Monday 26 October 2015

My Fair Lady

So, online dating is weird.

Also exciting. And nervewracking. But mainly weird.

I'd set up my profile pretty quickly - I wasn't sure what was normally expected from this kind of thing, so I just ended up waffling a couple of paragraphs out in a friendly and chatty style. I'd barely finished when the first email popped up - already?! This was amazing! Heart thumping, I'd clicked on the icon to find the following masterpiece of the English language;

Hey. Hw's u?

Not exactly inspiring... but firmly deciding not to judge a book by its cover (or in this case, a guy by his opener), I emailed back.

By the time I had, I already had three more emails waiting for me, all similar variants of the first. Each got a chatty, open email back inviting further conversation, each taken from a quick read of their profiles. 

An hour passed in an instant, the newness and excitement of apparently being so popular making the time disappear. After an hour I had also become a tad bit more cynical... And learned that I was a language snob. After emailing First Guy a few times, I had to admit that his bad spelling was putting me off enough to never want to meet him. The same went for the next few - it wasn't just the misuse of 'ur', 'bby' or any other horrible abbreviation, but they just didn't seem to be able to hold up an interesting, articulate conversation. The best of them were just boring - the worst gave up on even the pretense of getting to know me and quickly just moved to asking for boob pictures. Those got instantly deleted, along with the apparent 90 yr old who just wanted to tell me how long his member was.

I know how much of a snob I sound like. It wasn't anything to do with education or thinking myself 'better' than anyone - I had enough of a complex about that from my grandparents.

It was just that I love language. I love reading and always have done from a very young age. From that, I've learned to love a unique turn of phrase, incorporating unusual and fascinating words into daily conversation, bringing this complex, beautiful, growing mess of the English language to life. To me, language isn't merely a way to communicate - it should be celebrated! I wanted these guys to put effort into their replies, to look at my profile and actually respond to it, to have wandering and twisting conversations leading on from those open doors - essentially, I wanted to be seduced by words. Good looks were nice enough, but if you didn't know 'your' from 'you're', then you might as well have been the grandad with the 10 inch schlong.

I spent another half hour browsing through what Edinburgh had to offer, putting a few filters in - no smokers, no kids and no one over 35. The first two were deal breakers - the last one wasn't solid, but getting too close to my dad's age made me just a tad uncomfortable. I picked out a few that intrigued me and sent off brief openers, hoping that they'd get back to me.

My phone buzzing interrupted me, and when I saw it was the president of the uni football team, my heart jumped. I knew the team was meant to be playing a cup game in Dundee today, and that the bus was meant to leave in 90 minutes - maybe they needed me? Maybe I'd actually get to play?!

No such luck.

"Hey, Jane, we may have a problem..."

Oh good. My favourite words. Didn't I love that I was hearing so much of them at the moment?

"So, the bus is meant to leave at 12. However, Dundee have just phoned Ryan up saying that the pitch is still slightly frozen. They've essentially said that they think it will be good for the match, but there is a chance that we turn up to find it called off."

I instantly understood why she had phoned me, the treasurer.

"Ah - the bus money. We can't afford an extra bus for a replay this season."

Money had been a nightmare for the club this season. I was only meant to be the treasurer, with two supporting fundraisers, but both girls had flaked out of their responsibilities. I had spent too much time before Christmas frantically trying to arrange fundraisers which barely a third of the team turned up to. I recrunched the numbers every week hoping to come up with new ideas, but as we stood we would end the season with 15 quid in the bank. It gave us absolutely no error room for unexpected costs.

It's an awful situation to be in when you're actually hoping for your team to lose cup games so that you don't have to pull an extra £300 out of a hat that doesn't exist.

I heard her sigh down the phone. "Yes, exactly. I wanted to check what the situation was if we have to replay - do we have to cover the costs? Will it be up to Dundee to pay for the replay bus or can the union cover it?"

I closed my eyes, wincing. "I'm afraid not - because they've given us warning, they won't be liable if they cancel the game when we turn up. And because it's not the later stages of the competition, we won't get any help from the sports union offices. I hate to say this so late, but we have to cancel it. We can't afford to replay this match. I know it's a pain for the players, but unless anyone can come up with an extra £300, we just can't. And in order not to be charged for today's bus, I need to cancel it now. Can you speak to Ryan and let him know?"

