Population: Me.
And Sean, I guess. But I call dibs on Mayor. Chief Wallower. The Archbishop of Wallowing.
So here's a quick sitrep. Turns out there may be a slim chance I suck at dating. There also may well be a fairly large chance that I am completely dire at any sort of games (playing hard-to-get, making her jealous, Modern Warfare 3...). And finally, there's a massive possibility that I should never, ever, under any circumstances, be allowed to use a phone or a laptop after 3 bottles of red.
No seriously, this is ridiculous. I seem to have somehow inherited the need to ring, text and message people when I'm mangled. It's not something I've ever been renowned for, yet two nights in a row now I have been an absolute pest. Take Saturday night for example. It's 3am. I get home and the room is spinning. I make myself some pop tarts and a glass of milk and sit on the sofa. Then, for some ungodly reason, I decide to take out my phone and call someone. Not just anyone either.
First call goes to Tasha. I knew she had been out already, so I had hoped she was still in the area. No answer.
Second call goes to Emma. Despite not having spoken properly for a good few weeks, I decided she would be the solution to my problems. It's a good job Emma didn't answer, because she was the person I wanted to rant about.
Third call goes to Ella. In Boston. THANK FUCK she didn't answer. My phone bill would have not been pretty.
Fourth call goes to Sarah. She answers. Of course she does. The same Sarah I dated on and off for almost a year. I'm sure she really appreciated me spending two and a half hours ranting about women and dating. Ahh she's such a doll, that Sarah.
Anyway, I think in future, I'll be giving my phone to my housemate at midnight and telling him not to give it back until the following morning. So things with Emma are done, we can draw a line under that whole saga. And God doesn't close a door without opening a window apparently. And my window happens to be in a hostel in Thailand. Yes, TRAVELLING LUKE IS BACK!
And this time, he has his trusty sidekick Martin to spur him on and keep him on the straight and narrow. It's time to kick-start that Standing Order, jump back on the overtime train and dig out my little blue book of dreams. In February, we book our flights. And then in September, it's time to pack up and set sail to a magical world of mysterious places, dodgy hostels, very convincing Thai lady-boys and Sydney beach parties, surrounded by bikini-clad women catering to my every sordid whim.
Today, I officially take myself off the dating market. If you want me, it's purely coitus. Do not expect breakfast in the morning.
Now let's not try to get attached to anyone this time, shall we Luke?
Luke
