Having recently experienced how it feels to temporarily lose a portion of your mind (calling yourself an ambulance, for future reference, is apparently not standard practice for someone having a panic attack), i've been forced to evaluate the potential unhealthy aspects of my life. Of course this has been a fantastic excuse to over analyse the past year's romantic endeavours, all of which have had a similarly miserable conclusion and unearthed a 'type' i never thought i had.
In acknowledgement of anonymity, i'll be looking to the stars for this one, BEGINNING WITH (i've been sat here for 15 minutes now trying to work out birthdays via various social networks):
~A Q U A R I U S~
In my early months at university and in classic 'shit i dont know anybody' style, i slithered back to an ex. Ultimately i think it's important not to confuse free, quality powders with affection, as i certainly did. Still, an all northern household to creep back to in the early hours is remarkably comforting after you've forced a night out at the SU with a group of people you don't really know or like. Thankyou Aquarius, i cherish the occasional facebook or instagram comment, you inevitably disappointing, lying toad.
~C A N C E R~
First i must admit this romance never really er, blossomed. Beginning and ending with awkward snogs in Peckham, it was in this i thought i was getting a glimpse of how london could really be for me: dating someone who writes for a widely known and loathed magazine with a few thousand twitter followers #thedream. Admittedly, it did gain me access to the sort of party i can tell my kids about when i'm 43, and recall at every dinner party after 3 glasses of wine, exaggerating the reality that was simply me sat wired in a bedroom playing with a kitten, while the host and a bunch of people she probably didn't know danced topless in the living room. Thanks for that (yeah saying cancer here just sounds a bit grim), you were charming and my best friend still begs me to rekindle our tiny romance xoxo.
~A R I E S~
As with Cancer, i began talking to Aries on twitter, which i have since been slated for by everyone i know because let's face it, twitter to me is just okcupid for the image conscious youth. Because i'm constantly worried about not being fun enough, i decided it was perfectly reasonable to get a megabus to leeds and sleep at his parents house for a weekend having never actually met him. This revealed a lanky, fidgeting, effeminate, chain smoking yorkshire boy who i argued with 80% of the time until he came once to london, revealing he had his very own bertha mason in the attic. unsurprisingly that's when the romance dwindled. I'm not sure what happens at the end of jane eyre but i get the feeling it isn't a two hour phone call from brighton pier about how shit boys are and can you PLEASE forget your girlfriend.
~L E O~
What do you do when two previous twitter romances haven't worked out? Have another one. (I'd like to insert here that i am not the instigator in any of this). This endeavour, remarkably, is to some extent still ongoing but destined to inevitable failure when i return to the north east in about 2 weeks. Unfortunate Leo has had to witness my minor meltdown first hand and as such i'll try not to curse it further by listing his shortfallings on the internet. What i will say is that this lanky effeminate thing is becoming more and more my 'type'; bearded man in dalston i was as surprised as you were when i didn't fancy you. It seems that the classic goldsmiths second year i thought i was longing for in fact couldn't excite me less. So here's to 2 weeks of faux-security.
I guess the only natural conclusion can be a hello to all the creepy long boys out there, let me underwhelm you from the bottom of my heart, #xo