The Compostual Existentialist

Wordpress flavour with added crunchy bits

David Owen

Leave a comment

One of the things that has been a bit of a bummer about moving to Yorkshire is the lack of non-wife interactivity.

With the exceptions of the occasional meeting up with aladdin_sane, the brief encounter with the lovely zoefruitcake and the occasional visit to and from people from out of town (ie Nick and jimrock) my social life is none existent at the moment. This has its plus sides.

– I don’t piss as much money up the wall as I used to
– I can get some World of Warcrafting done
– I get to spend quality time with Mrs Gnomepants
– I get things done to the house

It also has its down sides

– Ideas dry up
– I am unable to discuss issues with independent parties
– I get into mischief
– Mrs Gnomepants and I have more disagreements

As it happens, Jill, the wife’s soon-to-be-ex-boss’-soon-to-be-ex-wife, came for tea last night (Mrs G concocted a mince and onion in some sort of stock thing which she decided was unpalatable and I managed to save by changing it into a kind of gravy minced beef thing, only to be told “I don’t want any of that” and 2lb of mince had to be disposed of in a recognised place of refuse). Jill is at that stage of relationship breakdown where going out and getting absolutely shit faced is the only remedy to fast head and post-relationship blues and, as a result of which, suggested to Mrs G that they go out and get trollied in Wakefield tonight. Consequently, the wife has also been suffering from a dearth of a social life (opting to spend time with her sisters (like some weird Brönte/Brady bunch hybrid) and moan at me when I actually manage to arrange some time out with non-relations) so when I heard of the suggestion I urged Mrs G to go out as I know it will do her good.

Therefore the wife goes out tonight. With non-relatives.

Me? Well I’ve got nothing on (well..I am fully clothed. When I say nothing on I mean there is no social event in my calendar). My address book is filled with people who live more than 70 miles away, people I only know virtually and the milkman. Its not through the lack of want or trying. I sat myself in the Three Horseshoes on many occasions before Christmas, I’ve prodded and poked those males I am familiar with locally (oi! Not that way you mucky buggers), I’ve trawled chat rooms and forums in the effort to make new acquaintances, my brief stint at using volunteering as a way to meet new people and attempting to arrange nights out with work colleagues fizzled away because I am overly fussy about who it is I socialise with. In a way I am hoping that returning to education in the next year will provide a suitable environment to make new friendships flourish and grow. However thats some way off yet.

I suppose I am just envious of Mrs G having a night out. I really should cherish the time alone and get Ecth up to level 40 or something. However, it is also pay day and I want to go out and socialise.

Advertisements

Author: stegzy

Once, long ago, I wrote frequently on Livejournal. I then moved to Blogspot, where I discovered that blogging requires an audience. So I moved back to LJ. Then over to Dreamwidth, back to LJ, up the road of self hosting with Muckybadger before giving up entirely and moving over to Wordpress. It was at that moment I decided I would spread my compostual nonsense simultaneously across the blogosphere like some rancid margarine. And so here I am. I am a badger. But then I'm not really a badger. I am a human. With badger like tendencies. I am a writer, a film producer and a social commentator. I am available for Breakfast TV shows, documentaries and chats in the pub with journalists.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s