I was shocked at his unexpected attack. He called me weak, he called me spineless. He told me I was only one of the many many sluts who have done what I done. I must be especially transparent, because he took every insecurity I had and then he hit me over the head with them. He wrote himself in as a victim, that I was more drama than he wanted to deal with, that he didn’t want to have to listen to this shit. I protested, but, as he continued, I broke down and agreed. Because to my ears? He was right, I was useless, and weak, and a million other things I didn’t want to be. And in a moment of perfectly timed self-pity, instead of fighting back, I fell to pieces.

It was at about that moment that he stood up, decided that his work was done, and swaggered off down the road.

I stood where I was and I cried. I sobbed my little heart out, half hidden in some strangers garden. I called home a handful of times, to no answer. I felt alone, and I felt pathetic. I felt like I was all the dramatic things that I did not want to be. Like I had betrayed myself. I was humiliated.

Eventually, my brain kicked in and I called my friend Bunny, who was only half a city rather than a 12 hour timezone away, and he talked me down. I listened to what he said, and I got my shit together. Once I was able to breathe, once I’d dried my tears, I realised a few things. That all of his opinions? They were not about things that were any of his business. That he didn’t know me, nor my reasons for doing what I’d done. He wasn’t even involved in any shape, way or form.

At the time, I decided that this probably wasn’t about me at all. That maybe? Maybe I was just a convenient punching bag. An easy target for him to get out whatever he needed to. I decided that this was the case, that I wasn’t any of things he said, and then I got all high and mighty. Took it as lesson in trusting people less and opening my eyes more. I hoped that he felt better, getting it all out on me, rather than someone else who might take his words to heart. I hoped that I had helped take the edge of whatever is going on in his life, and in doing so that he would be better equipped to deal with it.

I made valiant ‘next time’ statements, that next time I wouldn’t take it without a fight. That there will be no more left hooks from an unexpected quarter. That I would not willingly be a convenient punching bag. I would not let some bastard make me cry so that he can feel better. I would not let someone paint themselves a victim with my insecurities again.

I was rocking denial like a big giant shield, getting all high and mighty, and making sweeping assumptions left right and centre.

But really? Really I’m an idiot who didn’t listen.

What I should have seen was that he was right. More than right, actually. He wasn’t tactful about it, not in the slightest, but what he was saying, at heart, was something I needed to hear. It’s just that I wasn’t listening to all the things he was saying. What he was doing was being a friend, he’d seen I was in a situation I didn’t want to be in, and that I hadn’t realised I was in it. He was saying that I’d let myself ignore the values I held, and that I was better than this. That I needed to step up, that I was worth more. That I had a choice, and I shouldn’t be doing this to myself.

It wasn’t his intention to be malicious, or make me cry. When I did he skedaddled. He took no joy from this, I don’t think. But I wanted to package it all up nice and proper and paint him as the bad guy. He isn’t the bad guy, there aren’t many people who will step in and tell you that you’re doing it wrong. There aren’t many people who will take the time, when it’s none of their business, and say you’re a friend, and you’re better than this. Okay, fair enough, I personally wouldn’t do it with insults, but I think his intentions were good.

It took a while, a week or two maybe, but eventually I caught up. Eventually I realised that he was right, and that I should do something about it. So I did, and while the world is not peachy, I’m satisfied that I can be held accountable to the things in which I believe.

Maybe a dressing down is just what I needed to take the step up. Life lessons, aye? I’ll take ‘em as they come, in whatever messed up form they may be in.

I’m pretty well known for having unexpectedly big nights out. I’m pretty sure it’s London’s fault, not mine. I don’t usually *plan* to have a big one, it just happens. Often. More than it should, probably. As a joke, my friend J attempted to make it a term. He even submitted it on urbandictionary.com

—–

Elly night: An unexpectedly big night when you’ve attempted to have a quiet one. Named after Elly of New Zealondon who can never have a quiet night, no matter how much she tries.

Example: “Dude, I totally had an Elly night last night. I was just walking home from work and didn’t make it back till 7:00am after some random person bought everyone on the street tequila shots. How do I get into these situations?! I don’t remember the rest. Are you missing a chicken? Oh man I’m hung over…”

—–

It didn’t make it through the review process (something which I’m slightly glad for!) but is a pretty accurate view of my nights out. I always start out with the best of intentions, of making the last tube home and having a fun but quiet night that won’t effect tomorrow. Needless to say that sometimes my best intentions don’t work out.

PS – Thanks, J. You make Elly nights much more fun. x

PPS – This isn’t me + J. This is me + my friend Lyle, on what turned out to be an Elly night. I started off drinking lemonade. Then there was an ice luge with skittle vodka + jager. I was powerless to stop it.

In September every year there is The Mayor’s Thames Festival. It’s a giant outdoor arts festival that basically takes over Southbank – and more – down by the River Thames. I went with Morf, and oh it was a ridiculous amount of fun. There were all sorts of things going on, dances and comedy shows, boat races. There was a silly amount of food, and cute market stalls selling all sorts of crafty goodness. There were bands, and art installations and fireworks. It was brilliant. I had a marvelous time, and will no doubt go back again next year.

