I had a cup of cement (2010-06-29)

Dear Gallus,

So, this is not the letter I was talking about before. Essentially I got myself out of the house, stopped wallowing and got my head back in the game. Which is not to say that it might not be written in the future, but it has been shelved for the moment.

This is something different, related in part to an earlier entry, but still, I feel the need to say it.

What the fuck is with some women and their desperate need for attention and affection in the form of a boyfriend?? Please note, I do not refer to those in relationships, rather those who are so desperate to have one they end up living in a fantasy land of subtext and imagined flirtation.

I went to dinner on Sat night with a girl I know from my trip (K.T) and someone that she met when she first came to London. K.T is awesome, this is about the other one, we shall call her...Desperata.

She spent the better part of 2 hours talking about this guy she spoke to at the pub and all of these other ones that she is debating whether to meet online. About their body language and the way they wrote certain things and what that might possibly mean and and and complete and utter bullshit, there really is no other description for it.

By the end K.T was so bored she was actually looking at her watch. And I know that if it had been just us, she totally would have suggested we went out for a coffee after, but she just wanted to get the fuck out. Thus I ended up with Desperata on the tube, where she continued to wax lyrical about the "alpha male" body language. (No, I am not making that up)

Needless to say, this put all of my obsession about you slightly in perspective.

K.T and I met for a picnic in front of the Tate the next day and we both agreed- that girl needs to get her fucking priorities in order. She doesn't have a job yet and she is obsessed with whether or not some guy put his hand on the wall behind her and that this "alpha male body language" (goddess, I can't even type that with a straight face) turned off some other random guy.

I was much less critical in my conversation with K.T than I was inside my head when I was thinking about it, coz the truth is, what I really want to do is yell at Desperata at the top of my lungs:


And that's the crux of it really- I spent my weekend doing AMAZING things. I was bored, so I went to the Tate modern. The Tate!! Just for the hell of it!! One of the foremost modern art galleries in the world and I just wandered over on a Saturday morning- by myself- and spent time amongst the exhibits. My fav was this incredible tree sculpture that the artist had carved from an industrially cut block along the original knots. (As nature is reduced to a manmade item, so can a man take the item back to nature retroactively)

Anyway, I was staring and admiring and I had one of the curators come up to me and ask me what I thought of the piece. And we proceeded to have a half an hour conversation about it- he was impressed I got the subtext- and other pieces and why I liked them. It was incredible! That would never happen in Australia, ever!

And then I was on my way to meet K.T at her place and I wandered into the Borough markets by accident. And then the next day we went back to the grass in front of the Tate and chillaxed and looked over the Thames to St Pauls and I looked at K.T and said "We live in London" and she grinned at me and said "Yeah, it's awesome hey!"

And Desperata is missing it. She's missing the fact that she is living in one of the most culturally vibrant, crazy, bustling, incredible cities in the world. She's too busy thinking about guys- what the fuck?! You have your entire LIFE to obsess about boys and their bullshit, meanwhile you will have been in London and no, you might not meet the love of your life, but so what?? You get to do a million and one cool things that you would never even have the OPTION of considering back home.

All I can think of after listening to her crap on about such totally boring things was that I am so ridiculously relieved that I have better things to do than worry about that shit.

And this makes me reflect on you and the fact that really my life could have so damn easily gone the other way. I am so glad that I broke away from all of the fears and insecurities and crap that kept me trapped within my old life. And ironically I have you to thank for it.

If you had never broken my heart and made me question my entire outlook on well, everything, I never would have moved away and gotten some space and some badly needed perspective. I never would have gotten the balls to live across the other side of the world and travel to new countries where I don't speak the language and not just not be afraid, but positively THRIVE on the experience.

If you had never broken me, I wouldn't be who I am today, doing the things I get to do. Don't get me wrong, I still think you're a dick, but I don't hate you for what you did any more. The not hating myself for getting involved with you bit is still a work in progress, but hey, it's only Monday :)


P.S Next weekend I'm going to the V&A. Fuck me, my life is cool!

heart - break

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