I purposefully left my blog a little short yesterday because I seem to be developing something that borders on inter-personal relationships in the real world, but just to clarify: that would be adoptive 'Mommy' to Hoodoo Chupacabra the soon-to-be-born Algerian Pygmy Hedgehog and not an allusion to sinister selective breeding plans.
It's been an odd few days post-Halloween, I've learnt more about myself than I though possible whilst nursing a three day long hangover and communicating with the outside world solely via text message:
I can be flirtatious without being a slapper.
Confident but not arrogant.
Intelligent and engaging sans the need to lie.
A risk taker.
Rule breaker.
An awfully nice girl.
It's amazing what you can get when you just learn to ask in a pushy and mildly condescending tone.
Until this point in my emotional development the fear of rejection was enough to silence me for an indeterminate amount of time; recently I've stepped out of that particular comfort zone (alcohol fuelled) more than once and, no, it wasn't all sunshine and kittens.
I asked. They said no.
I asked somebody else. They also refused.
I asked a third and received a 'Possibly'.
[What followed was two cigarettes, a can of Rockstar 'Punched' and twenty minutes worth of 'What the fuck does 'possibly' mean?']
I challenged their response with something in equal measure both witty and indignant. I got a date.
Nobody likes the sudden drop in their stomach, something akin to having your heart wrenched out and forcibly replaced somewhere next to your spleen, than indicates your personal inadequacy but to be afraid of psychological pain (but take that of the physical variety entirely stoically) would make me one hell of a hypocrite.
The crux of the matter is: I got my way without having to resort to the sad kitten eyes, crying on the floor/steps of a block of flats/toilets of a sleazy bar or sucking anybodies cock.
I class this as a twisted sort of triumph.
No more is my forehead stamped with 'Welcome' in a suitably cursive font, I have re-empowered myself and intend to use my new found confidence to give absolutely nobody a piece of my mind...
...You're not worth it.
Annie.
<3
It's been an odd few days post-Halloween, I've learnt more about myself than I though possible whilst nursing a three day long hangover and communicating with the outside world solely via text message:
I can be flirtatious without being a slapper.
Confident but not arrogant.
Intelligent and engaging sans the need to lie.
A risk taker.
Rule breaker.
An awfully nice girl.
It's amazing what you can get when you just learn to ask in a pushy and mildly condescending tone.
Until this point in my emotional development the fear of rejection was enough to silence me for an indeterminate amount of time; recently I've stepped out of that particular comfort zone (alcohol fuelled) more than once and, no, it wasn't all sunshine and kittens.
I asked. They said no.
I asked somebody else. They also refused.
I asked a third and received a 'Possibly'.
[What followed was two cigarettes, a can of Rockstar 'Punched' and twenty minutes worth of 'What the fuck does 'possibly' mean?']
I challenged their response with something in equal measure both witty and indignant. I got a date.
Nobody likes the sudden drop in their stomach, something akin to having your heart wrenched out and forcibly replaced somewhere next to your spleen, than indicates your personal inadequacy but to be afraid of psychological pain (but take that of the physical variety entirely stoically) would make me one hell of a hypocrite.
The crux of the matter is: I got my way without having to resort to the sad kitten eyes, crying on the floor/steps of a block of flats/toilets of a sleazy bar or sucking anybodies cock.
I class this as a twisted sort of triumph.
No more is my forehead stamped with 'Welcome' in a suitably cursive font, I have re-empowered myself and intend to use my new found confidence to give absolutely nobody a piece of my mind...
...You're not worth it.
Annie.
<3
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