Sunday, 25 February 2018

Please help me Josh

Dear Josh

Thank you for taking the time to read this. I doubt you're aware of my existence, but I became a fan/ developed a humongous crush on you after my marriage fell apart (proof here) 5 or 6 years ago.

The other night I was taking a bath1 (which isn't, of itself, a sufficiently rare occurrence to warrant a blog post), reflecting on the failed relationships I've had2 and realised I'm officially too old for this shit. I'm mid thirties, I have a cat and my hair is a different colour every couple of months. It's only a matter of time before I become "that woman". What I need is a relationship that saves me from my otherwise inevitable collection of teapots, and I don't see it happening with any guy I randomly stumble across at work3.

Now, I'm not exactly an expert on advanced science - I've never so much as spliced a gene - but I've watched a lot of Star Trek and I'm confident I can combine lessons from The Masterpiece Society4 and Search for Spockto create the perfect man.

I have the necessity which drives invention and if Sheldon Cooper can create glow in the dark goldfish, I'm pretty sure I can rebuild Genesis and use it to accelerate the growth of a life form. It may seem like a lot of work for a date, but the alternative is going back on OK Cupid and I'm so not in the mood.

As a smart man, I'm sure you've realised the missing element: the basis of the life form.

Unfortunately, through no fault of your own, you are now probably the longest lasting romantic interest in my somewhat dubious history6. It occurs to me that it would be a simple matter to create an embryo and replace its DNA with your own. Once that exists, it should only take a few seconds and a couple of earthquakes to bring my little abomination of science to his late thirties, thereby providing me with a relationship without impacting on your personal time.

With regards to your contribution: I don't want to ask for a hair sample, because ripping hair out by your roots seems to be asking too much, and I'd never take joy from your dog by asking for an old shoe. It seems the only reasonable request is for a sweaty t-shirt from you, which will hopefully contain some viable epithelial cells7.

We've already discussed how my success is dependant upon the genesis project and I suspect you're curious as to my current progress with it. I admit, I've not got accelerated terraformation figured out yet, but with international posting I reckon I won 't receive the t-shirt for three to four months. That's plenty of time.

I look forward to your aid in this matter.


1 - I promise this post isn't about my personal hygiene
2 - In my defence, no two of my relationships have ended for the same reason.
3 - I work at a college. It would be illegal with most of them, and with the few remaining it would be a bad idea.
4 - The episode where a planet with a genetically superior human race was saved when Geordie observed that his visor would fix their problems. The "superior" race were surprised that such innovation had come from the outsiders, and Geordie's response was essentially that they'd never had blind people, so never needed to develop this technology.
5 - In which Spock's body grew from 0 to 53 over the course of a couple of earthquakes, while his soul was squatting in Dr McCoy's head.
6 - Admittedly this success may be attributed more to the lack of physical proximity or communication between us than to any actual compatibility.
7 - I also watch basically every forensic detective show known to man except CSI. I don't have anything against it, I just can't find the enthusiasm.

Tuesday, 13 February 2018

How it ended

Alternatively titled: Why you shouldn't gamble anything you aren't prepared to lose.

I loved him. He was adamant he didn't love me.

I was pretty sure he did and just wasn't comfortable admitting it.

So I gambled.

I told him it worried me how adamant he was that he didn't love me and that I felt I deserved to be loved. I told him I was happy, but I hoped he would love me one day and if I ever gave up on that hope, we'd have to break up.

I hoped he would reflect on it, and the potential end of our relationship and he would be distressed enough by the concept to re-evaluate the nature of his emotions.

Instead of feeling pain or worry at the prospect of losing us, whatever he felt spurred him on to break up with me sooner rather than waiting for me to do it later.

I accused him of cowardice because, at the time, I still thought he was just denying that he loved me and having control of things (i.e. instigating the break up) is one of his ways of avoiding distress.

But no. I still hurt, but have to acknowledge the more likely truth is that he doesn't love me. Never has and never will.

It's easier to accuse him of cowardice than admit that I'm fundamentally unlovable.

So yeah. Don't gamble, kids.

Monday, 12 February 2018


When I met you, I was scared
Encased in armour
Shielding myself from life
Love, hope, fear, pain, broken promises and betrayal
But my armour was badly speccd
Not fit for purpose
And when we met, the holes in my chainmail became apparent
I broke first
I ran away, too scared to trust
But I came back
And together we anchored
Sharing responsibilities, pressures, those little things
And as I learned more about you I saw
You are a beautiful, sleek yacht
Well designed
I am a makeshift raft
Bobbing in turbulent waters
Comfortable on a journey
Uncertain of the destination
And you let me share your anchor
I knew however high the waves grew
I would never be lost
There are ties between us
Entangled after so long kiting around a shared point
And then you weighed anchor
Cut me loose
Sailed away
I would have followed you
If you'd only thrown me a line
But you are a speedy vessel
Cutting efficiently through surf
As the storm gathers
And my love and I
Lie discarded in your wake