back on track

Sooo, what's been going on since last time... let's see... this might be a good time to do a status check.

Men:
Still seeing Spikey and he's absolutely lovely - still taking it slowly and seeing where things go.
I never mentioned the others:
Well, there was Roller-boy... for about five and a half years. Still a good friend, which wasn't popular with Lunalatina, who he had to split up with in order to avoid getting married in a year's time. Well done, Roller boy :)
Then there was that new-years eve thing. Nothing to say about that but WORST SEX I HAVE EVER HAD IN MY WHOLE LIFE. And that's counting the drunken fumbling first few times. Well done, Aussie boy, you've shamed your country.
Actually, Disco-boy came before him, but as I told him I didn't want to see him again after a perfectly good date at the Tate, he doesn't really count 'till later. Why did I say that to him? See, according to my calculations, that should have made him well keen... guess I just forgot that he's not a woman! Shortly after new-year technology took matters into its own hands and dialled his number, which resulted in half a handful of visits to a posh part of town and ended in, well... me basically being told to go fuck myself... albeit a bit more politely, bless him and his excellent upbringing. Oh well, he's hot, but my god, don't he just know it!
Then there was Steadman. Met him at a cultural dinner. Sounds posh but wasn't. He was cute. I probably exchanged our numbers, typically I don't remember doing it, but magically this phonenumber appeared in my phonebook, and a few days later it called. So we went out. As I said to my friend Tootsie, he's nice looking and we had pleasant conversation. She said "sounds boring". We said "call Disco-Boy". I say "mistake". See this is where I pulled my biggest Bridget-stunt to this date. After having left a message on D-boy's answer phone (mistake number one), we leave the pub, head down the tube. Phone rings, it's him, I answer (mistake number two), start running up the escalator (mistake number three), shout "guess what I'm doing, I'm running up the escalator" laughing hysterically (mistake four through to one hundred), admit not being able to making it up (mistake 101), promise to call later. Call after I arrive at my stop, get invited to "come on and get some of that good sex" (honestly! it was just ok). I politely decline, and this is where he politely suggests I go home and fuck myself. Instead I have a Big Daddy Burger (mistake 102). Hmm... wonder if I'll hear from this guy again. No matter. There's Spikey. Yes yes oh yeah!

Work:
Crazy.

Social life:
Picking up, after a period of particularly heavy workload.

Domestic life:
The dishes are done and the laundry is hanging. Domestic bliss.