The Girls of the SMARTBuddy Mansion

Diary: I recently read some of my old posts and enjoyed remembering how I was thinking at the time, how perspectives have changed and so on, so I’m going to do another post for my own benefit in 6 months time...

The current crop from the mansion are:

Carrie from Christmas eve had, as she does, slipped from my mind until I just read my list of posts on my Blogger Dashboard. The day after I posted about her I was pointed in the direction of her FaceBook account by the C-Unit and messaged her, but have received nothing back. I wish I hadn’t been so clever in my message now. I can’t possibly send another. It’s probably for the best. She's called Carrie from Christmas Eve for a reason.

Girl A has moved to Australia. Oh well.

LEA is somewhat missing in action. We text a bit, but I think she’s more lonely than interested, but I’m not sure. She’s great, and we have ‘potential’, but I don’t think I’ll even see her until the spring or summer, by which time she will probably be married.

The Saturday night twin: The radio silence was unexpectedly broken soon after the last post and over the next week we sent the occasional flurry of texts which eventually set up a 'lunch date' for the coming Sunday. She had been to visit her mum in Cornwall and got off her train at Plym Station on her way home. Unfortunately for me that was the only getting off that the day was to see. I met her just outside the station. It was a little awkward. I drove us to the Barbican and since it was too early for lunch I suggested we go to the aquarium. This was probably a little selfish, but I saw it and immediately thought it would be a good place to walk around, have a chat, relax, and have something to look at during times when we had nothing to say. After thinking about it for another 20-30 seconds I thought it was a genius idea, but probably shouldn’t have told her so.

It was really good and I was enjoying it. They had a huge tank of UK fish like I saw snorkeling last year, and a tropical tank with loads of fish I saw in Sumatra. I think my favourite thing was a very large (football sized) octopus that I’ve never seen close up before, but who could probably have done with a bigger tank. The twin was easy to talk to, seemed quite relaxed and we had (well, I had) a good time. It was good to have her there without the other twin knocking about as unlike at New Year it was always really easy to tell who she was and who she wasn’t.

Then we went for lunch, which I was struggling with a bit on two fronts. I was mildly hungover and exceptionally full. I had been out the night before for 6 pints of Guinness, which is dinner in itself, but also had two normal dinners (I had dinner at home then got invited out by El Capitano with whom, after a few beers, I went for a curry with). Even after skipping brekkie in the morning I still felt like I’d just eaten my own liver, and a pub lunch with a pint didn’t really have its usual appeal. The food, thankfully, was good, and I managed to eat most of it in between feeling the early onset of obesity. The talk was fine. It was nice. It wasn’t amazingly good or bad, and continued over a cup of tea at my house and a lift back to the train station. I gave her a brief hug and a kiss on the cheek goodbye. I even broke out a wave as she walked off and looked back. That was it.

I guess my main thoughts are that it was fun, but not as much fun as meeting while drunk and kissing. I was being so measured and precise in everything I said- I’m sure she was as well. Pretty much everything I said got proof read before it came out to make sure there was nothing too strange in it. This, coupled with the fact that we didn’t really know each other led to lots of candy conversation about what we both did, what family we had, what we both did and what family we had. There was no blurting out of anything that would have given some real information about who we were, or who we were pretending to be (which would have been something at least). My sober brain was busy analysing what was being said, the behaviours we were displaying, the silences, the eye contact, but I didn’t really learn anything of note. Bring back getting ruined and drunk conversations any day. My previous few relationships have all evolved out of seeing someone out a few times, having a kiss or more over a series of drunken nights, from which we have, or have not, emerged a few months later as a couple.

I agree that that probably says more about me than her, but I’m not really thrilled or giddy, or whatever else I feel I should be about the prospect of two or three months of getting to know someone. It’s really not her- I wouldn’t want two or three months of sober conversations with Jessica Alba. I'm serious*. I want an instant hit. I want results. I just want to know. Maybe the Saturday night twin and I would be good together, but it’s going to take forever to even find out at this rate.
The main problem is that she lives in a different city. This means we’re trying to get to know each other without the benefit of being able to pop out for lunch, or a beer, or ten beers. This is no small thing. If it was the summer we could go camping or something. If one of us was really keen we could see each other on weeknights. If she lived up the street, we’d know in a few days if it’s going to be worth a go. They say long distance relationships are a struggle, but at least there is a relationship; this a long distance non relationship. I don’t know if it’s worth carrying on. So dont carry on, right?

The only other fact that has some bearing on the above is a holiday. Last week Barbie emails me to see if I want to go on a camping / surfing holiday to Biarittz at the end of May. I bite his electronic hand off as this sounds totally excellent. He buys flights, books the campsite and says, quite casually the next day,

‘Oh you know the Saturday night twin is going, don’t you?’

‘What? No. What?’

‘Yeah, shes going. Oh and LEA as well’

‘What? Nooo. Really?’

So now I'm going on holiday with the Saturday night twin in May. How awkward is that?! Ive got to explain to her how this happened without me knowing. How it really happened without me knowing, and not that I made it happen, which is how it looks. Plus now I’ve got this holiday hanging over my non-relationship like a smell that I can’t quite tell is good or bad. It could be good. Great even. It could be shit. It could be one of the smells that we keep in the fume cupboard that if you smell too much you die. It depends on what happens over the next few months. And LEA will be there to witness it all going off.

Good stuff Barbie.

*Well nearly.