The World According To Me

Okay, I have to post because I need to get it all off my chest. Police & Fireman's Ball 2005. Possibly the hottest social event in all Sheppidy town. I had my ticket for 4 months prior, my dress for 2 months, the gorgeous fake tan appointment and the booking to turn my hair into something resembling something that a passenger on the good ship lollipop might sport.

Even better, I had a date lined up. A boy, whom I have been 'seeing' for about a month now, who had offered to travel the 350km to partner me to the ball.

I just should have said 'No thanks'.

I'm not going to go into great detail about the boy, apart from to give some background on why I have entitled this post the way I have. He shouldn't drink, he knows he shouldn't drink and usually, he doesn't drink. Until Saturday. This has been a point of contention since we started seeing eachother, in that he is adamant that he doesn't like to drink because he knows what it does to him, and well....I'm a bit of a pisshead and quite enjoy same.

Might I just add a side point here, to say that I looked like a f*cking sexy bitch. I'll freely proffer my own self-admiring views here without shame. I looked HOT.

Anyway, the boy got suited up, looking mighty fine (in my eyes), we had a couple of starters at home. All the time he maintains that he is not going to have a lot of drinks, he will take it easy. We arrive at the ball and he sees someone he used to go to school with and hasn't seen for 7 years, so takes off and speaks to them for a while. I think "Great, at least he won't be hanging off me", as I had previously been a little concerned about. So, after a little while of me doing my own thing and him doing his, I go over to see how's he's travelling, and it is quite clear that by the time I made it to the table he was sitting at, he was goddamn blind drunk.

It went sharply downhill from there. He was rude, arrogant, nasty and an absolute c*ckhead. My friends, for the most part, hated him from then on, and with good reason. I stressed and stressed, quaffing wine and trying to figure out what to do to make the situation better. But basically, I couldn't. Damage done, he had offended my mates and acquaintances by being an arsehole to me, which in turn made some of them quite livid. Completely unacceptable. Not to mention that by this time I was also so angry I just wanted to slap the prick across the face and then follow up with a swift kick to the nuts.

He then decided it was time for him to go home, citing that he'd had enough to drink and knew he needed to leave. I'd have to disagree there, in that he should have left about 3 hours previously, but that's by the by.

So I tried to do the right thing, and find us a cab and take him home. He continued to be a c*nt all the way home and I lay in bed wondering what the fuck I had done wrong to deserve such a terrible night.

But before you all start to get angry with me as well for being such a goddamn cock-whipped wimp....I know. I know he acted like an arsehole. The way he behaved was absolutely deplorable and I will not accept being spoken to in a way that makes me upset. I've no time for that shit, and I don't deserve it. No-one does.

So the next morning, we awake and I don't even want to look at him. After a time of not speaking to him and trying, in my mind, to formulate the best way to address the issue without using the word c*nt, I eventually turn to him and ask him if he remembers last night at all. He admits he's a bit vague. I say to him "I'm not going to bring up details that you can't recall, but I will say this. If we ever have the slightest chance of seeing eachother again, you will not drink in my presence. You were so different, an absolute c*ck. You embarrassed me, ruined my night and my friends already dislike you. It's not a good start for us". At which, he gets his back up quite considerably, and the conversation ends much in the same way as it had the night before.

But as his alcohol levels drop, his presence of mind returns, and I see him change throughout the morning back into the lovely, sweet guy I have been dating, and who I had begun to have some pretty squishy feelings for.

The rest of the weekend passed without incident, and in fact he stayed an extra night than planned, and we've had a great time. Last night he asked me what I thought of Saturday night (okay, it obviously didn't need to be asked, but I think he wanted me to get it all off my chest) and I told him that I was extremely disappointed with the way he had conducted himself, and that I wouldn't tolerate it ever again. One chance.

And no, an apology does not exonerate him. If we are to have any future together at all, he will have to work damn hard to try and convince my friends that he is worthy. Somehow I don't think that will be a possibility, but he will have to try.


I've done a lot of thinking in the last month about what it is to be happy, and what it is to find happiness. At the outset of this whole thing, I expressed my concerns to a very very dear friend of mine about the boy's obvious blemishes. She, in her wisdom of 15 years of marriage, said to me that she was afraid for me. Afraid that I was hanging out to find myself this mythical 'perfect' man, who matched up to my intricate and detailed set of pre-requisites, and that I might never find him. She explained to me (and yes, I already knew) that no-one is perfect. Everybody has their faults, their problems, their pasts, their niggles. And it's because of their imperfections that you love someone, not despite them. I'm certainly not perfect. Not even close. I've got enough issues to drive people away screaming. But if this boy is willing to take a chance on me, accepting me for who I am, then I'm willing to give him the same courtesy. I like him, and I can't help that. Notwithstanding the fact that if he ever gets roaring drunk again and fucks up like he did, I will dump his arse hard.

So okay, next time I blog I may very well eat my words, but for now, I've made my decision.