What Do I Do Now?

Hello. Not blogged for a long time. There have been various reasons for not blogging on here. One of which was I actually had a relationship with a female! Yes, amazing though it seems, I actually did! It was purely physical and with someone I used to date about 15-20 years ago. It was great fun - we'd go out, then watch porn and then have wild uninhibited sex for quite some time, but it was never going to last. Just two old friends grasping at straws to be honest.

Then I bumped into my old friend Lisa. I used to work with Lisa. She is slightly younger than me, single and has been for sometime. I have offered my services, but I keep being told I am a friend and THAT IS ALL. And after a long and fruitless conversation with friends tonight I guess they are right- it is going to stay that way. Lisa is still single and still looking for a relationship with someone special. But apparently that person is not me. And never will be. I am just too ginger, just too fat, just too ugly to be her man. And there was me thinking personality had something to do with it. How wrong I was.

Very low tonight, but at least no one ever reads this blog. Unless of course you do read this blog, in which case leave me a message. I'd really appreciate it. I'll still be fucking single, but happier.

Now I Did Not Expect THAT. NOT!

My lovely wife. The one who walked out on me. The one who was frigid for about three years, wouldn't even let me touch her and then fucked off with my son, the one who recently keeps urging me to see someone, or meet someone, well guess fucking what? She's got a date, this Wednesday. She has been set up by a "friend" of hers, a scratter who's other half has just dropped dead of an, as yet, uncertain illness, or drugs overdose. Well, my wife who as she keeps telling me, is completely off sex, is not interested in sex, has nothing whatsoever to do with sex, well she is having a blind date with some complete cunt called Pete this Wednesday. And me, the one with the normal feelings and libido, I am the one who can't get a fucking date with anyone if my life depended on it. Great, fucking wonderful.

So this Wednesday, when I am picking up my beloved son for a holiday, my "FRIGID" wife will be out on a date with her new boyfriend, probably soon to be live in lover/husband. All this and I have discovered on her lap top and Ipad that she is regularly signing into and joining in with spanking websites. Spanking was my wife's one real big turn on when we were together. Funny how this has all just re-surfaced just as she is about to go and have a blind date with Mr Fucking Wonderful. Life sucks more than ever. Cunt cunt cunt.

Enought to make you want to give up

I went out last night. It was nice. Went for a meal with some friends. Now two of the friends, A and R, have been a couple since approximately the beginning of the reign of the Stuarts. But whenever we get together they bring along a friend of R's called S. S is female, single, has been for a very long time and has a nice personality that makes her very attractive. Sometimes she gets a little flirty with me and we might even have the occasional cuddle - but that is as far as it has gone... FOR THE PAST THREE YEARS.

I did wonder for a while if S was a lesbian. She is a bit tomboyish, wears trousers a lot, not really into make up and girly things. But at a "do" back in January when she was there she told me she liked the look of one of the men there that evening - of course it wasn't me, you tit. No it was some smooth, thin, total cunt who has never probably had to try in his entire fucking life. I left early that evening, not because I was in a strop, but I had an appointment somewhere else.

As for last night, we chatted and laughed all evening, we even had a tiny bit of a cuddle when we went to look at the dinner menu on the wall in the pub - it was nice. So the evening finishes, we all wander out to the car park. I shake A by the hand and say goodnight - I get a kiss and a goodbye hug from R, then from S? A kiss on the cheek, a quick hug and she very obviously pulls herself forcibly away from me as I pathetically hold out for a bit more. Well that makes it fucking clear doesn't it. So I now officially cannot even pull a androgynous, trousers wearing probable dyke who's been single since the Crimean War.

This is a down. This is a big, big down. I am getting tired of life. Is it wrong to think longingly of death? I'm not there yet, but after last night I am a small step closer.

A Little Reminder

Rose tinted spectacles are curious things. They can put all sorts of gloss on the most odd things. My wife walked out and left me in 2008, after about two years of her frigidity and, to be honest, some stupidity on my behalf. But, before you ask, I was always faithful. We are still friends and I get to see her very often when I go and visit her and my darling son - they live nearly 200 miles away from me now, but I am lucky that my work brings me close to them on a fairly regular basis. I have been with them for this past week and it has as ever, been a delight to be with my young son. I love him so much. But if I ever needed a reminder of my wife's barking mad behaviour, then this week has been a perfect example. Everything I am going to list is exactly what it was like living with her when we were together, but is what she is like still, so if I do mess up my past and present tenses, then please be gentle with me.

