Passionate proximity

The Physics geek is not my boyfriend. The Physics geek is not my boyfriend. The Physics geek is not my boyfriend. No matter how much I would like a fella to call my very own, it will not be the Physics geek because I’ve realised that the idea of kissing him makes me throw up in my mouth a little bit and want to gouge my eyes out. It’s no detriment to him because he is handsome and clever and funny (sometimes) but he is also one of my best friends and a bit like a brother to me. Plus, having lived together for what, five years (?) we are intimate with all of each others bad habits (of which there are many) and it is far too late to start overlooking those in favour of relations of a sexual nature.

It is really easy to think of him as my plus one in life because he’s always around and because he’s acted as my plus one for various functions I haven’t wanted to attend alone over the years (a particularly hideous lunch with an ex friend springs to mind) and we’re both okay with that, as long as my head doesn’t start convincing me that I am in love with him again just because he’s there. Proximity does not equal passion. Getting into a relationship with PG would be the easy way out, something that is massively appealing because it removes all the awkward ‘getting to know you’ stuff which makes me tremble with fear and contemplate a life alone with cats and crochet but the fact is the man doesn’t make my knickers tingle and I have no desire to tickle his pickle and that’s the end of it.

Have reactivated my match.com account and so now sat back waiting for the flood of offers from delightful, charming and handsome men to come flooding in. Previous performance means that I will probably once more be deluged by men with fetishes about tall women and perverts. But hey, even a sniff of a man is better that nothing. I just need to make sure I work on crushing the overwhelming feelings of ‘not being good enough’ for any potential boyshapes that come my way.

I had a wonderful chat with Marmaloid the other night, for once she called me out on being cheery and glossing over the indepth psychobabble and we got into some pretty heavy issues. We kept BT in business by talking for ninety minutes but it felt like we’d only been talking for ten as it was such fun and it’s made me even more excited about seeing her in 10 days time for our mini break to Italy where we are going to drink wine, eat olives and talk, talk talk! Roll on Rimini, especially now my passport has been safely located. In other news, yours truly made her first ever lasagne last night from scratch and I only had to call on PG’s help a couple of times (okay, more like every couple of minutes while I was making my cheese sauce). I know it’s stupid given that I’m nearly 28 but I have no natural aptitude in the kitchen whatsoever and usually resort to becoming a panicked little girl whenever I have to step into the room let alone prepare any food so I’m damn proud of my efforts. Plus it was delicious, didn’t kill me and I don’t have the runs this morning – success! Gymmed this morning and almost fell down the stairs and passed out in the shower after my workout – perhaps a not so subtle reminder that slow and steady wins the race and I am not some hardbodied mentalist triathlete headcase.

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