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Running her hands through my 'fro
2009-05-23 | 6:39 a.m.

Just looking around my living room almost makes me want to get burgled, purely for the look on the intruder's face. I like to think of it as 90s chic - we have a television and VHS combo, a megadrive, a Men Behaving Badly video boxset and a bike built in the earlier part of the 20th century. I love my house and living with Jenn.

Today marks the start of a four-day weekend. As all UK-ers will be aware, it's a bank holiday on Monday, but I also have the Tuesday off as none of the courts are open. I think it's in celebration of one of the Queen's birthdays. The Ministry of Justice have clearly never bothered to ask the Queen when either of her birthdays are because I'm pretty sure that it's not on Tuesday. Still, a day off's a day off innit.

After doing very little of substance last weekend (unless visiting Balham's 99p shop constitutes a day out, of which I am doubtful) I'm glad this one is looking rather more full. Today I'm heading up to Tori's and going to a BBQ in Leighton Buzzard, tomorrow I'm going on a date with a primary school teacher, Monday shall be my day of rest (maybe) and on Tuesday I'm going on a date with a freelance film director.

Two dates within the space of three days! I feel like I should start referring to myself as a 'player'. Or at the very least begin composing meaningful songs about how I want to take any shorties I've just met back to my hotel after spending all my G's getting them wasted on bottles of Cristal.

I think I've got a lot to learn.

The date I went on last week was quite fun. For a tax lawyer he was actually interesting and good company, but alas I didn't fancy him at all. We were at a cocktail bar, sat on a sofa and unfortunately he used the excuse of showing me the drinks menu to sidle up to me and later on in the evening he did make a few attempts to stroke my leg. I almost burst out laughing as I envisaged myself getting up and dancing an impromptu jig just to win back my personal space, but I think he got the message when I moved back as far from him as I possibly could without screaming 'GET THE FUCK OFF MY LEG YOU PERVERT,' and folding my arms and using them as a barrier.

He texted me the following day inviting me out again and I decided I could go down one of two routes - either tell him I was 'busy', the easier and less uncomfortable option but had the risk of being asked to do something the following week, or tell him outright I wasn't interested.

I went with the latter, informing him the chemistry just wasn't there for me. It went down alright thankfully.

Of the next two dates I can't work out what would be worse - liking neither of them or liking both of them.

All I know is I'm not going to wear a miniskirt again.

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