Wednesday, 28 September 2011

In which I explain my absence

It was something the lovely Jo put her finger on a while ago that I’ve found to be startlingly true of late: happiness is a bitch for the creativity.

When you’re mired in the mud of an unhappy living situation, a crappy job or a dating life so full of woe you’re thinking about quitting the scene to volunteer at the Cats’ Protection, it’s remarkably easy to write ream after ream bemoaning your situation. You’re in demand at dinner parties where your tales of dating guys who turned out to be gay go down well with the smug nearly-marrieds, and you can be relied upon for tales of housemate despair that make other people feel better about their lives.

But then you buy a place and live in it by yourself, and you find a job that – whilst driving you up the wall on an hourly basis – is demanding and rewarding, and you have fewer things to bitch about. Thankfully, men who’re willing to take you to Strada on first dates provide enough fodder to keep your place safe on the dinner party circuit.

But then you meet someone. And that someone makes you happy on a scale that, were you to hear it from anyone else, would make you feel violently nauseous. And suddenly you don’t have tales of dates so terrible that you idling start Googling the local convents. You don’t have any complaints to make because the nauseating happiness is all-pervasive.

Bad dates with worse men were the reason I started blogging, all those years ago. They’ve been the lifeblood of this blog and its predecessor, with a few tales of crazy housemates and general things that rile thrown in for good measure.

Bad dates these days are… well, nonexistent. My first date with The Writer lasted three days, and was so bafflingly perfect that I’m still not convinced I wasn’t, unbeknownst to myself, playing a part in a covert Richard Curtis film (one day, I’ll let you in on it, when I’m more certain it actually happened). And things have gone from great to better.

So the anguish of dating has disappeared, and with it, so has the creative inspiration. Cosy dinners and incidents of missed tube stops because you’re just too engrossed in conversation don’t provoke the angst that makes for ranty writing, and I doubt it’d make for particularly engrossing reading.

Hence the quiet on this particular front. I am still here. I’m just happy.


Please Don't Eat With Your Mouth Open said...

Bout time too, I say. The bad dates have got to stop at some point. Or er, in my case start, then finish. *gulp*

I don't mind when people stop blogging because they're happy. I only mind when it's because they got offered a book deal and now every post is "HI, BUY MY BOOK, THANKS, SO BUSY!"

teesampersandcees said...

Ha @pleasedonteat so true!

lenmarsh said...

I for one am delighted you're so happy! As Jo says, the bad dates have got to come to an end at some point... Although am literally GAGGING to hear about the three day date. xx

Jack The Lad said...

Glad to hear that you've found happiness with your chap.
Maybe's you should change the name of your Blog.
"With the Best Judgement" maybe.
Or you could just post piccies of Colin as a filler till you find something else to write about.

I have been following your blog for the last 5 years maybe, and it was the quality of the writing that that drew me in, and the fact that you we're living in my part of the world The Burgh as you term it. I'm sure you can still comment on stuff, maybe just not so frequently?

Amy said...

I agree with Jack The Lad. Some Colin photos as filler would be right up my street.

But seriously, enjoy being happy. The blog can wait. We'll all wait.

Blonde said...

PDEWYMO: Ah, chance would be a fine thing. With you on the stoppage of bad dates though...

Len: Too kind, love. Thank you. And... er... ok then. If you promise not to vomit.

JtL: Very kind. I don't think you've got rid of me entirely, I'm afraid. Just, as you say, a little less frequent.

Amy: You know, I've never posted cat pics as I don't want to be the girl who lives by herself and blogs about the cat... But if that's what you're after, who am I to say no?!

swashbuckled said...

This is all generally lovely and nice to hear. But my 'takeaway' from it was that men who take women to chain restaurants on first dates (or bad restaurants? Or just Strada? Strada is a bad place?) - they become dinner party fodder.

I'm imagining: "He took you WHERE, darling?! Strada? Oh my, how positively beastly for you. I hope you slapped him around the face and marched off as soon as he suggested it? Frightful sounding man."

Terrifying stuff. One false move.

pinkjellybaby said...

While I am firmly in the Cat's Protection League category of sad single women, posts like this give me just that little bit of hope. Enough to not completely write off finding someone to be happy with.

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