I’m watching 101 Dalmatians ( I never knew Hugh Laurie appeared in this) for the second time today with a stupid grin on my face. I have a date after new year. I’m excited. I’ll call him Fish. As usual with all the pseudonyms I use here, it’s got something to do with the meaning of his first name. Anyway, on Christmas Eve while I was chatting to a friend of mine who is out of the country, he  happened to mention about his best friend who recently got a new job in UK. He asked me if it was OK to give him my email address because he could use a friend, being new and all. I told him that was fine by me. I could use a new friend too.

We started chatting on Skype and msn on Christmas. He is gorgeous! I mean, he’s so handsome I just want to eat him. I especially appreciate that he’s very intelligent so conversations with him have been very stimulating…eeer mentally, if you are wondering.

Coincidentally he comes from the same country that King comes from. I think I mentioned I have a weakness for those, but my oh my, he is so different from King.  Very different. I’m going to prepare for the date as if my life depended on it. I really like this guy.


My mum got a call yesterday from some woman at UK Borders. It’s about my brother, he needs to travel out of the country for a school trip but as I mentioned before due to the complications that have risen, we are now not sure if he will. I don’t know what it is with these people but with the way they are going about issues, I’m tempted to assume they are either a.) skilled in scare mongering tactics b.) not the shiniest tools in the box. My mum thinks they didn’t even go to school altogether!

This woman calls her to, supposedly, update her on my brother’s case ( they detained him and took away his passport and student I.D at Gatwick Airport) Mind you, my brother is underage! This was after my mum’s application got stuck in their distorted entanglement of bureaucracy. My mum was at work when this happened. She left everything and rushed to the airport to get my brother. Next day we received a letter citing the reason for taking my brother’s documents as; ‘it appears the person concerned forged the  documents’. I’m sorry, what!? I think they’re having a laugh here. For Pete’s sake, my brother is underage! Underage. Underage. Underage. This boy does not even know how the inside of his passport looks like! My mum keeps his passport for him and gives it to him when he needs to travel. At the airport! So where the flipping heck did they get this one from? It’s just simply farcical!

It would have made sense for them to say, ” Since you’ve still got a case pending with the Home Office, I’m afraid your son will not be able to travel out of the country.”

That is more believable. Right now we are not sure whether he is going to miss out on this trip or not. He’s due to travel in about two weeks. My mum got off the phone, ” Do these people know if I wanted I could sue them for causing emotional distress to my son?”

“I could sue them for serious money!”


Yesterday as me and my mum were watching  TV, a text came through on my mum’s phone. It was my ex boyfriend. Not King. This was a guy I broke up with in February this year. I had already fallen out of love with him about four months earlier but I just couldn’t bring myself to tell him because a.) I was scared of being alone b.) I had this false perception that we’d gone through a lot therefore it was my obligation to stay.

How naïve could anyone get? Sometimes when I look back at me then, I laugh at myself. I’m just so glad I’ve grown up. I held down this ‘relationship’ for four and a half years. FOUR AND A HALF YEARS! I never cheated, never even thought of it. Never even allowed myself to think of any other man, and, it was a long distance relationship to boot! I look back at it sometimes and feel like kicking myself because it wasn’t a ‘relationship’. It was an obsession. You know when you are in high school and all the other girls are about boys, boys, boys and more boys? I got into this ‘thing’ because I didn’t want to be left out. I wanted to be ‘one of those girls’…then, it became all I knew. We met for the first time when I was 15. This guy said he loved me and forced me to say I loved him too on the first day. Out of no experience I said it and thought that was OK. Due to some peculiar circumstances, I never saw him again for three and a half years ( despite living in the same country, same region), yet for some reason I still believed I loved him very much and he felt the same way too. We did the texts, phone calls, emails thing ( I mostly did it…infact, I did it all the time because he had no money) Everytime he planned to visit, something came up and it always had to do with having no money, although half the time he didn’t admit it.

Three and a half years later, I see him, we spend four days. First day in which he said that he was going to come out and hang out with me but didn’t turn up. Second day in which we spent it at his uncle’s wedding, so basically we didn’t have much time to ourselves. I had this feeling at the back of my mind that he was showing me off to his family, but I brushed it aside because I thought that was how love was supposed to be. I really did not want to attend the wedding, he had to force me. I did it out of courtesy, you see, I’m so nice. Too nice.  Third day in which I saw him for about half an hour in the morning because he had to go to work, the rest of the day, I went shopping with his sister. We didn’t speak much. Fourth day, again, only for about half an hour.

Yet, we still called this a ‘relationship’. Phone calls, texts, emails..e.t.c. This was the order of the day until around July 2008 when, as if I woke up from a wicked spell, I decided I couldn’t go on. It dawned on me that I had been wasting my time. He got a job over 5000 miles way from me and the constant conversations on the phone about our future plans, saving money to visit him, waiting for each other e.t.c were wearing me out. I hated it. This guy even had the impertinence to propose to me. Talking about marrying me when I finished uni. Hallo!? I’m turning 21 in a few weeks time. Why would I want to get married at 21? Needless to say, I said yes just to please him adn then proceeded to stress about why I had said yes. I hated him for doing this to me. I hated myself for blindly putting myself through it. I detested everything about myself and wanted out. It was disgusting. I wasn’t going to waste any more time, so I decided to end it. This is when I fully realised how insecure and needy he was. I remember around the time I went to see him, he mentioned something about ‘ I can’t live without you’, ‘ I don’t know what I’d do without you’, ‘You’re my everything’, ‘I need you to help me and be there for me, especially with the financial problems I have’

Did I mention that this guy asked me for money, not once but twice. The first time, I really had nothing, but he begged me and I gave in. Second time, I literally had nothing but since I felt guilty and didn’t want to lose him, I gave it to him anyway. OK, maybe it was my fault. Maybe I came across as loaded. Maybe my family was a bit priviledged than his. I appreciate that maybe that was the case, but, a loving and caring man DOES NOT ask money from his woman! That’s just how it works, especially since we were not even married or engaged or anything! For crying out loud, I was 19!

