update

Well, i got on the online dating site, and I had mail...POF guy D., who is totally new. We got chatting, and he actually sounded interesting, so now I have a coffee date for tomorrow afternoon...gawd, I can just imagine the impression I'll make with my puffy eyes and hacking cough...oh, well...

Moth to a flame...

This cold is killing me. Quite literally, I'm afraid. I've been coughing till I throw up the last three days. I can't even focus my eyes to read, let alone post, which sucks, as I am totally bored with being sick.

Of course, as I haven't had the energy to drag my butt off the couch, I haven't been doing much on the dating front. In fact, I've been thinking about getting some adult diapers so that I don't have to bother dragging my sorry butt to the toilet, but that'd mean going all the way to the store. As you might guess, my overall motivation for anything much beyond breathing is pretty minimal.

I did call M last night, though.

I don't know if it's a mistake to stay in contact, but I can't seem to stop myself. Going to London set off a small existential crisis for me...I realised how dissatisfied I am with my current career and locale. Mr UK brought it up a couple times while I was there, and I hate to admit it, but he's right: I'm unhappy here. I was not happy living in London, either, but London had some huge advantages. For instance, here in Ruralville, 'culture' consists of the Classic Car Show in June and Rodeo Week in August. 'Painting' is what you do to the barn. Big conversational topics include trucks, fishing, and guns. "The Gallery" is where you go for target practice. Yeah, London was way cooler, that way...

As a feminist who fixes her own car and loves reading, Arab culture, and Dali, I am something of a freak here.

I spoken to Mom and a couple of girlfriends about this. Mom tends to go the 'whatever makes you happy, dear' route, which is not helpful when I'm looking for advice. My girlfriends are great, but sometimes live vicariously through me, which means they tend to advise me to do what would make them happy.

M. understands this stuff. He's one of the few who do. He knows when to shut up and listen, too, and just let me work things out for myself in conversation. And he knows me well enough to give a pertinent, considered opinion when I do get around to asking for it.

The conversation went suprisingly well. Relationship stuff didn't come up. We were talking about 'personal' stuff, but not personal stuff pertaining to "us". He listened, made all the appropriate noises during the appropriate conversational pauses, and generally acted like he cared. Without trying to talk me into bed. I actually felt better by the time I hung up the phone.

Unfortunately, if I were to move, my first choice of cities would be the one he lives in. Which adds sooo much potential for complication. I mean, we have a hard enough time staying away from each other when we live 200km apart. Imagine if we lived in the same neighbourhood?

Anyhow, it's all academic until I put in the transfer papers, and I'm going to consider this one for awhile before making any drastic moves.

Damn him for understanding me so well, though...

Thrush...

Go figure, the sore throat of a couple of days ago has morphed into a full-on head cold, complete with hacking cough. Oral sex is NOT FUN with a sore throat and chesty cough...granted, HE'LL take the choking as a compliment, but still...

They say sex boosts your immune system. I can't imagine what sort of shape I'd be in if I weren't currently getting it three times a day.

To top it all off, I got a yeast infection. I NEVER get yeast infections, ever. Or at least most of the time, or certainly never when I'm not getting laid. Figures.

In Britian, they don't call them yeast infections.

Now, I have traveled a lot, and have effectively managed to pantomime "I need Immodium NOW' in more countries than I care to remember. I've managed it without excessive embarassment, even. Amazing what you can accomplish when you have that kind of pressing motivation.

However, I have to admit I faltered when trying to explain THIS ONE to an 80-year-old lady at Boots drugstore, especially when we theoretically speak the same language.

For the record, I'm more competent in French than British; at least in French, I know how to order a coffee with milk. That and how to ask where the washroom is. That's the extent of my French, mind you, but both of those things in British have stymied me. "Loo" and "white coffee" were not part of my vocabulary until recently.

The Boots lady was deaf, for starters, and clearly couldn't understand my accent anyway. They don't use the same terminology here as back home. She took me to the cough syrup aisle, clearly making an educated guess and not understanding a damn thing I was trying to say to her. I was afraid that I was going to have to resort to making funny faces and vigorously scratching my crotch. I wound up trying to explain, at the top of my lungs, that I had a common infection 'DOWN THERE', and knew for a fact that there is an over-the-counter remedy. If only I had been bright enough to start throwing out brand names, like 'Canesten'...

After several frustrating minutes (and attracting a small but very amused crowd), she finally caught on.

"Oh," She said with a kindly granny smile, "Why didn't you just SAY you had thrush?"

AAARRRGGGGHHHH!!!!!