Men are shits

I had a frantic phone call this morning from my chum the Art Dealer. Lycra had discovered that her chap was in fact married with two children. She found this out through Facebook.

Not the fact that she saw a picture of him WEARING a wedding ring with two kids. No he managed to talk that away with 'oh sometimes I just wear a ring for fun'.

It was when Lycra contacted a mutual friend and said 'sorry if this sounds mad but is X seeing someone?' the person called back and said he was married.

The shit. What makes it worse are the following two facts

1) When he was with her he was constantly talking about their future and how they were going to get married

2) Once found out he has threatened her with 'mercenaries' if she tells anyone about the affair.

I mean seriously, is there any need for this behaviour?

The madness of Chuck

Today was long and slow. This is because I had almost no sleep (my fault). Silly Louche. So I had to slog through the day just trying to hold it together until I could get home and go to bed. I need to pick out my look for tomorrow, but that shouldn't take long.

Chuck emailed me today to apologise for 'nearly banging your door down'. So not just a load of text messages but also smashing on the door. Lawks, that's borderline frightening.

The upshot of this is that I'm going to shave off the Elvis style sideburns, they are just too potent. I'm not ready for this level of responsibility.

P.S. Why do some women act like this? I mean she really 'had me' for a while and then she very thoroughly smashed me to pieces. I've moved on and now she wants attention?

The Stalker Index

A chum of mine is having a bit of an issue with her ex-boyfriend. He was, a little controlling and they have split up but remain 'friends' because they met through business and they still work together on some bits and bobs.

His actions have got a bit intense since she joined Facebook. Every time a chap comments on her page or she talks to a man, or even become friends with a man he instantly phones her up to ask who they were and what was going on. Not terribly healthy as I'm sure you can imagine.

Anyway yesterday she decided to restrict what he could see on Facebook. Tucked away in the settings is a way of limiting what someone sees of you online so that to them your profile is static and unchanging. This means that while you still remain 'a friend' on Facebook nothings really going on there.

I talked her through how to do this and joked at the time that we would get an idea of her ex-boyfriend's Stalker Index by how long it took him to notice. If it was a month or so, well it doesn't even register, a week is okay too. A day or so and it's starting to get a bit concerning and if he texted her angrily about what she did before the day is out well that started to get a bit worrying. If of course he raged at her in hours then he was obsessively checking her profile and it was a bit scary really.

In the end the text arrived after 15 minutes, yup he was checking her profile that regularly. Oh dear indeed.

Why don't you come over to mine to work?

A simple enough question.

Between two chaps it can mean just the facts. I have somewhere we could work let us work there. Although it normally means lets work for a bit and then you will start trying on my hats and then we will get drunk and before you know it we will be on the Eurostar to Paris to see if our Schoolboy French is good enough to pick up Parisian girls. It wasn't if you were wondering, sadly asking where the train station is repeatedly while winking is not enough anymore. But that is a different story for a another time.

Anyway, I have a friend coming over to do some work here. A female friend with curves, eyelashes and all the other lovely things about women. It was supposed to be brunch, and then it turned into tea and now she is going to come here for a bit and we shall decide what happens next. This girl has appeared previously in this blog and was known as the Party Organiser. Lets link back to a blog that pretty much sums up our relationship so far - Many Girls in Pants.

For those that can't be bothered to look she is stunning, dark haired and more than a bit firey and sort of thinks I'm a moron. Actually that's not fair anymore these days she just thinks I'm a bit slow, with hair that is too long.

So I used to swoon at the slightest chance she would appear. Recently my ardour has cooled a bit. I still think she is stunning but I realise it would never work between us as anything more than friends. So friends we shall be.

Which is a surprisingly grown up statement I feel a chap could do well to think like that more often. Still it doesn't hurt to put on a nice shirt if she is coming around, possibly a smoking jacket one just happens to have knocking around.

Looking back

Last Friday, flush with picking up contract, I decided to meet up with my old work chums in the local for a drink or two. I thought it would be like it used to be, how wrong I was.

It was weird, what I used to adore had changed and now it was just some women, drunk, smoking a lot (I had to have a second shower when I got home to get rid of the smell) and being strange. I think it was because I turned up later when they were all blissfully drunk, but part of it was because of the new girl.

The new sub-editor is a dominatrix, and she was a nightmare. I don't normally get on with domintrixes (dominatrixi?) because they expect men to do what they say but this one was extra awful. She tried to get me to lick beer off her fingers, I said 'I would prefer not' to which she called me weak and a chicken. As I'm not Marti McFly, it didn't work.

So she tried to get me to do her bidding a second time and I said my girlfriend was scarier than her so I would have to decline. She made a go away hand-waving motion to me, but as she was trashed she smacked me in the face.

I left a bit after that, I hate dominatrixes.

Oh and the ex-TLI was there (the girl who had consumed me this time last year) and well she looked fragile and slightly mental. Oh how your opinion of someone changes when you are not looking at them properly.