Fun times indeed!

I was having a down week. A week where I wasn’t sure what I was doing with myself, where I didn’t have a direction. It seemed that everything was falling apart and I didn’t know where to turn. There was the unnecessary return to high school drama, there was illness, there was insecurity and I just couldn’t pull myself out of it. I really couldn’t. I felt a bit pathetic, really.

So, I took a moment to think up a few things that rock right now, and they made the world seem a infinitely better place.

There is the late night deep and meaningfuls w/ my 2 BFFs, even though they are both a world + a ridiculous time zone away. Realising that I can opt out any time I want. Being introduced to ceroc and loving being twirled around and around again. There was Jack, and Frank for making my afternoons sweeter. There was the friends crowding down a long table in a dark pub, glasses raised in the air to celebrate one of their own finding employment. There was the walking about London in the dark, now that the city has taken on that crisp coolness that is fall. There is the friends that include you in their plans, and buy tickets on your behalf. Friends that sit down with you and listen to your (fairly frivolous) fears, and do so intently. And then pull on their romantic hat and tell you that the universe will take care of it, so not to worry. The flat mate who I sit down to dinner with most nights, who tried to explain the intricacies of tennis scoring, and who tries to make me watch X Factor. There’s the friend who gets horribly drunk with me, and will play my wingman even though she’s not in the game. And there is China Town’s roadside Steam Buns, and Peanut Butter Gelato from the Gelato place.

There are the guys who I run with, who push me to run further, but don’t admonish me when I lack the will power to keep going. There’s the boy sends me txts about shoe shopping and job hunting and all the other random things he’s up to. There’s people who will play hacky with me so I can get better, there’s the girl who is another one of the guys and was super glad to befriend me, there’s the sandwich place who knows my name and calls my order the ‘elly sandwich’, and there’s the satisfaction of a good run-around at netball, and the delight I get at the ‘swish’ of the net when it goes in from the outside.

That’s a pretty hefty list of things that amazing, and with that in mind, the week turned around. I was glad it did, so unbelievably glad.

What do you do to put yourself in a better frame of mind?

Before I went to Croatia I spent a weekend in Basel (Switzerland) with my friend Bunny, and his Grussi. It was amazing. We flew into Basel on the Friday afternoon (which is lucky, because EasyJet, that great airline of shortcuts for budgetary reasons oversold the flight. I took the very last seat), and the interesting thing about Basel airport, is that it sits on the border and serves both France and Switzerland! When you come up to the customs desk, there are signs all over the place. This way way for France, this way for switzerland. In French, and English, and Swiss German.

It was a weekend of eating, and oh! All the things we ate! I can’t even name most of them. But there was chocolate. And there was wine. And there was hot chocolates from cute little plastic tubes, and there was afternoon naps and playing rummy cub. There was listening to children chatter away, switching easily between languages. We wandered around a super cute market (where Bunny brought a horn, appropriate for his trip to Burning Man) and we walked down a river in the gorgeously hot sun (it was brilliant, there were many interesting things, like random graffiti under bridges that have alternate versions in art galleries, and a little geckos that warm themselves on the path, but scuttle when you appear which makes the path look like a wriggling mass).

There was a fork in this river, and it’s this point that the boundary was. We stood on the Switzerland side, and on the far bank was France, and on the other bank was Germany. It was pretty mind blowing, considering that in New Zealand we’re so very isolated. It was pretty amazing. What was less amazing was losing all but handful of photos because I’m super clever. Still, I’ll remember what I do from that weekend, and I’ll remember it fondly.

Have any of you been to Switzerland before?

So, I’m back. I found that while I was away ‘taking a break’ I was still writing posts. I guess I get more out of this than I realised. There has been a bunch of adventures happen since I’ve been gone, and a whole bunch of travelling, and oh goodness, I’ve got a ridiculous amount of share.

I guess the most interesting thing about this break was that I expected to fall back in love with London. I did try, there have been exploration adventures, and drunken bar hopping, and missions into the deep urban jungle that is The South Beyond The River. I saw foxes, and I ate dinner in fancy restaurants with table top projections and had stupidly fancy cocktails with friends. I brought shiny things, and I danced like someone possessed. I did things I know I shouldn’t have done, but did them anyway (it’s called playing with fire).

I tried to love you, London. But then London, you did this thing where instead of just being grey, you got cold. And wet. And I got sick and things got unpleasant. It might just be this time of year, but I’m feeling pretty ambivalent about things.

So, I’m planning adventures. And finding other things to be excited about. Egypt for Christmas, maybe? Snowbombing in April? An underwater camera, a new wordpress design here, a company rebrand there. Coats and layers, and hot chocolates, and scarves and soup for lunch.

I’m digging deep to find things to be excited about. If soup for lunch is what does it, so be it.

So yes, that is where I am. How are you, friend?

Hey all,

There’s a private post goin up today, another Dating Files one.

If you’d like the password, either leave a comment, email me or if we’re friends on twitter, DM me.

Chur!