"Yeah, sure, I'll phone him back just now."

Rubbing my temples, I decided I needed food before hunting out the bus number to cancel. I was just wandering back through with a pile of tuna sandwiches when I noticed my phone madly buzzing again. I dumped the sandwiches on the table and grabbed it, barely looking at the name.

"Sorry, sorry, hello?"

"Jane, it's Ryan here. We can't cancel the game today."

"Wait, what? Ryan, have they explained the money situation to you-"

"Yeah, but it's only a couple of hundred quid - what matters is that the girls are up for this game today, they're in a fantastic place from the last few training sessions and we have to play. They said there was a good chance the pitch would defrost, so we're going for it."

"But we can't afford it! We don't have the money for a replay bus!"

"I'm sorry Jane, but I have to overrule you here - we're playing this game."

The sharp beep let me know that he'd hung up on me. I sat there in shock staring at the phone. Overruled me? What gave him the right? He was the coach, not one of the running committee! He got paid to turn up once a week, whilst we all did this voluntarily in our own time. He wasn't the one staring at the numbers which didn't add up for hours!

Panicking, I phoned our president back. She was in less of a state than me, but essentially had had the same conversation - Ryan was playing this game. She did manage to calm me down by emphasizing that Dundee were pretty confident that the pitch would be OK for the game - I just had to somehow convince my churning stomach of that too.

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

I couldn't focus for the next few hours, waiting to find out whether we were screwed for the rest of the season. My pile of tuna sandwiches lay forgotten on the table - my stomach was so tense, I couldn't face the thought of food. The kick off time slowly approached and passed; my pacing grew ever more frantic. The budget spreadsheet lay open on my laptop, but no matter how I looked at it, we couldn't cut any more costs further than I already had. Eventually, my phone rang, and I grabbed it.

"Ryan, hi, is the game on?"

There was a heavy silence.

"No. The pitch was frozen."

Anger flared up as I glared sightlessly at my bedroom wall. I breathed out slowly, then hardened my resolve.

"Ryan. Due to your decision, if the club doesn't make an extra £300 in the next few weeks, the club is bankrupt. We will not be able to pay your fees at the end of the season."

I heard him move to interrupt. "No, Ryan, I'm not finished. I understand why you felt we had to pay this game, but with all due respect, you are not on the running committee. You do not get to make these decisions, as you don't know what we go through to keep this club off the ground and working."

"Jane, look, I'm sorry. Surely we can get the money together somehow?"

I barked a short laugh, then caught myself. Keep it professional, but unmoving. "Ryan, we've been trying to fundraise all season, but the players aren't supporting the fundraisers I pull together. You know this - you've been here all season. However, this changes now. You put us into this mess - I expect you to be the one to lead us out of it. I can set up another fundraiser, but you are going to be there, and you are going to be the one to get the whole team behind it."

I half expected argument, but to his credit, Ryan quietly agreed. I quickly phoned our president to update her on the situation, then leaned back on my bed, shaking slightly. I hated conflict, and that was something I'd have never done if I hadn't been so furious.

Weirdly, though, I was proud of myself. I'd stood up for the right thing, and because of it, the club might actually be OK.

As a reward, I let myself have one last glance through the new match.com emails before turning back to work. One in particular caught my eye - one of the guys I'd emailed had responded already!

Greetings, my fair lady. I have to admit, I am greatly intrigued by your profile - it is so refreshing to find someone who tries to capture who they are instead of the usual 'travel, food, love nights in and out' nonsense. After all, doesn't everyone love nights both in and out under the correct circumstances? They may as well put 'I am a functioning human being!' - but that wouldn't be nearly as fascinating, would it?

I'm afraid I have lost myself rambling, but the essence of it all is that it is lovely to hear from you. I would be very interested to continue our conversation, if that pleases you? To start with, I see that you are a steadfast fan of Doctor Who - who is your favourite Doctor of the new seasons? I have to admit that Eccleston is mine, but Tennant had his flashes of genius as well. Which are your favourite monsters?

And again I ramble! I shall end this here, and wait attentively for your response. Good day, fair lady.

I couldn't help it - I knew it was cheesy, overly flowery and aimed to flatter. Chances were he'd sent countless other ladies similar emails.

Yet, I was utterly charmed. 


