This is the week that was

It's been a funny old week.

I guess I will start at the beginning, the only logical place to, I suppose. On Tuesday I went back to work. Like a complete spakker I took the wrong train and ended up at Blackfriars. Pretty stupid. On Tuesday evening I started feeling really depressed. No one I called picked up. In the end I rang one of my exes, who asked me what it was like sleeping with his friend. I told him that I found even the concept of him asking was incredibly weird. We discussed whether shagging numerous people made you a slag. I told him that after I’d had sex with A, I’d lain awake thinking that I was a slag. He said that he didn’t think that was a bad thing, and that sometimes he was kept awake by that too, but more down to furiously masturbating over his immense sexual prowess than feeling in any way regretful.

By Wednesday the black cloud I had sensed had really settled on me. I couldn’t do anything, I just stayed in bed and tried to sleep. I didn’t even let my housemates know that I was in, so that no one would talk to me. It seemed like no one wanted to talk to me anyway. All the people I tried ringing didn’t answer the phone. It’s funny, when I’m at my lowest I find out who are really good friends. Depression, with me at least, is not something that’s going to go anywhere any time soon, so I just need to deal with it. And I do deal with it pretty well, most of the time. I guess after ten years you do get quite acclimatised. Nowadays, I’m normally fine (though stuffed full of anti-depressants), but I have bad episodes, where I am almost incapable of doing anything.

The next day, I finally emerged from my room, but only to go as far as the living room. The Wolf called, and I told him about how I was feeling. He’s had depression too- well, still has it. His advice was to go outside and get some fresh air, and if possible go tot Camden and look at the tramps, and think “well, at least I’m not a fuck-up like that”, which I thought was very wise, but also completely typical of the Wolf. He had remembered sleazing at my friend, and his way of dealing with her rejection of him was to cal her vacuous. I asked him why he would say that about someone that he quite clearly likes, and he said it was an automatic reaction- you wolf whistle at a girl, she tells you to fuck off, so you shout “you’re ugly anyway”. I love the twisted, simple logic of men.

I hadn’t heard from S- my New Year conquest. I’d even called and left a voicemail message. When I was feeling really low, sometime on Wednesday, I wrote up a list of all the men who I’ve kissed and they’ve said they’ll call and I’ve never heard from again. It was quite depressing. Anyway, I decided to make an effort and go out, and went round to the Legend's house. S was there. I asked him why he hadn’t returned my text message or my call, and he said he wasn’t ignoring me and that he was just crap. Hmm. In the pub (i.e., after I’d got a drink in me) I asked him whether he did want to hang out sometime, and he said that he did, but he didn’t want a relationship or anything. Like I was asking for commitment or a relationship or anything. I may love the male crazy logic, but I really don’t understand it at all. Straight away I texted my friend with the news, and she was very sweet about it. I told the Wolf, and he suggested I go for Cousin Will instead. Cousin Will was once described by Wolf as “a boring fucker”, though at the time he didn’t know that Cousin Will was standing just behind him. So I am probably not going to be throwing myself in Cousin Will’s direction anytime soon. We all got really pissed. S had to go home because he was so pissed. Legend got really moody. Afterwards, I was going to go home but Legend had left his wallet in the pub so I walked over to there to give it back. Another friend from halls was also there with his very dull girlfriend, and some upper-class toff who was doing everyone’s head in. Legend's girlfriend and I ended up staying up late drinking beer and taking the piss out of this guy, who would not go home, despite our none-too-subtle hints. In the end he went, but he forgot his scarf, so we’ve kept it. It’s a nice cashmere scarf, which’ll be good as present for a dad or uncle or the such like. I decided that going home was too much of a challenge and I slept on the sofa, still with my jeans on.

In the morning I was woken by Legend having an absurdly loud shower. I had to get back as I had to collect some furniture. My new housemate made quite a fuss about giving me a lift, but did in the end. When I was there, I saw the short Irish guy I slept with a few weeks ago, which was a tiny bit awkward, not least because I still have his Madonna CD.

I went to Borough to my friends leaving do, where I was introduced to the girlfriend of the Scottish guy I kissed at the Christmas party. I don’t think she knows. If she does, she was being remarkably nice about it. I drank lots of wine, and announced that I was gay to about twenty people. Which was quite ominous of me, but I’ll come to that later. I started feeling quite depressed again and decided to leave.

The most exciting part of my week was when I went to Afterskool, an indie night, with my friend S (not new year boy S. Using initials is a pain in the arse sometimes). She's so beautiful in such a cool without even trying kind of way, and really smart too. A girl spent an inordinately long amount of time telling me how beautiful I was, which was quite flattering. S and I proceeded to get stupidly drunk. Two of my friends were working at the bar so we had to pay nominal prices- £1 for two double vodka and cokes. One of them I slept with a few months ago, but hadn’t seen him in ages. We also saw S’s ex and I was quite cutting to him. It’s only what he deserves. S and I ended up on the stage, and we kissed. It wasn’t really just kissing; we were all over each other. She pinned me against the wall. I just wanted to touch her (which I did) and kiss her (ditto). Now all I can think about is sleeping with her. That’s pretty bad on two counts: 1) you shouldn’t sleep with your friends. 2) Thinking about having sex with someone else during the act is always wrong, but if you’re shagging a man and thinking about a woman, that’s just insane.

As is fairly obvious from the above, I got laid, but by a man, not a woman. At the end of the night, I’d lost S and presumed she’d gone home. My two friends who’d been working invited me back to theirs, and had a car, so my decision was quite forced. And of course I ended up shagging that guy again. I was so pissed, I said some really embarrassing things. One of the worst was “I really like your cock, it’s just the right size and shape”. Worst thing is, he was sober, so he will remember all of this. I was marginally less pissed than when I slept with him before. I can’t really remember too much of the last time, I’m ashamed to say. But this time it was good, and I can actually remember it, so I’m not making that up. We had sex a couple of times, watched Family Guy and then went to sleep. He’s really nice to sleep next to and he cuddles properly, and stroked my hair and kissed me on the forehead. I may be a complete slut but I do like a bit of romance like that. When I eventually woke up, I stood on a used condom getting out of bed, which was quite funny, and made me feel a little like Tracey Emin.

To finish off the weekend, I cut my friends hair and hung around at his house. I decided that I would walk back to Brixton from New Cross (where he lives). It was probably a bit of a stupid plan, bearing in mind that I didn’t have a map. It was quite nice walking, I had my mp3 player, and although it was raining and cold, I had my big winter coat on, so I didn’t really mind. When I got home and checked my map, I realised that I hadn’t gone the quickest way at all, and that there was actually no need for me to have walked through Peckham at all. Things you learn, I suppose.

Still, the walk gave me chance to reflect on everything. I don’t feel as depressed as I did earlier in the week. I don’t care what it is that’s made me less depressed- yet more random sex, lots of booze, kissing pretty girls- as long as I feel better. I have given up having a conscience. Quite selfishly, I am following a strategy of personal gratification. I figure that I am the only person I can realistically rely on to always think of me, so that’s what I shall do. Part of that plan involves getting some new batteries for my vibrator.

Right. Off to bed…