A spectacular failure.
It was my first job in London and I was pleased to be there. I was living in Woolwich and working on an IT help desk in a dead end job, and still I was pleased to be there.

I'd spent the previous six months pursuing an ex who I'd decided should forgive me for finishing with her.

She had very a different idea; namely that she should sleep with as many blokes as possible and make it very apparent why I should never have broken it off in the first place.

She made a good case and I needed to be elsewhere, so I upped sticks and took myself to the big city.

At that time, anything that happened in my life would be celebrated, commiserated or simply tolerated with a spliff.

I get some good news; yay, have a spliff. I lose my job; boo, have a spliff. I'm awake and have some weed; hmmm, how about a spliff?

I smoked a lot of spliffs.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I began my first day as a phone monkey in typical fashion, and wandered into the vast, half empty office with puffy slits where my eyes might otherwise reside.

It was a mixed team; students on their summer break, backpackers looking to get a bit of cash to finance their drinking, and some recent graduates getting their old, soiled shoes onto the first rung of the career ladder.

And then there was she. She with her coffee coloured skin & big, dark eyes. I was instantly smitten by this rare beauty and later, much, much later I was to discover that the feelings were mutual.

Unfortunately, she was a shy and demure young thing, unlikely to make obvious her feelings toward a potential suitor. Whereas I was a useless, stoned loser whose confidence was shot and who could miss a signal even if it was flashing brightly in his stupid face.

And I did. Signal after signal, hint after hint.

On my part, I made no effort to 'make a move' as it were, due to my utter lack of belief that she could find me attractive.

She clearly didn't take kindly to my knobbish disregard of her hints and gave up on me before eventually moving back to live with her Dad in a strange and distant land called Abroad (I even missed the hint she gave me then "...unless there's something worth staying in the UK for? Hmm, you fucking dopey twat, don't you get what I'm saying, knobface? No? Well, looks like you're never going to then!").

We've since discussed what might have been but what with her living in the Caribbean and me still in London (though no longer Woolwich, I'm pleased to say), the chances of anything happening disappeared long ago in a hazy puff of slightly sweet smelling smoke.

Remember kids; winners don't use drugs!
( Moey, Fri 29 Aug 2008, 13:41, 1 reply)

Now, I don't do drugs...
But I still probably wouldn't get hints. Hints don't work. It needs to be told with simple words, probably with CAPS.
( gareth_alien will be human again at, Mon 1 Sep 2008, 14:17, closed)