Tuesday 20 October 2015

I've Got A Terrible Feeling Everything's Coming My Way...

~ Author's Note:

I'm sorry for being away so long! I have no decent excuses - blogging takes up a lot of time, and as soon as you fall out of a writing pattern it becomes very difficult to pick it up again. However, I still very much want to tell this story, so I'll be hopefully back to posting once a week - maaaybe increasing to twice if I can write fast enough. I'm also changing to an offshore rotation for the next year, so hopefully that means lots of writing time in the evenings stuck in the middle of the sea! For the moment anyway - enjoy the latest post... ~

I forced myself to keep smiling, even as it felt like my heart was about to burst out of my chest with panic. All the guilt that I thought I was over rushed back, threatening to overwhelm me as I stared into the face of the last person I wanted to meet.

However, even as most of my brain remained paralysed, a small part was dispassionately taking notes from the back. Frankie was... well, plain. And apparently shy, and quiet, as I managed to exchange the basic pleasantries. All in all, from my first impressions, she was not at all who I expected Bob to be with. He was so charismatic, and loud, and full of life - and she was... mousy.

It just made it worse. I had imagined a gorgeous, vibrant, sassy rugby player who had charmed Bob from the pitch as he coached their team. That, I could have dealt with. With that, I could have understood his devotion to her, his determination to make long-distance work. That, I could have used to finally, finally get over him.

But this? He'd chosen to stay with this over me?

A wave of horror ran through me, breaking me out of my thoughts. Who did I think I was, judging this poor girl on thirty seconds of conversation? What right did that give me to think I was any better than her? I knew nothing of their four year relationship, of what they'd been through together, of what experiences and laughter and love kept them together.

At least she had an honest claim to him.

Feeling sick to my stomach, I sat back down and buried myself in work, trying to pull together hydrocyclone calculations for the group project. A while later, I glanced up and Ray caught my eye. As he gave me a sympathetic smile I felt my self-control begin to crumble, pathetic under even the slightest ounce of pity. Shaking my head at him desperately, he picked up the hint and quickly engaged me in an explanation of his working for our economics essay, giving me time to pull myself together. I gradually started asking questions, engaging more in the discussion, until I felt calm again - or at least as calm as I could be when this tired, hungover and stressed.

A buzzing from my phone distracted me. Picking it up, I saw a message from Peter:

Did you know Alyssa has a boyfriend?!

I perked up immediately. Had she finally opened up about the mysterious engineer she'd been dating? Did we have a name?!

Don't tell me it's engineer dude! Are they official? Since when?

Engineer dude? Wait, how did you know about him? No one tells me anything!

I frowned at my phone.

'Nothing' - yet you still know about the relationship before I do? Spill your secrets and I'll spill mine!

I was completely engrossed in dissecting every tidbit of gossip between myself and Peter that I didn't hear Ethan yelling my name until he was right behind me,

"Jane, seriously! We have important issues here!"

I spun around quickly. "I'm so sorry, had family gossip to deal with - what can I help with? Is it the project - how are you getting on with the crystallisation research?"

He looked at me weirdly. "Uh, no. I'm having a Sporcle quiz break. Far more importantly - which musical does 'Oh What A Beautiful Morning' come from?"

"Oklahoma!" I smiled, then realised a second voice had chimed in with me. Looking over, I saw Frankie had answered too.

"Oh, you know it?" She smiled shyly over at me.

"Um, yes, I saw a student show version of it recently... it was awful though, definitely not one of the better classic musicals."

"Oh, really? It's my favourite!"

"Ah, sorry, I didn't mean - it was probably just the student version -"

Ray non-so-subtly kicked me from behind. "You, hole, spade, you moron."

I blushed scarlet and quickly turned back to my seat. "Please, just let it end..." I moaned quietly to Ray, wishing I'd just stayed in bed that morning.

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

I finally made it home after ten, having stayed in the labs far later than everyone else. I couldn't face going home to my new flat to just sit with my thoughts. Frustratingly, I hadn't even been that productive, getting stuck going round in circles on my project research. I was going to have to work a fair amount this weekend to keep up with my study plan.

My phone buzzed as I made it to the top of the stair. Puffing slightly, I glanced at the screen: Ian? What did he want at this time? Probably something to do with the project, but my brain was too fried to cope with anything complicated.

"Hey, what's up?"

