The New Mr Right Now

The departure of Mr DJ (off into the sunset with a better prospect - the fool! No not G's boyfriend the Fool, just referring to the foolish behaviour of Mr DJ), has left a vacancy in the role of my virtual suitor.

Enter M2. Not really a newcomer . I have been keeping him on the side, on a lukewarm engine alongside Mr DJ and one other. In short behaving like so many of the men (single or married!) in the virtual and real world behave. M2 is shaven headed (yes!), single (yes, an essential ingredient for any candidates hoping to fill the role long-term, lives in Ashford (there are some things a diva can let slide by her otherwise high standards) and is very chatty (rare for a man unless they are super keen on you or just just plain gossips).

So far the emails exchanged between us have been clean, wholesome and chasten in their content. The type of conversation you would have at the hairdressers, covering such staple dating openers as "What's your idea of a fun day?" "What do you do for a living?" and "Have you been on holiday this year and if yes where?". The fact that these gems have featured in his emails, betrays him as a being an internet virgin. A man who's used to gentle probing - perhaps?

Well in the interests of keeping myself amused and introducing him to the mad, bad, totally fickle world of online dating, this diva has decided to deflower him!...Metaphorically speaking of course!

Mediocrity Really Does Breed Discontent !

It's been one of those hit and miss days, that good columnists can never quite bring themselves to write about. As an amateur hack (I only climb the dizzy heights of columnists' when in full ranty mode or recounting sizeable pieces of girlie gossip), I am happy to exploit this level mediocrity in the hope of making some sense of an otherwise crappy day !

Deciding to leave a job is a bit like a step-by-step rehab programme. You reach rock bottom. For me that means a bad day with HWMBO ! You acknowledge your problem (apart from Haribo Blue Starmix, an obsessional love of my hair extensions ( I haven't had a bad hair day since about 1998); my rock bottom is my appallingly crap taste in men and somehow finding myself lost in a spiral of unfufilling jobs, which I invest far too much time and energy in.

Next comes the detox or the realisation that you hate your job so much,that your only option is to leave it, fast. And so you enter the recovery zone. Re-doing your cv after securing the missing ingredient which you suspect has always kept your cv in the 'maybe' pile, is strangely satisfying.

However, the prospect that in less than two months, I will be ascending the stairs of a stage in an echo strewn hall, trying my best not to trip arse over tit in ridculously high heels to pick up my degree, is both exciting and terrifying. As any diva knows whenever she finds herself clad in an undesirable cloak of indeterminate fabric, the only way she can ensure she stands out from the crowd is to sport some totally fierce heels and a big smile!

My Favourite Place

My favourite place in London is the National Portrait Gallery. Every Thursday and Friday it is open until 9pm, and on the last Thursday of each month, I go there to pay to pay homage to the beauty of its exhibits and serenity of the building that houses them.

Tonight was a special members only night, allowing cardholding members and their guests entry to the featured Gay Icons exhibition and the BP Portrait Prize.

I invited A along, who after accepting my invitation warned me that I wasn't "To wear anything cheap and flammable, natural fibres only darling!" Clearly paying me back for the polyester pants incident! (See - How Do You Mend A Broken Heart, July 2009).

I dutifully brought in an orange shift dress, black belt, houndstooth peep-toe stilettos and clutch bag to change into at the end of the day. A's response was to nip out at lunch time and pick up two shirts, 'model' them alia catwalk style in middle of the office, before deciding on the black one to compliment what I was wearing.

After stalking through the gallery for some two hours, during which time A displayed the metabolism of a a python who has missed out on a live snack, diving in every bowl of snacks dotted on the buffet tables throughout the gallery, we went to dinner.

I knew that dining with A would be hilarious and we laughed our way through two courses. We downed oysters (1 for me - which for the record I disliked, three for A who guzzled them down with the cheeky enthusiasm of a seasoned dabbler. Our mains of cod on a bed of pea mash for me, steak gratin for him. Can anyone tell me, why someone would find eating semi raw steak, topped off by a raw egg a pleasurable experience?

Walking home from the restaurant I couldn't contain myself from remarking "What a great evening it's been and here I am stuck with a beautiful gay man, instead of heading off home, to a hot man in my bed and on a promise" . A's nippy response "Well it's no picnic for me either honey" had us both in stitches! A perfect end to a fun evening.

Sad Stuff

I've always felt that Facebook was just a means of networking with your friends, family and even business contacts, but sometimes its immediacy pentrates your consciousness with the announcement of unwelcome and unexpected events that neither you or others are unprepared for.

So sorry to hear your sad news JB. My thoughts and prayers are with you and your family.

B
-x-

Happy Thursday !

Yes, you are reading correctly. I said Happy Thursday. Which means it is a red letter day. Truly awesome and almost equal to my normal Happy Friday.

First HWMBO was on great form - yes I said this was a special day. He wasn't moody at all, in fact, he was even tempered for the whole of the day and actually said thanks on more than one occasion.....I know how bloody marvellous and random was that! Sort of like winning the lottery, but without the joy of being able to buy another pair of shoes!

Next was the day itself - seamless like moi. Everything I touched went right....at one point I checked my shoes in case I was wearing Dorothy's red ones and humming "No More Drama", all at the same time ! A emailed me from his holiday destination and make me laugh so much I nearly choked on my solo latte.

At lunch instead of wasting 10 of those precious 60 minutes, queueing for a sandwich, a checkout miraculous opened up with me as the first customer and best of all ,things are going tip-top with Mr DJ. Who? I hear you scream. Come on. Sometimes, a diva has to keep some things to herself, particularly with a run of 'bad man' luck which would drive a lessor mortal to drink.

Mr DJ is single, (result!), well adjusted (this is of course all a provisional assessement and so over his ex, again this is just a provisional finding - as I know time is the real judge of these situations!) nice in a clean cut Gap way and can flirt like a trouper. He replies to emails promptly, has a GSOH, is self depreciating which as we know I adore and you've guessed it, likes me only as a friend....damnit!

Yes I have received another polite Dear diva letter, as love's arrow had hit Mr DJ and he is even now romancing someone else! Disappointed yeah, surprised not in the least, my expectations levels from the beginning of the year to now are exactly fixed at nil. If something happens great, if it doesn't I chalk it up to another one of life's little lessons. Not worth being down hearted about !