Wednesday 23 September 2009
Monday 21 September 2009
Jaqui's Guide to Dating: Chapter 7
Chapter 7:
Having Eaten The Apple
I don't know if you've ever woken up and wanted to chew your arm off. But you can't because you're so hungover that if you even gnash your teeth together you get that tense feeling in your jaw and you feel vomitorious may erupt at any second. It takes you a brief moment to realise that you are in fact naked and then the flashbacks come and smack you over the head; a montage of flashbacks without the inspirational theme tune.
There are options at this point and they vary depending on whether or not you've had an away game or a friendly home game. Before we get to options I suppose I better clarify how you got yourself into this naked, shameful, chew-your-appendages-off position.
I suppose, like every good scenario, it started in the bar. You were merrily quaffing a decent bottle of fine white with some mates and he came over and joined you. You know he's a good bloke because you've had elevator chats, smoke chats, train chats, "etc." chats with him and every time he's given you a diatribe involving "love" and "girlfriend". He refers to her as "my girlfriend" which reminds you of that scene in the English Patient where Ralph Fiennes abhors ownership; well at least I am reminded of that. You know him reasonably well and therefore if he suddenly said 'Wendy and I are going to share a Chinese and watch Marley and Me' you would know he was referring to his girlfriend. On the contrary it's always 'my girlfriend and I are going to cuddle on the couch and share a slab of chocolate'. Of course she's the type of girl who eats chocolate and doesn't care because she's naturally skinny and beautiful. You hate her already. Anyway said bloke, joins you and you're not remotely phased because he's name-dropped "my girlfriend" at least three times in two minutes and you're quite sure he's about as interested in you as a personal trainer is in a fat betty.
You're quaffing your wine and he's guzzling his beer. Your mates have dropped off throughout the course of the evening and the next thing you know you're alone and completely ass-about-face shooting tequila and solving the mysteries of the universe with this bloke. Any mention of "my girlfriend" ceased about two hours ago. You forget quite how it happened, one minute you were downing tequila, the next you were slumped in a toilet cubicle, the next you were on a bus and then somehow he gained access to your house. No matter, you open a bottle of wine and continue solving universal conundrums.
That's where it starts to get hazy in the inebriated montage of shame. At some point there was snogging and then the next thing you know you're awake naked in bed. (For the record if you ended up at his place it's little matter at this point, the only thing that changes is the exit strategy.)
You're desperately trying to piece together where it all went wrong and simultaneously trying to stay as still and silent as possible. It's better that he's sleeping although the sight of him makes you want to rip out your eyes with a blunt piece of plastic. Surely you didn't really? I'm afraid to tell you that you did. After agonising minutes, hours, seconds you cannot bare it anymore and you begin strategising operation bugger off/fuck off out my house.
Whether you're leaving or he's leaving it's key for you not to have to display your naked suit. It is thus essential to robe-up before his lids open, this way you have the upper hand. No one wants to be the only naked body in the bed. Secondly you want to make sure that if you're leaving you have everything with you. My mate once left her "lucky bra" at a random's house and let's just say her napovers became very scarce thereafter; also you don't want an excuse to have to see this bloke ever again.
Once you've robed up and have all your shit together the ideal option is to flee. However if he's awake you may just want to do the awkward "visit sick granny in hospital" speech. Once you're out of his house you can sit back and enjoy your journey on the bus of shame. On the flip side if he's in your bed then the power you hold is immense. If you're in full attire and he's still napping you can either bring him the subtle "fuck off out my house coffee" or you can merely shout 'oi it's time to go!' No matter he'll have to chug down hot coffee or simply put his clothes on whilst you glare at him. It's good to put the shame on the other foot if and when you can. To avoid maximum self shame make him feel like utter crap, after all he's the one with the girlfriend.
Things become more complicated if he's robed up before you. You do not want to be on the receiving end of "fuck-off coffee" or have him watch you whilst you play "hunt the knickers" (it's always the bloody knickers that escape you). If you do find yourself in this position it's near impossible to retain any sense of dignity and the bus of shame home will be almost unbearable.
You think to youself, 'so, I've eaten the apple and it wasn't as tasty as I'd hoped' and what's more it's come with an extra serving of guilt. You know it's guilt sex because you wake up and you couldn't be further away from him if you tried. The normal post napover cuddle is about as likely as breakfast in bed with a single red rose. You''ll be lucky if you get an awkward conversation out of the guy let alone any kind of bodily contact. Pillow talk involves the simple phrase "I'm dying..." or "Jesus I'm never drinking again".
When you get home you take a long look in the mirror and vow never to drink again and you wonder how he's feeling. What you don't realise is that it's so simple to be male, he's simply gone out and bought a nice big bunch of sorry flowers for his girlfriend and he's cunningly disguised them as a nice gesture.
