Gaydar. The website and mobile app that was the original gay facebook. The one where most people use to find 15 minutes of fame, but some use to actually meet people.
Give it a go...
And someone is interested.
He's 4 years younger, and I'm worried because he's arty, and writing a book, and I have 3 science degrees.
What I should of worried about was the fact that you're CRAZY!
I have no issue with mental health disorders, I do not stigmatise or label them, but this guy was an issue.
He introduced himself when we met up, followed by I'm bipolar. I thought he was being funny and breaking the ice.
Nope.
It turns out you have no social skills, you have no sense of other people, you live at home and for some reason tell my you will never move out because its easy and free to stay there with your mum doing everything for you.
For some reason, you get a second date, I think it's because it was just before Christmas.
So at the end of the second date, youre in my house, things get well interesting shall we say, and you stay over, only to have your mum going psycho in the morning.
And I realise that you have an affinity for alcohol in that you ravaged through 6 bottles of expensive wine. Then expelled them all over my garden.
Saturday, 17 May 2014
19
He asked, I said yes.
He was 19, and the date was to accompany him to his 20th birthday.
No part of this was a good idea.
he had no idea what he wanted. I was interested, he's several years younger, which was flattering. Drove a hyundai getz. Parents loved me, he told me about how he never shut up about me. Then in trying to make it happen, he freaked out and ran.
Oh and started spreading rumours that I was a pervert.
Better people have said worse of me!
just fuck off! I don't have time for your shit.
Oh and by the way, YOU ARE AUTSTICTASTIC!!!
and a total prick! who says that they are "better then everyone because they are more intelligent"?
For "more intelligent", thats a pretty dumb thing to say!
He was 19, and the date was to accompany him to his 20th birthday.
No part of this was a good idea.
he had no idea what he wanted. I was interested, he's several years younger, which was flattering. Drove a hyundai getz. Parents loved me, he told me about how he never shut up about me. Then in trying to make it happen, he freaked out and ran.
Oh and started spreading rumours that I was a pervert.
Better people have said worse of me!
just fuck off! I don't have time for your shit.
Oh and by the way, YOU ARE AUTSTICTASTIC!!!
and a total prick! who says that they are "better then everyone because they are more intelligent"?
For "more intelligent", thats a pretty dumb thing to say!
I'm ok with that
Still not sure with who I really am, whats me, what's someone else's skid marks, I'm ok with that.
I've gotten used to the idea that I'm single, and thats ok, and that I'm working it all out and it will come to me, and that's ok too.
Days become weeks that become months.
Every day is a challenge.
And as my very wise friend said, the past doesn't exist. But I'm now ok with the idea that I have an undefined future, the bubbles have burst, and let air into the vacuum.
I'm actually fine.
I've gotten used to the idea that I'm single, and thats ok, and that I'm working it all out and it will come to me, and that's ok too.
Days become weeks that become months.
Every day is a challenge.
And as my very wise friend said, the past doesn't exist. But I'm now ok with the idea that I have an undefined future, the bubbles have burst, and let air into the vacuum.
I'm actually fine.
And suddenly, I'm alone.
So one day, it hits me, the house is clean, I have multiple boxes of leftovers in my fridge, and my night is filled with cleaning the patch of floor behind the TV and the fridge.
I am tragic!
But who the hell am I anyway?
Seriously, I've been so many things for so long, I don't know who or what I am now, time to start exploring.
I like marmalade. I like saxophone music. I want an adventure.
So I go make some great friends. And eat out a lot, and then come home.
And suddenly, I'm alone.
Which is ok.
I am my own person, and being on my own or in my own company is fine.
Being lonely isn't.
I am tragic!
But who the hell am I anyway?
Seriously, I've been so many things for so long, I don't know who or what I am now, time to start exploring.
I like marmalade. I like saxophone music. I want an adventure.
So I go make some great friends. And eat out a lot, and then come home.
And suddenly, I'm alone.
Which is ok.
I am my own person, and being on my own or in my own company is fine.
Being lonely isn't.
THANK FUCK!!!
well that's over, and thank fuck!
Seriously, I couldn't do that anymore.
Now, time for single independant divatastic me!
Cher songs, and other cheesetastic power "I'm better then you, I don't need a man in my life, you were nothing to me" songs at full blast, cathartic cleaning, and HUGE amounts of free time.
Seriously, I couldn't do that anymore.
Now, time for single independant divatastic me!
Cher songs, and other cheesetastic power "I'm better then you, I don't need a man in my life, you were nothing to me" songs at full blast, cathartic cleaning, and HUGE amounts of free time.
you're a schizo-what now?!
Something else wasn't right.
Hearing voices.
I often talk to myself - planning what I'm going to say, practicing a presentation for work, or just in search of intelligent conversation sometimes!
But you're not talking to yourself, you're now telling me you're hearing 500 voices screaming at you because you made a deal with the devil and they have come for your half of the bargain.
And the shadow people are watching.
The psychiatrist is clearly out to get you when she diagnoses you as schizophrenic.
As were the next two that told you the same.
my life is a living hell, I'm now a full time carer, but rather then run, I feel obligated to stay because you're sick, this isn't you, you might get better.
