaged, but in the meantime, any driving I do is compromised by a lack of a vital item.

Friday, October 5

If you let go, the music should move your bones. Just remember....

Friday night....
Shouldn't I be out somewhere, or doing something, or being somewhere else that doesn't resemble my living room. I'm not depressed about being here. I'm not down about it or feeling sad. It just feels a little odd, like something's amiss.

I haven't worked enough this week, which is disappointing. The week before was great. No point in me losing sleep over it, it's just how it's been. Besides, this week coming could be brilliant.

The new series of Heroes is disappointing so far. I didn't expect that. I just hope Lost keeps up the standard when it returns.

I'm taking part in The Shuffleathon again, over at SwissToni's place.
I'm currently battling to cut my shortlist down. I may be some time because at last count, I was still about 20 songs too many.

Weird post huh?
Yeah, weird mood.

Tuesday, October 2

There's Winston Churchill dressed in drag. He used to be a British flag, plastic bag, what a drag.

After suffering a brief spell of incommunicado, we finally exchanged emails tonight.
We haven't arranged a meeting yet. We're still at the 'getting to know you' stage.
He's briefed himself as 30, gay, into sports, professional, reliable and honest.

What more could a guy ask for?!

Monday, October 1

The candy sweetness scent of you, it bathes my skin, I'm stained by you.

I'd be a liar if I didn't admit that the conversation with The Girl worried me slightly.
We seemed to have a difference of opinion about the similarity between licking and sucking someone's earlobes and going down on a girl.