Saturday, May 9, 2009


One of the side effects of being cripplingly shy is that it's very difficult to bring up 'feelings'. This translates to that whenever i get drunk the bottled emotions and thoughts come pouring out and all i can do is listen in amazement at what is being said.

I asked The Housemate where things were going last night. I also told him that I loved him. Problem is i don't remember much of what happened, only that i started crying, he comforted me, i ran to the bathroom to be sick and then we had sex twice.

This morning all i could remember as he lay next to me was that he had said he didn't love me and i cried silently beside him. (I really don't want to be on the pill anymore, it's making my emotions go haywire) This afternoon i was telling an anecdote which he stopped me midway through, gently reminding me that i'd told it him last night, when i was trashed. I admitted i couldn't remember much, apart from the one thing. So he put me right. Apparently he said that he doesn't want to label it (which i concur with) and that he isn't in love with me. However, he said he is very very fond of me and doesn't want to do what we do with anyone else.

The anti-love thing is a throwback to his ol' Emotionally-damaged-don't-feel-nuthin-no-more thing, which i know, deep down, is total bullshit and just him scared of admitting it. I'm not clamoring for a boyfriend, i guess i just wanted some reassurance of how he's feeling. Problem with him is that he's like the lyrics of one of his infernal songs. It's all subtext and i'm getting better at reading it. When he says he's 'Very very fond', wraps me in his arms and wont let me go, it means a lot more than he's letting on, and the inferrence from him is that i should be able to pick up on it.

It's a big leap forward from our last conversation all those months ago. I guess this just comes down to baby steps, one step at a time. For now, however, i am his and he is mine.

p.s. Drunken sex can be dangerous when the alcohol is preventing you from feeling pain. I'm still do darn tight and finding blood and pain the next morning is not fun.

Wednesday, April 22, 2009


It's been an age and i've been neglecting this - the reason being that instead of writing down my life i've been living it. The Housemate and I have limited time together and i've been making the most of it as possible.

Last week the rest of the boys went off on rugby tour leaving the two of us alone. It was... well... wonderful. I've never been so casually groped in my life, cuddling on the sofa, holding hands... It got to the point where I was almost thinking; Gosh, this wouldn't be so bad. I could do this for a while. He's shy in public and just the two of us being together gave him the opportunity to relax and be himself. We've even started casually kissing as a way of saying goodbye - this from the man for whom frenching is saved for very special occasions.

He's started to talk about seeing my parents and visiting me in Oxford next year. He texts me during the day even though he's going to see me in a couple of hours, when he gets into one of his terrible moods he apologizes in advance and lets me know why so i don't worry.

The idea of having to leave him in a few months hurts more than i can possibly convey, i'm clinging to the idea that when my Oxford business is up and running i can open another shop in London and hopefully set up home here.

My Sister: He's so in love with you.
Me: I know, it's bizzare, what do i do?
My Sister: You don't have to do anything sweetheart, that's the point!

Monday, March 16, 2009


Oh, and I scooped another attached man. Nothing further than making out though, so i don't think it really counts, right?

Ah, who the fuck am i kidding.

Don't worry, it was very stealthy

Me: I have such an Indian fetish right now.
Friend: Really?
Me: Yeah... that's probably why I let that Indian guy finger me on the union balcony.
Friend: What?!
Me: It's cool, i know him.

Thursday, February 26, 2009


I'll get to what happened on Valentines later. First i have some good news and some bad news.

The bad news is that The Housemate had sex with the American. Once. It was before we did and not since. Apparently everyone knew this and the inference was that i was supposed to know too. It came up during a post-coital conversation about how my newly discovered sexual techniques were coming along and The Housemate told me that i was better than her. (oh, and the best head he's ever had ftw) Truth be told i feel a little sickened. I think back to the nights i saw them together, the times he didn't come home and then the sudden avoidance of her.

The sickness aside i can't really be angry about it. It was back during the awkward and rocky non-exclusive time, (that, looking back on, i'm impressed i got out of so well) and i've done worse since. During that time i was kissing boys and girls and collecting phone numbers. Since we slept together, and he's been exclusive, i've hooked up with two other guys, one in my own bed, one al fresco on Valentines day, and made out with a man in the corridor outside his room. Not to mention the numerous other people i've shared drunken makout sessions with in the union and in bars and flirty email and text exchanges with old conquests. (The newly singletons Daniel and Nice Guy)

Actually, looking at that written down, i'm a bit of a bitch. If he'd done what i'd done i'd had finished it - hypocritical i know.

The good news is that we kinda almost sorta said that we loved each other. Well, kind of. We basically told each other that we knew the other was in love. He started it. We were having a long conversation, the kind i can usually only get out of him with water torture, and i admitted that i adored him. He went one step further and corrected me, told me that i was feeling the big L. I admitted it and asked how he felt, he said he was unable to feel love for anyone. This is something that he's always maintained, that his heart is now stone.

I thought about this for a while as we talked and for some reason things became clearer than they've been this whole time. It's like i finally managed to read into what he was trying(?) to tell me. I rolled over and told him that it was okay, that i knew he was nuts about me.

Me: Go on, say it. Ruby, i'm nuts about you.
Him: Snarf, I'm conkers about you.

(Snarf, from thundercats, is his nickname for me...)

I told him that i got it now, that i knew he was just as in love with me as i was with him only he didn't want to form a relationship because it would end and he didn't want to be hurt again.
(FYI, this is pretty fucking deep coming from me)

He was silent for a moment, just staring straight ahead, then said, "Well you've pretty much hit the nail on the head there".

So, as declarations of love go, how did we do?


Him: You've pretty much hit the nail on the head there. Haven't you ever wondered why i haven't written a song about you yet?
Me: ...
Him: Think about it, you'll get it.
Me: ... You only write about things that depress you?
Him: Exactly. You make me happy.

Sunday, February 15, 2009


From this week's postsecret:


Saturday, February 14, 2009



I just rolled in at 6am with grass stains all over the back of my coat.

God i fucking love Valentines day!