You didn't get better. You said that taking pills and going to psychology appointments was too much effort, and you couldn't be bothered.
You got worse.
And controlling, and possessive, and I couldn't even have a poo without you following me to the bathroom, so I guess that when I demand one night out on my own, just one night, even just a few hours, you follow me and try to kill yourself.
here we are in the emergency department again, three strikes and you're out, sorry!
I tried, I tried really hard, I lost friends, I missed a promotion, I was nearly mentally unwell myself, because you couldn't see beyond yourself. I think it made it worse that one of your head doctors told me you'd admitted to faking parts of it just to manipulate me.
You had to go. Because somewhere there is me.
And I'm all for a bit of exhibitionism maybe, but sex with your autistic robotic boyfriend is awkward enough without 10 shadow people watching and 50 voices telling him he's crap!
To be fair to them, they had a point!
So game over, and no surprise, mummy is straight there to "rescue" her precious play thing.
Hearing voices.
I often talk to myself - planning what I'm going to say, practicing a presentation for work, or just in search of intelligent conversation sometimes!
But you're not talking to yourself, you're now telling me you're hearing 500 voices screaming at you because you made a deal with the devil and they have come for your half of the bargain.
And the shadow people are watching.
The psychiatrist is clearly out to get you when she diagnoses you as schizophrenic.
As were the next two that told you the same.
my life is a living hell, I'm now a full time carer, but rather then run, I feel obligated to stay because you're sick, this isn't you, you might get better.
You didn't get better. You said that taking pills and going to psychology appointments was too much effort, and you couldn't be bothered.
You got worse.
And controlling, and possessive, and I couldn't even have a poo without you following me to the bathroom, so I guess that when I demand one night out on my own, just one night, even just a few hours, you follow me and try to kill yourself.
here we are in the emergency department again, three strikes and you're out, sorry!
I tried, I tried really hard, I lost friends, I missed a promotion, I was nearly mentally unwell myself, because you couldn't see beyond yourself. I think it made it worse that one of your head doctors told me you'd admitted to faking parts of it just to manipulate me.
You had to go. Because somewhere there is me.
And I'm all for a bit of exhibitionism maybe, but sex with your autistic robotic boyfriend is awkward enough without 10 shadow people watching and 50 voices telling him he's crap!
To be fair to them, they had a point!
So game over, and no surprise, mummy is straight there to "rescue" her precious play thing.
Friday, 16 May 2014
Out of the frying pan and into the fire!
Thats what mu mum called the next 2 years of my life!
I now refer to it as what the hell was I thinking?!
So essentially, straight after the selfish, violent, abusive amnesia cloud lifted (got deported...), I find the new guy at work talking to me.
Nobody is talking to him. And I'm nice, so I go and have a chat.
He's quirky. and he's 20. and he's being really nice to me.
So one morning I wake up next to him with undeniable evidence of having done unspeakable things to him.
It went from there.
Much to the dismay of one of the three people involved in being my support crew, who's words of wisdom were "don't eat where you shit" (workplace dating with a junior colleague is probably not a good idea Adam, and you're technically his manager, do you really want the conflict of interest scenario that will happen no matter how hard you try?), it happened!
Something wasn't right. He was clingy, and needy, and had no social skills. Ahhh, that would be the Aspurgers you forgot to mention at any point, which would be fine if you were managing it well, but when you had to go so psychotherapy as a child, your mother let you stop going because you said you were normal and all the doctors had got it wrong. So back into her womb you crawled to live as mummy's special little boy forever.
Immortally infantalised.
Almost institutionalised really, lack of life and social skills because you have never needed either.
You have no views or opinions other then those you parrot recite from your bigoted bully of a father.
To be honest, you existed in my life through convenience. At a time when I realised that for a long time, someone had been very not nice to me, you were nice to me.
Conveenience became not the word of choice.
Yes, we ended up living together for the last 18 months of bad to worse!
I now refer to it as what the hell was I thinking?!
So essentially, straight after the selfish, violent, abusive amnesia cloud lifted (got deported...), I find the new guy at work talking to me.
Nobody is talking to him. And I'm nice, so I go and have a chat.
He's quirky. and he's 20. and he's being really nice to me.
So one morning I wake up next to him with undeniable evidence of having done unspeakable things to him.
It went from there.
Much to the dismay of one of the three people involved in being my support crew, who's words of wisdom were "don't eat where you shit" (workplace dating with a junior colleague is probably not a good idea Adam, and you're technically his manager, do you really want the conflict of interest scenario that will happen no matter how hard you try?), it happened!
Something wasn't right. He was clingy, and needy, and had no social skills. Ahhh, that would be the Aspurgers you forgot to mention at any point, which would be fine if you were managing it well, but when you had to go so psychotherapy as a child, your mother let you stop going because you said you were normal and all the doctors had got it wrong. So back into her womb you crawled to live as mummy's special little boy forever.
Immortally infantalised.
Almost institutionalised really, lack of life and social skills because you have never needed either.
You have no views or opinions other then those you parrot recite from your bigoted bully of a father.
To be honest, you existed in my life through convenience. At a time when I realised that for a long time, someone had been very not nice to me, you were nice to me.
Conveenience became not the word of choice.
Yes, we ended up living together for the last 18 months of bad to worse!
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