I was so pissed off, I made up my mind that I would not turn 20 while still with him. I just would not. I told him I didn’t want to continue with the relationship in December 2008, he waited  a while before any response, presumably he was living in denial and hoping this would go away ( this wasn’t the first time I’d done this which goes to show you the extent to which I was unsure about this relationship) Around the second week of January, a few days after my birthday, he called me to beg me to stay with him, saying we had gone through a lot. Who fucking cares what we’ve gone through? What exactly did we go through? Distance? Headaches and sleepless night because we missed each other? What was this thing that we went through? At this point I didn’t care, I said I’m putting a fork in it and I’m out.

I thought that was that. I was hugely disappointed and doubly pissed off but not surprised when I got a message from him while on an Erasmus exchange in February this year. He said maybe we should think about it a little bit more because he still loved me and he knew I still loved him. This is where this looser guy was wrong. He thought he owned me. He took me for granted. Assumed that I was his by default. I caved in, silly me. I said, ok maybe we could try. Then he started harassing me on Facebook by thinking that every statement I made there was about him.

On Valentines day, I spent the day with my two handsome Mexican housemates. One of them bought me Hershey’s chocolate and we went window shopping. Chattering and laughing loudly in the streets of one of the cities of said Erasmus country. I got home, opened my Facebook and there was a message from him, with that air of entitlement again ‘Happy Valentine my love’. I wanted to throw up. I didn’t reply. Shut off the computer and spent the night cuddled in one of the Mexican’s arms as we watched TV. Three days later, I made it clear to him. Crystal. It was the end, he should never contact me. I did not want to be his friend. I meant it.

He called me in April, I said I did not want to talk to him. I met King in May. He texted me in June saying he missed me, I told him to get lost or I might consider that as harassment. In July my phone got stolen while I was on holiday somewhere in sunny Africa. I cursed at first but when I got back home and got a number I thanked God because I realised everything happens for a reason. He didn’t have my number anymore. Perfect. He still has my mum’s number though.

Yesterday, I told her to ignore him and never to give him my number. Over my dead body will I ever get back with him.


I’ve been extraordinarily broody and depressed for the past few days. I have a good way of not showing it to my family ( mainly by keeping mum and watching too much TV or pretending to read a course book) I have this feeling tagging at my heart. It’s heavily weighing me down. I’m thinking about my future again. I can’t help but get scared.

I’ve spent three nights planning out different scenarios for my future. I’ve even got a plan Z! But…What if all these plans don’t work out? Will I be doomed to live a miserable life? To be honest, I was very positive after the mock interview because I was so sure what I wanted then…finally. I had gone to see my careers advisor and we had discussed so many things that I just found myself with a solid careers plan. I had also resolved to tackle some personal issues. This is where I mentioned about laying off the menfolk. Unfortunatley, I have a problem.

Actually I have TWO  major problems.

One, my mum just informed of some very disappointing news. She had problems with her (our) visa applications. No,  we were not planning on going anywhere. We ( the family) simply need something done with our visas. I will get to this part of my life in upcoming posts. The thing is, my mum has had to postpone her starting date at a new job ( a lucrative position at a top company) because she now has a case in her hands. Think of how I wouldn’t have to starve anymore.Or the numerous pairs of skinny jeans I would finally own.

Find lawyer. Meet lawyer at ungodly hours because said lawyer is uber swamped with a multitude of cases. Set a hearing date. Get numerous documents ( sometimes copies of the same thing over and over). Wait.

That’s all she’s been doing. She’s my hero. Her attitude to life is just so cheerful it’s unbelievable. She hasn’t gone into a panic attack, she hasn’t falling into a bottomless pit of depression. Nothing. As if I need to tell you that if this was me, I would probably have offed myself by now. It’s fucking ridiculous. My mother has worked and paid taxes in this country for the past eight years. Eight bloody legal years in this country and this is what she gets.

I must admit I’ve observed that she is mighty pissed. Not depressed, not wallowing in self-pity, but pissed off. She’s starting to think of asking the company to give her  an international position somewhere else in Europe or Australasia. This could mean moving to a new country. Now, as much as I said I want to get out and see the world, I don’t like the sound of this. This sounds so unstable. Basically, I wanted my base ( family et al) here in UK. While I travelled to wherever I wanted to, and lived, for a short period or longer. I just wanted to be able to come back to a place that is already established. End of.

My dad on the hand hasn’t taken this too well. He’s majorly stressed out about it and being weird and angry all the time. He trying a little bit, I give him that, to offer the support needed here. Looking at those documents a trillion times every single day. How glorious and beautiful is my life. Just lovely!

*Post about the menfolk to follow shortly.


I suddenly have this strong urge to learn and be fluent in a foreign language. I’ve  always been a foreign languages lover, having taken the occasional courses here and there but this time the feeling is just too strong. I’ve started classes for two languages so far, however they feel a bit so slow. I’m at this point where I want to make a huge change in my life that I’m willing to start paying for intensive ( and expensive) language courses.