1. 
   
   She is always tired. As soon as she comes home from work, or shopping, or anywhere you know within a few minutes the "God, I'm tired" announcement is coming. Usually followed by a fairly unflattering unladylike jaw-dislocating yawn. She sleeps all hours, snores like a traction engine with a shagged drive shaft, and when we were together was frequently in bed and unconscious by 8pm.


2. 
   
   Is constantly either playing on her i-phone or i-pod. She will ignore everyone when this is in place - my son, the cat, me... everyone. When we were together you'd get into bed at the end of the day, one of those occasional evenings when she would manage to stay awake for longer than 8pm, but as soon as we were in bed, her back would be turned to me, headphones on, game in hand. She has been like this all this week. Not at any time have we done anything together as a family really. As soon as she is in the room out comes the I-phone/pod and fuck everyone else.


3. 
   
   Personal hygiene, or complete lack of it. She has a bath most days, but seems to avoid any form of body deodorant or anti-perspirant. Never ever seems to brush her teeth. You can sometimes smell her breath from across the room. Not nice.


4. 
   
   Has to have some sort of crisis going on all the time to keep her happy. Her auntie died recently - she fucking loved that. Great chance to get some really serious amounts of wallowing in family grief in. Another Aunt of hers is currently on her last knockings, so she'll probably play this for all it's worth as well. Our son has mild learning difficulties, but the way she goes on about him you'd think he was just a single eyeball floating in a jar or formaldehyde. He is doing great, but yet the great ex-Missus has to constantly find more and more labels and problems to pin on him. Let him be.


5. 
   
   Religious crutch. It used to be Paganism. She really really got into paganism when we were married. Fuck we even had a pagan wedding ritual - a hand fasting, which was cool. But that has now been kicked into touch as she is now sliding inexorably towards being a fucking Catholic. She goes to church every Sunday now, is out again tonight at the church, regularly wanders round clutching a bible to her bosom and is slowly going out of her fucking mind.


6. 
   
   Stupid ideas/hobbies. She has started so many courses, hobbies etc., and never sees them through to the end. She loses interest after just a few weeks, or even days in some instances. There have been health fads, diet fads, art fads, writing fads - you never know, all this Catholic bollocks could just turn out to be another fad. But she is now doing it with my son. Karate, dance, football, drama, music - all clubs he has joined that I have paid for and that within a few weeks have been abandoned due to some crappy excuse or another.


7. 
   
   Turns music on in a room - loudly, stays there for a few seconds, then goes off to another part of the house leaving the music blaring away in the corner. If you're leaving, just turn the fucking thing off, please! And lights. And TV's. And computers. And DVD players. And just about anything that is going to cost you money in electricity bills - or me, as I usually end up paying.


8. 
   
   Wasting money. Constantly pleads poverty and borrows money off me left right and centre, yet constantly has things being delivered from catalogues, Amazon, Ebay etc. DVD's, CD's, books, furniture - you name it. Is now banging on about how she wants and I-pad or a Kindle reader. She wants locking up. What is wrong with reading a fucking book?

Oh there is probably loads more, but I just had to get this off my chest this evening. It has been sitting with me like a cancer, growing stronger and eating away at me. Drop me a line - anyone, even one of those mad bastards in Burkina Faso trying to get me to look after their $34,000,000 that their late husband stashed away. rob.gillan@yahoo.co.uk

Same Old Same Old

(left) A typically unpleasant attractive man yesterday.

Christ, I am so utterly sick of the way women constantly contradict themselves. On the one hand you get this group of ladies constantly hacking on about when it comes to the attractiveness of men, they go for personality every time. Whereas, all of us pug ugly blokes know that if I were in the company of these "perfectly normal" ladies, chatting away, being self-effacing, articulate, witty and charming, it would only take some complete knob-end who happened to be a male model to walk in and I might as well be a paper bag full of two week old dog crap for all the attention they would pay to me.

