Dating

I'm not ready for a new relationship, I won't be for some time, if ever at all.  The pain of betrayal still courses through me, my ability to trust has evaporated, my love for the one who hurt me is depressingly strong.  I'm bored though.  Losing a big chunk of your life, that special somebody who you spent so much time with, devoted so many thoughts to, leaves you feeling empty and alone.  The weekends don't mean that much at the moment and I use them to catch up with sleep, to clear my head of the fuzziness that's been induced by knocking back a bottle of wine on a Friday and Saturday night.  A distraction would be most welcome.  A friend, a bit of company to share crappy thoughts with, hang out with, have a laugh with.

Probably against my better judgement, I've signed up to a couple of dating websites in order to see if there's anybody out there in a similar position to me.  Somebody who's not after a relationship, but just needs a bit of a leg up to get back on track.  

Oh.  Deary.  Me.

The problem with being a gay woman is gay women.  Most of them are screwed up because of being screwed over by other women, who I am convinced are the most evil, conniving and dangerous creatures on the planet.  You see I'm not starting out from a good position here.  Taking a quick look through the photos and profiles of available ladies, for want of a better term, on the websites such as Match or Plenty of Fish, it's obvious that they fall into a number of categories:

1. Bull dykes who I wouldn't want to touch with a bargepole - overweight video game addicts with cropped hair, vest tops, tattoos, piercings, issues
2. Athletic and toned fitness freaks who wear very tight tops to show off their figures.  These women are scary and probably never sit still long enough to have anything like a normal conversation with.
3. Pretty ladies who like pretty ladies
4. Straight couples after a threesome
5. Women who pose holding a glass of wine, or beer who can't string a written sentence together and whose favourite activities include "hang in' out wiv me mates, drinkin', clubs, gettin' pissed, lol"(a high proportion of these also fit into category 1)
6. Politicos
7. Mud-covered festival addicts who probably never wash
8. Women wearing stetsons
9. Women with children
10. Darling transexuals who want women to share makeup hints with and share their shoes and handbags
11. Women whose faces are obscured because they've taken the photo using a mobile phone to capture their image in a mirror.  I mean, come on!  How difficult can it be?

And there's me.  I just want the the company of a woman who's a woman, not a woman who's trying to be a man.  Somebody who's interesting in the few things that I'm interested in.  Somebody who can help me fold the bedding when it comes out of the tumble dryer.

You'd think that working where I work, where there's an astonishingly high proportion of gays and lesbians, I'd have no problem meeting somebody and allowing my natural wit and charm to melt somebody's heart.   Perhaps people are put off by my addiction to knitwear.

It's OK that I'm mostly OK with being alone at the moment.  I think I'm better off that way, given my history with women anyway.  With the spring (I'm sure it'll come), I have projects to undertake around the house. More to the point I have a big project to undertake with myself.  Being very fragile emotionally still, I don't need any distractions from getting myself better.  I also need to get myself fitter physically.  And find a hairdresser.

I'm safer hanging out with my gay friends who are in couples and straight friends who just like me for who I am.  The women can be put on the back burner for now.  Or burnt at the stake for all I care. 

Art

I am a philistine.  I know nothing of art and have no interest in it (add to the list "I like spending time at the theatre and at art galleries" - no, just no), however, I do need a little bit of colour in my little house, so I've acquired a few prints to stick around the place.

This lady is one of Picasso's.  She lives in the Sainsbury Centre for Art in Norwich and you can't actually buy her as a print (Lord only knows why!), but I scanned her from a postcard and got Photobox to do the rest.

That frame that she's in has got to have the tightest-fitting insets known to man.  I sliced my finger trying to get it all together again.  Fucking thing.

Staying with the Picasso thing, this little piece is rally rather jolly:

The frame mount isn't the right size, so there's a chunk of the image obscured, but Cat and Crab on the Beach will look very at home on my chimney breast once the correct mount is in situ.

And finally, who doesn't love a little Kandinsky?

Apparently all those lines and circles signify something very clever and musical/mathematical/philosophical, but I just like the colours.

While I was impressed with the latter two frames that I bought from Ikea, I was less than impressed with my directional skills getting to and going around the store.  Without fail,  I get lost getting there and getting around there, but at least I won't need to visit there again for another couple of years.

Could it be the weather?

It snowed for the first time this winter yesterday.  We'd known it was coming all week.  There was about 10cm of it in total.  It caused absolute havoc.  Why is this?  Even when we're prepared for it, we're hopelessly unprepared for it.

And people who drive in it are generally pathetic and shouldn't be allowed on the road.  I was trying to get to a party last night, but got stuck behind a load of numpties trying to get up the hill who simply didn't know how to drive in the conditions (and BMWs that simply cannot drive in those conditions).  Realising that the scenario would be repeated throughout my journey to the darker reaches of Old Trafford, I gave up.  

Most motorists who get stranded in snowy conditions are either shit drivers, BMW drivers, or the poor bastards who get trapped behind them.