It’s been six months since my last blog. Six months and I’ve got nothing to report. My 30 year old turned out to be a Freezer. Not of the kitchen appliance variety, but in the sense that he was one of those guys that will freeze you out completely rather than tell you that they don’t want to go out with you again for whatever reason. You could literally walk up to them in the street and slap them with a kipper and they’d still probably pretend they couldn’t see you. Getting frozen is a blessing in disguise in my opinion, because any guy that’s too cowardly too break things off with you by actually telling you they’re breaking things off, is definitely not the kind of guy you want to go out with. Since then, a friendship with a guy called Jack has become a bit more complicated. His name’s not Jack of course but referring to guys by their age or how we met is becoming exhaustingly difficult. Jack and I are good friends, we get on very well and when he was with his ex girlfriend, I kind of wished he wanted to go out with me. When they broke up, it quickly became clear he felt the same way, however by this time, I was seeing a 30 year old freezer. Now we’re both single, we’ve shared a few cheeky snogs and I’ve slept in his bed (sexless of course, I’m classy remember). But as the increasingly likely possibility of us getting together creeps up on me, I’ve done the inevitable thing and changed my mind.

I also had a fleeting crush on…Greg…we’ll call him Greg, a guy I met through my friend and housemate. It’s mainly a physical thing, i.e. I’d like to rip his clothes off but he’s far too alternative and emotionally complicated for me to contemplate a relationship with. Furthermore, he’s certainly not the type of man I could take home to my Mother; covered in tattoos and no real job prospects doesn’t exactly scream perfect son-in-law. We nearly had sex, twice. But to no avail, I was hoping he could end my dry spell and then I could move on to find a more appropriate suitor, however Mother Nature wouldn’t even grant me that small favour. Damn that monthly bitch. The second time was alcohol related, or at least that’s what I keep telling myself, either way I don’t think I can blame Mother Nature for that one. After two disappointing encounters the lustful longing has somewhat died and I’m over it.

And so 6 months later, I am back to square one. This can only be a positive, because when Chris Hemsworth is tragically abandoned by his wife and child, I’ll be here waiting for him with a shoulder to cry on and a bed to get over her in. Winner.