One lady friend of mine who changes her boyfriends about as often as she changes her knickers, was once spouting off to me about how awful her life was. What was the problem, I asked. Well, she kept meeting these men and they all turned out to be bastards. Why was this? Because she kept picking mean, moody looking men, who looked cruel as they were her big turn on. And after dating them and shagging them for a few weeks, what did Professor Oft-Changed-Knickers discover? Yes! They were all a bunch of arrogant unpleasant nasty cunts who were only interested in themselves in a very selfish way. I did once suggest about dating someone like me, but she nearly had to break out a fresh supply of Tena Lady pads, she laughed so raucously. Apparently I am really safe, and like a brother to her. So in other words I might as well go and saw my wedding tackle off now as I shall have no further use for the fucking things in future. And she is also one of these sorts of very attractive people that if she is single for more than about three weeks, she starts to go a bit deranged, questioning her very being and place on Planet Earth. Try being me, love. Single - completely and utterly, since 2008 officially, but the way my wife, and her frigid ice filled knickers carried on probably officially single/sexless since about 2006. Yes, try that, then tell me you're really alone and sad.

So if anyone, and I mean anyone is actually reading this fucking blog, can you tell me what to do next? Mail me, at rob.gillan@yahoo.co.uk and let me know what I should do to meet a perfectly nice normal lady who is going to look at me not as some huge fat ugly elderly monster, but as a sane pleasant human being with more personality than is probably legal in most EU countries, who is also witty, charming, and articulate; educated, professional and relatively wealthy; and, when given the chance, very very romantic. What the fuck do I do? I think I can guess the answers - you'll just meet someone, you see. NO I FUCKING WON'T - IT DOESN'T HAPPEN LIKE THAT TO FAT UGLY BASTARDS LIKE ME! Stop trying and you'll just bump into Ms Right! ARGH! FUCK OFF! I WON'T! AND EVEN IF I DID, I AM SO HUGE I'D PROBABLY CRUSH THE POOR BITCH! I have been looking, on and off, for the past FIVE years and I have not met anyone yet, please tell me when is it going to end? I NEED TO KNOW.

Top 5 Excuses For Being Dumped!

Not posted in a long while. Not because life is any better or I have found the woman of my dreams. Ha! Fat chance of that happening. But thought I had better add something to the blog just in case someone somewhere is reading it. So I have been thinking back to all my old romantic failures and I have been pretty impressed by some of the excuses women have come up with not to carry on having a relationship with me, and I have selected my own personal top 5. Hope you enjoy these. So in no particular order, we begin with:

1. I was dating a very lovely lady called Caroline when I used to live in London, many centuries ago it seems now. She was everything I had ever wanted in a woman, two legs and a pulse, you know. All joking aside she was gorgeous. Small, brunette, pale skin, beautiful brown eyes, and bright and feisty with it. I was in awe of her. Naturally it didn't last, and her excuse for dumping me was: "I am not being fair to you, you are putting everything into this relationship and I'm not. So to save you from hurt, I think we should just be friends." Ouch.
2. I had a brief dalliance with a friend of mine's younger sister. She was called Anne and she was fun! Cute as a button, eccentric, smart and very attractive in an elfin kind of way. I thought I had really hit the jackpot on this one. Then I got my birthday card from her - something of a kick in the cobblers really. "Have a happy birthday, but sorry to say this, I really don't want a relationship with anyone at the moment - so it's not you, but I am afraid it is over between us. Sorry!" How I laughed as I blew out the candles on my cake. How I nearly choked on the cake when two weeks later she shacked up with some new bloke. Funny old world, innit?
3. At my sister's wedding in 1991 I met a lovely lady called Rebecca. Her previous relationship had been with a complete wanker of a man who treated her like shit, so the poor lovely lady was quite fragile when I met her. But I was at my gallant best. I did my best to be charming, polite, always taking her out to dinner and insisting on picking her up and driving her wherever she wanted to go. And she said: "I can't possibly have a relationship with you, you're far too nice." Dammit! I just knew I should have punched her on the nose on our first date.
4. Another wonderful lady, called Emily. Beautiful, sweet, cute as a button. I adored her so much. However, the feeling apparently was not reciprocated as I was "Too safe. You're just like a brother to me." What a pain in the arse it is to be too safe.
5. Not even made it to a relationship with this one. I went to a party in Gravesend in Kent (well, someone has to) and whilst at the party I met this really fabulous lady called Lindy. She had bubbly hair, and a bubbly personality, cute little body and was lots of fun. We had a really wild time at the party, dancing together all night and having a truly memorable evening. She told me she hated meeting men at parties as "you always give them your telephone number but they never call you back." At the end of the evening, while I was slowly being dragged away from her I asked her for her number. She told me I'd never call. I beseeched her, I implored to her, I assured her - I would most definitely call her! I would, I would! So she wrote her number down, put the words "call me" next to it, and a kiss. Ah! What could possibly go wrong. I called her. Would she like to meet up and go for a drink sometime? "With you? You must be joking." And she hung up. Great.

