I hate drunk men. It's not going to make me like you more. In fact right now it's going to make me like you less. Maybe even begin to resent you, hate you, but certainly not want to have sex with you. Why would you ever think otherwise?

So what if I'd only been asleep for an hour before you called? So what that I was drunk that night too? I didn't hear the phone vibrate, I didn't wake. I didn't drunk text you either. Maybe there's something in that that you and I both need to face. I don't miss you. I don't even think of you when I should be thinking of something else.

It's a sobering thought.

I'd already made my decision. Already decided that this train is no longer accepting passengers. All the new ones should just dutifully exit all carriages now please. Next stop Seattle.

I feel bad, for thinking, for feeling the way I do. But I don't ever want to be like him. I don't ever want to make you feel that way. And it's a shame. You're so perfect in every other way. Maybe if I'd met you a year in the future, we'd be on the same page. Talk about a bad cliche - wrong time, wrong place. I wonder if you'd let me in, if I'd still be thinking the same. I hope so, for only the part of me that would allow me to crush our souls if I allowed things to continue.

I only wish I could tell you. My biggest failure. Ironic given my oath, this vow of honesty I bestowed upon myself long ago.

As if right on cue, thunder clouds pour rain apon me.

So I decided to set a test, an experiment if you will, to record people's reactions to certain aspects that occur in my life. Yesterday's test subject passed, rather spectacularly I might add. Part of me wishes he hadn't.

Me, on the other hand, failed rather miserably in all respects. I keep telling myself that I learnt something from it. Not sure if I did. Not sure if the answer I got was what I wanted either. Through all my searching, there are some things I'd rather not discover. I'm rather annoyed about that. In the words of Annabel, I am, really badly rubbish.

So I think I'm giving off pheromones. I can't explain it any other way. I mean, I was never popular in school, it never was my time. I found myself at uni and I guess since then my love life's been a constant episode of unrequited relationships, brief flings... oh and my relationship with the ex of course. At the time I thought I'd finally come into my own. Little did I realise then, what I do now.

So just as I'm begginning another chapter in the Story of Tabitha, I find myself surrounded by a flurry of guys. I know I complained before about a lack of male company, but this, this is not what I asked for. Well not entirely. Yes it's flattering, and no I'm not complaining, its just.... odd. I mean did I just flick this switch somewhere and they all came running? Am I sending out desperation vibes? 'Cause right now I'm just not feeling like that...

The Other One said I have this charm, this smile; that he doesn't doubt it will cause me trouble and bring me happiness all in abundance. I don't think I can count on his views right now. But then my dreams about Mr H only serve to make me doubt my own. This is usually the time when intuition kicks in, only when your head and heart seem to be constantly at odds with each other, it's often hard to know who to listen to.

Some of these men are just odd, some are I'm sorry, just plain ugly, and others well... I don't know. I just wish fate would come and make a decision for me so that I don't have to.

So I'm feeling a little weird right now. Confused. Happy. Mellow. Excited... There's so many new and good things happening to me right now, and yet today I feel the undercurrent of sadness running through me. I can feel it in my chest and I'm sincerely hoping it doesn't take hold of me today.

I feel like I'm getting softer as I get older. Maybe its because I understand more about life and what there is to gain or lose. I used to be such a hard nut. I was never squeamish about anything, lapping up horror movies and laughing in the face of danger. Maybe it was the bullying at school - not physical, but verbal is bad enough. Like a true cancerian I built myself a shell and protected myself from the world.

So on 08.08.08, the luckiest day in the world according to some, my new nephew was born. He entered the world thousands of miles away from me, all innocent and pure. He's the first Grandson and no doubt he will be spoiled rotten by my family whenever we visit. The following day I was told my Grandfather was in hospital. He's had many problems over the years and has been in and out of hospital on many occasions. Somehow I knew this time was different. The doctors have said he has up to six months to live. Part of me cursed my brother for emigrating out of the country. My parents were upset when he took my niece, the first grandchild, first great grandchild, out of the country. We see them through the webcam and photos but my Grandad's eyesight has almost gone, now I know he will never meet that boy. He knows us all by our voice and footsteps but little Cole will be nothing but an invisible memory, and that saddens me.

So I've been carrying on as though life is normal. Settling into the new job, still going down the local, metting up with guys for random dates. I met a great guy on friday. We really hit it off and he's cute and gave me that fuzzy feeling that I haven't felt in a while. Not even with The Other One. But today I got a call. The ex.

Why oh why does he pick these moments to call me? Anyway it was a strange conversation. One of the few times since we've split that we've had a normal decent conversation. No arguing, no shouting, no tears. We used to work together and he said he'd noticed my name was at the bottom of the company's consultants scoreboard for performance. Asked if I was still there. I gushed for ages about how I'd left and moved on and that life was much better now. I probably shouldn't have said so much but I couldn't help myself. Part of me was touched that he'd even searched for my name. Maybe a part of him still looked out for me too. I couldn't shake the feeling that he'd lost a lot of respect and credibility in his work after what he did to me.

