Blessed are the poor in spirit...

Had a chat with mum this morning at 4:20 a.m. That is not just cuz she lives in Iran and for her it was midday, but it was because forthe first time in a year and a half, I had one of those nights when I thought I would be crushed by the weight of my despair. Wow. This is gonna be a FUN note kids. Depression is just what you needed today right? Lol. Well, there is a silver lining if you will bear with me.

I am not a foreigner to insomnia. We were best friends all through O'Levels (the most stressful string of exams I have ever survived in my entire life. For the Americans out there, you write them in high school). But last night's insomnia felt like a full frontal attack on my sensabilities.

As hinted in previous notes (apparantly telling the world my thoughts is...cathartic...or something. Go figure), I have been going through some stuff personally. And I am a struggling Christian trying to figure herself out. So last night I had one of those "dark moments" you hear those T.V. Christians talking about all the time because I felt I had effed it all up rather royally. Yes, the Christian girl just made reference to the f-word. Shoot me.

Have you ever felt overwhelmed? I mean truly overwhelmed by your own problems to the point where you physically feel like you are being crushed? Am I going too deep for you here kids? Ok, I'll take it down a notch.I felt bad. Really, really bad. And alone. Really, really, horribly alone. And like all grown-up women who are independant and self-posessed... I wanted my mum. Really, really badly.

And I called her and she was briliant. My mum is not the "Oh honey, you're fabulous and don't matter what anyone says to you or does, you're perfect and mummy's here for you and mummy will make it all better, just tell mummy everything" type. No, I dare say my mother has a brain.

Mum is the practical type. Don't get me wrong, she's not the other kind of mum, the mean cow who yells at you for having feelings and tells you to "man up dammit!" No. My mum is a powerful force to be reckoned with and yet very gentle and loving.

She said it wasn't my fault I felt depressed. She said I didn't even have to know why I was. She said. I needed to stop working so hard and to slow down and meet with God. She said she prays for me always.

She was exactly what I needed at 4:20 in the morning as I lay in my bed, in my apartment, feeling all alone and too small for my own shoes, so to speak. And now I am moving forward I think.

Why does this matter to you in the least? It doesn't. I didn't really write it for you. I wrote this for me. I am becoming far too thoughtful these days. I should stop thinking so much and I should stop feeling the need to force-feed you these mental masterbations of mine. But I'm a writer. It's kinda like asking a firefighter to ignore a fire, or a doctor to ignore a body bleeding to death by the side of the road. I mean, honestly.

Bad things always come in plurals as it would seem

So. Now that the shock of what I did with my boss has finally sunk in, we can move on to bigger and better problems, can't we? We can indeed.

I'm a flirt. I'm sure that was blaringly obvious to everyone else on the planet but me. I honestly did not think I was one. But I seem to get myself into all these fixes and it must be because I open myself up to them.

A guy I have been friends with for a while now messed everything up last night. He is from my country and we have honestly been nothing but on and off friends for about a year and a half. I say on and off because we just don't see each other that often and we don't talk terribly often. Anyway. He comes over at times to my flat. No biggie right? I am passionate about music and so is he and we listen to my music, I introduce him to artists and genres he is not exposed to and we hang out and have harmless no-strings-attached fun. Right? Wrong.

He came over last night. We hung out. He helped me move my bed. He stayed for four hours. Hmmn. He gave me a foot massage. You would think I would have been clever enough to do some damage control then. I knew what was happening but was in denial about it. I was in serious denial because I seriously did not want it to happen. I'm friends with him. That is how I want it to be.

He left at midnight and I sighed in relief. I'm such a deluded moron.

He called me half an hour later and said he had been sitting in the parking lot the whole time since he left and that he had something he wanted to say to me. In person. Curses.

I let him back in. Moron. He spent twenty minutes saying he had no words to express himself. And then he kissed me. Ay Dios Mio. Yo no se que hacer!!

I sat there and then, as to not make it any more awkward, I tentatively kissed him back. Not really but I wasn't just sitting there and he would not stop. Ugh! It was strange and I wanted it to stop but he wouldn't. Finally I got him to but it was a mission trying to get him to leave my place. He finally left and I was annoyed. I hated that he had to do that because now I have to be mean. I do not want this. I don't know what I want but I don't think I want this.

And as if that was not bad enough. I called my boss to tell him about it because I was in panic mode and needed advice, and so I called him. We shall call him the Flower Bandit. That is my nickname for him because he told me every girl he has ever shagged before me was a virgin. He stole their flowers, hence Flower Bandit.

Flower Bandit was at his girlfriend's house nursing her back to health from her bad case of strep throat. Ugh! Why do I do stupid things? Why?