So there you have it. The awful top five. If anyone does read this crap and wants to share fob offs, then please email me at rob.gillan@yahoo.co.uk and let's compare notes.

Never Had No One Ever

Where do I start? I could bore the arseholes off you with stories of teenage crushes, unrequited love with some spotty girl I wouldn’t look twice at now, and all the other endless horrors of growing up and puberty that we must all suffer. But I shall plead my case for being horrendously ugly with one fine example, and then we shall get on with the story. At the age of about 17, when most other males of that age that I knew were copping off with vast amounts of hormonally supercharged sex bombs, I was, as ever, plodding along in the slow lane of life, wondering where the hell I was going to get a girlfriend from. Then, like a shaft of light dawning on the darkest of nights, a brilliant plan presented itself to me. I would get a female pen pal! How about that for a winner? I duly advertised in some teenage magazine, that I was “Male, 17, into Big Country, Howard Jones, Marillion and all things groovy. Would like to correspond with girls 16+” or some such nonsense. Well, despite it’s less than Earth shattering excitement or originality, that little advert garnered me something like 23 replies from all over the UK. They ranged from sweet little girls who had responded simply because I was a male, and had absolutely no other interest in common with me, to one obviously sex obsessed teenage girl in Manchester who sent me a pair of her extremely skimpy panties and had poured enough cheap perfume over the pages she had written to me to strip paint off a wall from about 10 yards. To be honest, she just frightened me.
However, the two best responses I got were both from young ladies in Nottinghamshire. One was a fairly sweet lady called Caroline, but who insisted on being called Caz, and was a big fan of Big Country, whereas the other was from a girl in Newark called Angie who was cute as a button (she’d sent me a photo) and an even BIGGER Big Country fan. That was it for me! Angie was the winner! We swapped about two letters a week, full of the usual teenage nonsense, discussing which Big Country album we liked best, how many times we had seen the band “live” and Angie frequently telling me about just how gorgeous Stuart Adamson was. The letters got longer and longer, and we obviously were yearning for each other. Angie made it abundantly clear that she wanted to meet up – and soon. However, there was one sticking point; Angie was a little miffed that I hadn’t sent her a picture of me yet. I had made some brilliant excuses of course – my camera is broken; I don’t have any fingers so I can’t press the shutter; what is a camera anyway? Etc. All good stalling tactics, but I knew I was fighting a losing battle and simply delaying the inevitable. I gave in and started hunting high and low through my parent’s piles of photos, trying to find one of me that didn’t look too much like a cross between a strategically shaved Orangutan and a water bed. I finally found one of me looking quite sharp, in a suit, at a recent wedding reception for a cousin of mine in Bournemouth. It was really quite flattering and didn’t look too much like me. That should do the trick! I duly wrote a long impassioned letter to Angie, told her that this was exactly what I looked like and how I couldn’t wait for us to meet up. The letter was posted with great ceremony and my heart began to sing and dance as only young foolish heart can in those first few moments when you know that true love has been born.
I never heard from Angie again. No doubt when she opened that letter and my appalling mug fell out of the envelope, she must have screamed alarmingly as all her dreams of me sunk slowly down the drain and reality set in. It was a bitter pill to swallow and one of the first really big blows to my confidence. But there were plenty more to follow.