Total. Utter. Rejection.

Now, I am not a man who's above a bit of good old-fashioned rejection, and believe me when I say I have had more than my fair share in the past. Whether it was someone I cared deeply for telling me that it just wasn't working out or receiving a call from an ex-partner as he lay in the arms of another man. I've even shared a bed with a guy who subsequently refused to sleep with me because of my hairy chest. He was upfront with it - no holding back - he put it right out there and said he hadn't realised I had one. Apologies for not pointing it out  to you whilst you begged me to come home with me. Anyhow, I digress.

I recently went on a date with a good-looking, 6 foot 4 hunk of a man who was both sweet and funny and who - despite the date being seemingly doomed from the start - said he enjoyed it muchly and couldn't wait to see me again. Even though it was pouring with rain, he got stuck in football traffic, got lost on the way from Colchester and turned up late, it actually went surprisingly well and ended in a little kiss. Things continued to progress well until a week later a broken down car put a halt to our weekend plans. Not that this prevented him going to see fireworks in Southend or enjoying a night-out in Chelmsford with friends  but I (generously) overlooked that. A week later again and with the car fixed, I brought up the subject of seeing each other again and "fixing the car had cost a lot of money" and he wanted to be able to "treat me." Sweet enough I guess, but I'm not one to be strung along and when, another week had passe, I finally put it out there. Are we going to meet or not? Did you actually enjoy yourself ? And if you don't want to and you didn't why have you been texting me non-stop for the last 2 weeks? This was met with a hole host of excuses; I've got a few issues going on, you're a lovely guy and I want to see you again but just for a "bit of company, nothing more." Ok, but what did you think I was after, marriage...?! Needless to say he was soon told where he stood, told to man-up and his number was duly deleted. Rejection #1 of the weekend. Nothing too exciting, just your bog-standard rejection to be honest. But honestly, do I look like some idiot who is gonna a man take me for a ride? I have this thing called a brain and I can work out how well things are going on my own thank you very much,

In the mean time, I had stumbled across a guy who I had been generally chatting to since the end of last week, and we continued to speak over the weekend. We seemed to get on and so he asked me (note here, who asked who) whether I fancied a spot of lunch and shopping next weekend. Sure, I said, that would be nice. After all, I had just been rejected and I'm only human. We continued to talk and at one point he asked me briefly whether I knew a particularly guy. I explained that no I didn't know this guy but oddly enough he had commented on a Facebook picture of mine earlier in the day and that, having no idea who he actually was or how he found himself to be on my friend list, I'd deleted him. "Oh, well he just poked me on Facebook, he must have seen me comment on your status and done it." Nothing more was said on the subject, and having had a hectic week prior to the weekend,  I spent my evening enjoying a thoroughly-deserved rest.

When I woke up this morning I sent a message to this guy, briefly apologising that I hadn't replied to his last text as I had been tired and had been chilling with music and television. He replied that he was tired too, but because he had got talking to the Random Poke guy and this had gone on until 2am in the morning. It turns out he's a lovely bloke...well isn't that cosy? I honestly don't remember what I replied exactly, but was more than a little surprised that he had divulged the information he did. When he replied, it was to explain how well he had got on with the guy, they had talked for 8 hours non-stop and that he was half Irish {input love symbol here}. Well, I suggested, why don't you rearrange our spot of lunch with this guy instead, as you got on so well? Cue his reply: "Oh I don't know, I never get this much attention." ARE YOU SERIOUS? Honestly, I spent a good few minutes working out whether the guy was for real or not. When I concluded he was then I typed "Okay, let me put it this way, I REALLY think you should re-arrange it with him instead." "Oh really, do you think? Would you mind?" WHAT?! MIND? Oh no, just replace me with someone else. "Well you definitely won't be meeting me any more, so you might as well." "Awww, well we could do it another time?" "Erm......let me think about this, no." TOTAL. UTTER. REJECTION. Rejection #2 of the weekend was delivered with as much tact as telling an employee they are being fired by text message. I really didn't, and still don't know, quite how to feel about the situation; whether to laugh my socks off or sob hysterically. 

Now, I'm not particularly confident about my looks on the best of days, but the whole situation is made marginally worse by the fact that Random Poke guy is not of the attractive variety - a fact concurred with by a number of sources during the course of today. In fact he looks like he may even have some sort of disability. And out of the two of us, even I - with what little confidence I do have - would have thought I was the better choice. Well now I know better than to ever be so stupid again. Not for the first time in life I come to the conclusion that I am destined to be remain single forever. Now I just need to wear a nightie and fill my house with cats.

Crazy Sunday times

You gotta love the 'rents sometimes... every Sunday is the same. My mum works all day on a Sunday and so the weekly dilemma in my Dad's life about when to have the roast dinner ready for, commences. He likes to do it just in time for when Ma walks in from a long days working - normally this is in the 2 hour period between 6 and 8, but we're never quite sure when it will be. It certainly add's just that little bit of extra excitement to what is inevitably a super-thrilling Sunday.

This week, the dilemma proved so much that my father felt the need to go for a pint at the pub (note singular) and stumbled in after a few pints (note plural) telling me the same joke twice and laughing hysterically about how drunk I had been the previous night and how next time I should invite him. Hmmm, yeah right. Then again, maybe it was just one pint. You see, it doesn't take my Dad much to get drunkard - one sip of beer normally has his cheeks a'glowing and his words a'stumbling.

Once my mother does walk in (earlier than usual) the roast isn't ready and she's complaining it's too late to be eating a big dinner. By the time it is ready, neither of us are hungry and we  force down what  we can. My mother decides to give a running commentary whilst eating; describing the taste and texture of each item on her plate, clarifying whether she likes it or not and repeating several times about how nice the gravy is. "Yes mother, I am eating the exact same dinner as yourself so I am quite aware thank you very much!" With this, we both get the giggles (which didn't help with the forcing down the food). We sneakily decide to limit the damage with father about the lack of food eaten by exchanging items of food one of us didn't fancy. When Dad  see's the plates he goes into a rant, like he does every Sunday, about how he is never going to cook a roast dinner ever again and all the time/effort he wasted blah blah blah. Until next week papa!

Dad is still drunk at this stage, which you can tell by the fact all the lights in the house are on and he has the telly blaring in the kitchen - if sober, this would not be the case - a lifetime of lectures/rants about the very subject are testamount to this. Worryingly, I found myself increasingly angered by the loud telly and the house being "lit up like a Christmas tree" and so I must regrettably conclude that I am slowly morphing into my old man. Not a good thing.

Mother is currently catching up on Strictly and Merlin that she missed the night before; clapping, jeering and cheering at her laptop as she watches them 'on demand.' She's quite new to this on demand malarky but is slowly getting the hang of it. The beer and food finally caught up with Dad and he's already in bed, and whilst he dozes I sit here pondering on how crazy (and incredibly entertaining) my parents really are. And I wouldn't live without either of them.