A 24-hour lunatic

My Life | April 27, 2017 | By

Just how bonkers can one person be in 24 hours? The answer, when referring to me, is a fck load.

The morning time

Firstly, it’s amazing the kinds of things you can accomplish on a tube ride from North London to the West End. I’d been texting an ex of mine from when I was like 20. It will come as little surprise to find out he’s a footballer. I mean, Google ‘LostItGirl footballer’ and you’ll get a good 256 blogs on my experience with footballers. The most recent one from a few months ago I didn’t know was a footballer because I’d met him twice in a club. But had I have known, I’d have run. Instead, he did.

This one from when I was 20 was actually not a total prick.

He’d been messaging me on Sunday night and I was out and totally drunk and having a great night so I wasn’t really interested in his message, but I replied the next morning when I got on the tube and it went from 0-100 real quick. It ended with him planning to come round that night. I said I had my boxing class then I was going for dinner with my skinny boxing mate, Sabby. So I told him come for 10pm.

Then I got off the tube and continued with my day.

Early evening time

I have my boxing class. My friend Sabby thinks the boxing instructor is hot, and I quite like his mate. We’ve been boxing since January; I totally love it as a twice-weekly way to keep fit. But I also totally love this dude in the class. However, my God it’s a long ting. It’s gone from a mumbled ‘hi’, to ‘how are you?’, to ‘how is your day?’. It’s just a load of boring shit.

I feel sometimes as though I should pin this dude against the wall and say: “Can we cut the small talk here? I’m wearing Lycra and we make sex noises when we box. I think we all know how this story is meant to end.”

But clearly he doesn’t, and he most likely never shall.

I eventually decided to ask the guy his name last week.  He told me (his name is hilarious by the way). Let’s call him Trojan. He didn’t ask me what mine was.

But, now I had the name I decided to get my friends on the stalking case (I never stalk for myself, I have people to get this information for me) but they failed. I was told I needed his last name, and so that’s what I attempted.

Here’s a bit how that conversation went:

LIG: “Hey.”

Trojan: “Hey. Good week?”

LIG: “It’s Monday.”

Trojan: “Good day?”

LIG: “I’m hungover.”

Trojan: “On a Monday?”

LIG: “What’s your last name?”

Trojan: **Says last name** “Why?”

LIG: “So I can stalk you on social media. Is that weird?”

Trojan: “Yes.”

LIG: “Oh well.”

And that’s how that went. I knew my behaviour would not be considered by him to be normal, but I couldn’t care. I noticed he didn’t ask me a single thing.

After class, Sabby and I went for dinner. She had a quick look for him on social media and found nothing.

I was like: “You know what? The only way we can hook up with these guys is if I add the boxing instructor on Instagram.”

The instructor had never ever given us his name, but we had already asked at the gym quite some time ago.

And so, fully out of the blue as a complete stranger, I went ahead and added a complete stranger on Instagram on his PRIVATE account.

I knew my behaviour would not be considered by him to be normal, but I couldn’t care. I actually said, “This is going to look completely psychopathic to him,” before swiftly pressing the request friend button. And then off I went home to get ready for my 10pm visitor.

Evening time

I went home, showered and then chilled out with some drinks to await my ex the footballer. At 10:30pm, nothing. Well that was obvious. So the following transcript happened. Please notice times of texts:

It got to 12:23am, and I asked: “Are you lost?”

He replied that he was and apologised, promising he shouldn’t be too long.

So I drank more and talked to all my contacts on WhatsApp about all sorts of stuff like: “Why would someone watch a WhatsApp story?”

At 1.23am, I sent: “Dude wtf?”

But I actually had just taken half a Xanax so I wasn’t particularly bothered. I was just bored.

Early morning time

It was 1:55am when this douche bag eventually turned up. 10pm really meant 2am. Had I not had half a Xanax and half my drinks cabinet, I’d have told him to forget it. And in truth I was contemplating it.

But then he arrived and apologised because he didn’t know I worked the following day. See what I mean about footballers? Fine, the truth is I do only work for three hours a day. But it’s still work.

Then he told me how obsessed with me he was when I was younger. And I told him I didn’t even know his name, just his last name.

Then he told me how great I looked and how I hadn’t changed since I was 20, and I told him he looked a lot older.

Then I listened to some boring football shit about how he can’t play for another year because he’s in a contract, and I told him what a great success I am.

Then we fell asleep because by now it was 5am.

I’d say that was a pretty successful 24 hours. I’ve petrified two strangers in my boxing class and I stayed up until 2am keenly waiting for my ex who’s also an ex-footballer.

People would say it’s not normal, but actually, it’s normal for me…

Also, I woke to find the boxing instructor had accepted my request and liked six of my pictures. It’s whatever.



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