As expected, Flower Bandit was not helpful and I regretted calling him because I was not ignoring him like I promised myself I would because it is all getting too complicated for me. I want to disappear. That is not the grown up thing to do and would not solve anything but I want to go away and never come back.

I've gone and shagged my boss

My stomach hurts. No, not becuz of the title of this post, though that would be appropriate. I suppose the half can of blue full throttle and the cheez-its for breakfast must have something to do with my tummy ache. Ugh.

So its been about three months and, as expected, I've managed to make life that much worse for myself. I have become that woman of ill-repute that you read about and tsk-tsk because she is just so scandalous. Ok, I tend to exaggerate an awful lot, but you have to admit you are a bit curious as to what I have done and how I managed to screw it all up arent you? Yes you are.

Last time I blogged fairly consistently I was going on about the bloke from my country who I was pseudo dating and who I found out had a kid. That was a shocker and made me think...for a split second and then I just pretended it had not been said. Blinking moron. So because there were no othr prospects, I indulged whatever that was between me and him though I admit that I ignored him a lot more and began losing much more interest. He began to get annoying , but I have no clue why. I suppose I just ignored all the annoying bits before and when my interest began to wan, I noticed them a lot more.

In comes my boss who I had been talking to a lot more now. I would tease him and he'd tease me back and several times I thought I might be developing a mini crush on him. Then I would think, thats ridiculous. He's nine years older than me, got a girlfriend (an "open" relationship is still a relationship in my book) and is so not someone who would wake up one morning and be like "oh my goodness I think I love you." I mean let's be realistic about life here shall we? Yes, we shall.

So at some point we had this ritual of going for drinks after work on Fridays. Ok, so it was only twice, whatever. Anyway I do not drink for pleasure. I do not seek out alcohol and to be honest I am not a big fan. I'd rather have a coke, you know? But I went and I drank and it was all just to spend time with him Do I sound pathetic yet? Oh no, it gets wore. Sit tight.

So after the second week I was talking to him a lot more liberally. We began text messaging a lot. My last phone bill was atrocious because I had not switched over to unlimited texts mesages yet. I have now. I average about 3000 a month, just with him. Ya. Bad. Bad, bad, bad. OK. So at this point my confusion level is at a very high level right? What does this man want from me? Why is he spending so much time with me? Is he really with his chick or what? What does he really think of me? Why wont he leave me alone? Why am I indulging this when I know damn well this is dangerous territory and at some point I will be hurt. I'm such a deluded moron.

We upgraded to him coming over to my flat. At first just hanging out in my TV-less living room trying to make conversation. Awkwardish at times. Then hanging out and his tickling me. What? We never had ANY sort of physical contact before. Red Flag.

Then we went dancing. I'm sorry. People in the 50s and 60s go dancing. No, we went to the club.

Ya. So apprantly I dance like a stripper or a whore or someting, I dunno. Red Flag.

We text for a week and it comes up every so often. "We should do it again sometime" we both say back and forth. Red Flag. Then we did do it again. And on the dance floor he kisses me. RED FLAG RED FLAG RED FLAG!!!! We go back to my flat. He comes up. BLOODY RED FLAG DAMN YOU!!!

We make out. Half naked girl. Majorly inappropriate behavior. Ay Dios Mio. By this point, it really only was a train track down to hell for me, there was no stopping the runaway train that was my hormones. I was jonesing (is that how you spell that? dunno, whatev) for this man.

The next night he came over with movies. We watched one. And then we made out. And then we shagged. Bollucks the dozey cow. I flipping shagged me boss. Well, manager, but boss in any event. Who is nine years older than me and has a girlfriend. Remember when I asked if you thought I was pathetic earlier? Well, I think now is an appropriate juncture to think that with abandon and even tack on a few other words onto my growing list. Oh yes, I have a list children. A big one. And not an inch of it is good.

So. I'm a whore. I sleep with my boss and I sleep with other girls' men. And the bloody ironic thing in all his? His girlfriend has not shagged him. They have been an item for three years and she is a proper Christian girl who honors her body and did not want to compromise her faith for lust. In three years he has not shagged her and he is still with her. She is basically everything I thought I would be. A virgin and holding fast to her faith and moral values. And I am the classic harlot who deserves nothing less than to be stoned to death. Even biblical Rahab was better than me cuz at least that chick was redeemed and knew better at some point and was even restored in the Lord's eyes to the point of being in the direct lineage of Jesus Christ. The major harlot of the old testament, one of them at least, was better than me. Dear Lord in Heaven, what have I done?