Having Eaten The Apple
I don't know if you've ever woken up and wanted to chew your arm off. But you can't because you're so hungover that if you even gnash your teeth together you get that tense feeling in your jaw and you feel vomitorious may erupt at any second. It takes you a brief moment to realise that you are in fact naked and then the flashbacks come and smack you over the head; a montage of flashbacks without the inspirational theme tune.
There are options at this point and they vary depending on whether or not you've had an away game or a friendly home game. Before we get to options I suppose I better clarify how you got yourself into this naked, shameful, chew-your-appendages-off position.
I suppose, like every good scenario, it started in the bar. You were merrily quaffing a decent bottle of fine white with some mates and he came over and joined you. You know he's a good bloke because you've had elevator chats, smoke chats, train chats, "etc." chats with him and every time he's given you a diatribe involving "love" and "girlfriend". He refers to her as "my girlfriend" which reminds you of that scene in the English Patient where Ralph Fiennes abhors ownership; well at least I am reminded of that. You know him reasonably well and therefore if he suddenly said 'Wendy and I are going to share a Chinese and watch Marley and Me' you would know he was referring to his girlfriend. On the contrary it's always 'my girlfriend and I are going to cuddle on the couch and share a slab of chocolate'. Of course she's the type of girl who eats chocolate and doesn't care because she's naturally skinny and beautiful. You hate her already. Anyway said bloke, joins you and you're not remotely phased because he's name-dropped "my girlfriend" at least three times in two minutes and you're quite sure he's about as interested in you as a personal trainer is in a fat betty.
You're quaffing your wine and he's guzzling his beer. Your mates have dropped off throughout the course of the evening and the next thing you know you're alone and completely ass-about-face shooting tequila and solving the mysteries of the universe with this bloke. Any mention of "my girlfriend" ceased about two hours ago. You forget quite how it happened, one minute you were downing tequila, the next you were slumped in a toilet cubicle, the next you were on a bus and then somehow he gained access to your house. No matter, you open a bottle of wine and continue solving universal conundrums.
That's where it starts to get hazy in the inebriated montage of shame. At some point there was snogging and then the next thing you know you're awake naked in bed. (For the record if you ended up at his place it's little matter at this point, the only thing that changes is the exit strategy.)
You're desperately trying to piece together where it all went wrong and simultaneously trying to stay as still and silent as possible. It's better that he's sleeping although the sight of him makes you want to rip out your eyes with a blunt piece of plastic. Surely you didn't really? I'm afraid to tell you that you did. After agonising minutes, hours, seconds you cannot bare it anymore and you begin strategising operation bugger off/fuck off out my house.
Whether you're leaving or he's leaving it's key for you not to have to display your naked suit. It is thus essential to robe-up before his lids open, this way you have the upper hand. No one wants to be the only naked body in the bed. Secondly you want to make sure that if you're leaving you have everything with you. My mate once left her "lucky bra" at a random's house and let's just say her napovers became very scarce thereafter; also you don't want an excuse to have to see this bloke ever again.
Once you've robed up and have all your shit together the ideal option is to flee. However if he's awake you may just want to do the awkward "visit sick granny in hospital" speech. Once you're out of his house you can sit back and enjoy your journey on the bus of shame. On the flip side if he's in your bed then the power you hold is immense. If you're in full attire and he's still napping you can either bring him the subtle "fuck off out my house coffee" or you can merely shout 'oi it's time to go!' No matter he'll have to chug down hot coffee or simply put his clothes on whilst you glare at him. It's good to put the shame on the other foot if and when you can. To avoid maximum self shame make him feel like utter crap, after all he's the one with the girlfriend.
Things become more complicated if he's robed up before you. You do not want to be on the receiving end of "fuck-off coffee" or have him watch you whilst you play "hunt the knickers" (it's always the bloody knickers that escape you). If you do find yourself in this position it's near impossible to retain any sense of dignity and the bus of shame home will be almost unbearable.
You think to youself, 'so, I've eaten the apple and it wasn't as tasty as I'd hoped' and what's more it's come with an extra serving of guilt. You know it's guilt sex because you wake up and you couldn't be further away from him if you tried. The normal post napover cuddle is about as likely as breakfast in bed with a single red rose. You''ll be lucky if you get an awkward conversation out of the guy let alone any kind of bodily contact. Pillow talk involves the simple phrase "I'm dying..." or "Jesus I'm never drinking again".
When you get home you take a long look in the mirror and vow never to drink again and you wonder how he's feeling. What you don't realise is that it's so simple to be male, he's simply gone out and bought a nice big bunch of sorry flowers for his girlfriend and he's cunningly disguised them as a nice gesture.
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