"Hi, Jane..." I immediately tensed at his tone - he sounded like he'd been run over by a bus and dragged around half of Edinburgh.

"Ian, are you OK? What's happened?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine, don't worry. Well... actually, I'm not fine. But I'm not hurt badly or anything..."

"Just tell me, what happened?"

"My flatmate opened a door into my face."

I had to hold down a burst of completely inappropriate laughter.

"Ouch, I mean, that's not good!"

"No, not really... and I'm just back from the hospital, and I have concussion."

"Oh no... That's awful. How long for? Is that why you called - do you want me to cover your work for the project next week?" I winced even as I offered - I was barely coping with my workload, never mind someone else's. It wasn't his fault at all though, and I knew no one else would get it done, so I figured I could shoulder the extra work for the next few days.

"Well... that's the bad news. Apparently it's a very severe concussion. I'm not allowed to read for longer than ten minutes for at least the next two months, and potentially up to six months."

My stomach dropped. That was Ian out of the project. That was my right hand man gone.

"Jane? I'm so sorry. I know what this means."

I snapped out of it. "Ian, it's not your fault. Oh my god. I'm so sorry. How will this affect your degree? And exams?"

"I have to speak to the head of department tomorrow, but they should be able to cover it with a medical exemption. I think they'll make special provisions so I only have to sit minimal exams in May, and then sit the rest in August once I can properly revise again."

"That's some relief then." My head was spinning, immediately trying to plan what I was going to do with the project first, prioritising the key tasks I'd given to Ian as well as mine.

"I'm sorry to cut this short... but I need to go and lie down. It's been a really long day."

"Oh, of course! And Ian - seriously, don't worry about it. I'll deal with the project. You just focus on getting better - and avoid those doors!"

He chuckled into the phone. "I will do. And... good luck, Jane."

"Thanks."

I shuffled into the kitchen and started throwing together a no-effort meal of pasta and pesto. There was so much to do. So much to think about. So much to research, and to write. All those process flow diagrams to design with a program I loathed, the whole reason I'd been delighted when Ian offered to take that job. A whole other nine people to keep motivated and working to get this project together - yet nine other people who were already overloaded with their own work, who I couldn't ask to do any more. This was meant to be the whole reason I'd taken extra classes before Christmas - so I could focus on the project. I just needed to focus...

My thought process was interrupted by the kitchen door opening, and for one brief, glorious moment I fully expected Dave to walk through the door. Dave would let me rant, and then he'd make some stupid joke and all the stress would flood away. Dave made everything better.

My third mysterious flatmate walked in and froze abruptly as he saw me, a look of panic on his face. I forced a smile and started asking how he was - only for him to about turn and all but run out of the room. I stood there, bowl in hand, trying to understand what I'd done to make him so uncomfortable, but all I could think about was how different this flat was already from my home with Dave. How empty this one was. How lonely it was.

Hot tears started streaking down my face. I just about made it to my room before I sank down onto the floor, head in my shoulders, as the floodgates opened. I missed not waking up every morning dreading the workload ahead. I missed actually getting sleep. I missed Dave, so, so much.

I missed what I would never, ever have with Bob. I missed the easy, simple friendship we'd never had.

I cried out the stress, the hurt, the pain, the guilt, until nothing was left except exhaustion.

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

Eventually, curled up in my mountain of blankets and pillows, I finally felt like myself again. I'd decided that I was letting myself have a lie in - for one, if I got up at my usual time I'd be good for nothing all day, and two, I deserved a treat before the madness hit.

I scrolled through my emails, clearing all the junk out. Reaching a promotion from match.com, I mindlessly reached to press delete, but something made me pause.

I'd said I was going to get over Bob, right? Properly, this time.

And I'd tried it the 'usual' student way, but the whole drunk pulling thing hadn't worked for me. And if I was honest... I couldn't see it working. I just didn't like clubbing, or even really drinking if I was completely honest.

But this. This was getting to know people first, being able to set my own standards, figuring out what I did like. And with the initial six month promotion, it wasn't even too expensive. The idea sparked and took light, brightening the more I thought about it. Say I gave myself six months - in which to learn more about myself, put myself out there - and actually put some action behind my promise to move on. Even if it didn't work, I wouldn't be any worse off than I was right now.

Heart quickening, not quite believing I was going to do this, I pressed 'register',