Resting in Pieces

I have lately been enjoying the calm that is reigning in my head. The fact that the second date with Blondy was so completely pointless has made my mind up that for the moment this Newbie will be remaining away from romantic encounters for a little while anyway. Romantic encouters may not include drunken flirting in pubs occasionally but dates, meetings up and snoggings and anything that may stem from the aforementioned is off the menu for a bit. I am enjoying having my thoughts all to myself for a while. My brain is boy free and it's bloody lovely.

This date then - the short version of what happened is that Blondy got sappy and started talking about friends weddings he'd been to whilst staring deep into my eyes and hammering home the point that that's what he'd want to get married one day. I managed to keep a lid on my reaction to this display for precisely two glasses of wine, then got drunk and obnoxious.

The night didn't end well - I started talking about the book I'd read recently(I like books. A lot. I can talk about them with feeling for some time.) and asked him if he was reading anything at the moment. He said he was reading Angels and Demons by Dan Brown. Which is fine. Or it would have been if I wasn't a bloody snob. I asked how he was finding it. He answered, "Well... it's a bit... far-fetched..." "REALLY???!!??" I asked in mock shock. I explained I'd just finished Midnight's Children by Salman Rushdie which I'd found quite hard work but ultimately rewarding, to which he replied, "Who's he?"

He went back to the subject of marriage after this scintillating conversation at which point I'd had enough really - I explained shortly that I had doubts about whether I wanted to ever get married and that finding someone to be my other half wasn't something that I was interested in. He asked if I'd ever given my heart away. I said yes, but as I got older I was seeing the sense in self preservation rather than flinging myself after people. He called me cynical and told me for the thirtieth time that he was a romantic. I agreed that I was cynical and said that "romantic" wasn't a personality trait.

By the end of the evening I really REALLY didn't think he'd still move in for the kill but ever the "romantic" (if romantic means someone who can't take a bloody hint...) in he went. It wasn't good. He got offended that I moved away without letting him give me a proper snog but still followed me onto the tube, even though he could have left me alone and gone to get a bus. I informed him in no uncertain terms that he was not coming home with me and he stared into my eyes and said seriously that it was ok, he knew that I wasn't that easy. I started quoting Jeanette Winterson at him linking love with death and finally he got the message. He started sniggering; when I asked him what he was laughing at he said that some things were better left unsaid. If I had been even one tiny bit more pissed I would have said a few things to him that were better left unsaid. I ignored him for two stops and when he leaned in for another kiss (hello??) I presented my cheek. He got off the tube and before he was even out the door I had my book out.

He hasn't called. Why o why???

I behaved very badly but can't get rid of the sneaking suspicion that he deserved it a bit. Anyway, lesson learned - no more dates with clean cut, nice boy swimmers. Apparently they want to get married, which I do not react well to. Apparently.

In happier news, there seems to be some new talent in a couple of the backstage crews at work. It's lovely to have some eye candy, but no dates for the moment. Even one more like that in the near future might put me off for life.

So what has been wafting around my lovely empty head?? I hear you cry (humour me, I am a div.)! Well I am slowly getting used to having ideas about things and actually holding onto them long enough to write down the bare bones of them. So far I had a cool dream about a house with a clock tower in a wood which I woke up and wrote the story of why the house had a clock tower straight after. The dream I had featured a young girl sheltering an army deserter but I haven't really touched that bit yet - it's still washing around my head and I thought I'd let it sit there for a bit. I keep having dreams about being thrown into a situation where I have to go on stage and perform with almost no time to prepare - three so far and have scribbled down two of them.

Then the other day I had this eureka moment based around ideas nicked from three different places - the possibility that there are a number of parallel universes which are only accessible through dreams and a girl with an incredibly boring real life begins to realise this and can choose which universe to follow in her sleep. Though I'm not sure how it would unfold or what to do with it yet. It could be written in alternate scenes - real life, all grey and mundane followed by dream universe all madly coloured and exciting. It does feel a bit like it's been done, but again I'm letting it stew.

I got an email from Mr B the other day who I've not heard from or even thought about much since our Chat. He asked if I'd be willing to start working with him in a writing capacity soon, over email as I'd said that I thought I'd work better with someone else helping to develop and breathe life into this stuff and he was really really keen to work with me - he was very keen on my short piece that I did before for the Theatre and said that he loved writing but always got stuck on having the actual ideas.

The thing is, I'm not sure if I want him back in my head or my life yet. It's only been about three weeks and I told him to give me a couple of months (three actually) to sort my head out. But if it's only over email and I don't have to see him then maybe that would be ok. I'm having a think about it and haven't replied to him yet... I'm a bit hormonal at the moment so thought it would be wise to leave it alone until I'm assured of my sanity (such as it is).

Any thoughts on any of this stuff would be lovely!