Then he apologised. Which was amusing. I told him it wouldn't change things and that was he doing it to make himself feel better. He didn't comment. He said he had wanted to call me for a while but too much had been going on in his head. I told him that was part of the problem. Then he said he'd like to call me again, but probably wouldn't or shouldn't. Which was weird. I couldn't say that I was surprised I hadn't bumped into him at the station - I still didn't want him to know that I lived nearby and hadn't moved out of town like I'd implied before. Part of me wishes I had so that he'd know I hadn't gone because of him. After all I introduced him to this place...

And of course now his number is back in my phone. Which I wish it wasn't. I deleted it to save me from doing something stupid. And now the temptation's there and though we settled everything it still botheres me. We finally ended things on good terms - be it seven months too late - it was what I wanted and now its here... I don't know.

Thank God I'm going through my female songstress phase, or I don't think I'd have the energy to work this through...

I don't dance. Not really anyway. Which is weird considering my obsession with music. Hays told me yesterday that as women, we are unique in the fact that we are music geeks. I'd honestly never thought about it before. Music is such an integral part of my life that I'd never considered it as a male or female attribute. I'm not sure I totally believe or agree with her though. Film geeks, sci fi geeks, we're all the same, no matter our sex, race or creed.

So last night I invited a few mates round for drinks. I don't think they got the whole quiet night in with a bottle of wine idea and turned up with a crate of beer. By midnight we were dancing in the kitchen to Vampire Weekend, cans littering the table. My idea of 'dancing' normally consists of bobbing my head up and down at a gig, tapping my feet and wiggling my legs and occassionally jumping up and down. Last night I was doing my imitation of a drunken festival goer. It was fabulous.

I missed my school reunion last night. On purpose mind. Couldn't think of anything worse than going to a so-called 'club' in my home town and having to make small talk with people I no longer have anything in common with. I've kept in touch with those that I consider friends - and they are friends, some of the best - and don't understand some people's desire to reach back ten years into the past. School was school, for the most part. Just because we're older it doesn't make any difference to how we were or how we acted then. G said he'd love to go back to his to prove to himself how much he's changed. I told him I didn't see how that would help me. Yes I've changed since I was 16 and yes most of the others probably have too. They've certainly all got families and children to prove it. But that doesn't mean I need to sit and discuss what I've been doing with my life. The whole reason I left was to make something more than what that place offered me. I felt suffocated and though in the schemes of things I haven't really moved very far, my life couldn't be further away from what it was back then. I don't need to see those from the past to see how much I've changed because I already see it.

Sometimes I think they see me as this big hotshot who works in the city who is constantly on the move and never looking back. In reality I couldn't be further away from that stereotypical view that falls upon those when they think of London. In fact I think I'd be more lonely if I lived back home. And I wouldn't want them to think I deem their lives less worthy because I don't. We just took different paths at the fork in the road and somehow I don't think they'd understand that.

I could have spent last night dressed up in uncomfortable clothes, dancing in some concrete hut to terrible music and pretending I was enjoying the company of old friends. But instead I was dancing in my turreted kitchen with my weird and wacky pals to my favourite music and celebrating all the good things that have come my way. As much as I hate country music and westerns, I could have pictured myself in an old barn dance in deep south America and thought how at home I'd feel. Maybe I should dance more often...

I first met The Other One a few years ago. I was attracted to him then, and just as I was working up the courage to do something about it I found out he had just started dating someone else. I knew her - she was a lot younger than me, even more than him but despite that she seemed nice. Annoyingly nice that I couldn't even dislike her.

We both moved on. I met someone else. His relationship ended and a while after he went travelling around South America. He came back a few months after I'd split with the ex. He told me I looked like crap. And I did. The combination of work stress, stomach problems and a failed relationship had made me lose weight. No one else had noticed. Not until a few months afterwards when I was already better and had got everything under control. He said my smile still looked beautiful though. I simply invited him to my housewarming.

A drunken conversation, followed by a drunken incident a few months later. We both knew it would bubble to the surface at some point.

We had a long chat last week. I told him he had to decide. He had to choose between friendship or something more. No more bouncing between the layers of grey. He said he couldn't handle being in a relationship right now. Friendship it was. I was so relieved I was almost happy about it. I felt free. The summer soundtrack was turned up to full volume and the sun had come out. I practically skipped to work the following morning.

Last night however was a different story. He made me cry myself to sleep. And not because he said anything bad or wrong. More the opposite. Without knowing it, he gave me the greatest birthday present ever and I made the mistake of thanking him for it. I'm actually glad, relieved somewhat, that he was oblivious to the whole thing. Truth was he restored my faith, not in men, but in the selflessness of others. He was so intent on making sure I had a good time that night. It was all about me and no one else. Made me feel like I'd been constantly giving for long time, and had so little receiving.

Maybe it all hit me last night, I don't know. I'd felt like I needed a hug all day, and had no one to give me one. I'm not one for overt affection. I rarely hug my friends, and when I do its to comfort or congratulate them, and it's always a little awkward. To ask them for one would have just been weird.

I told him I missed him last night. Asked if it was okay to say that, after everything, after all we were friends before, and above all else. He said he couldn't be trusted around me anymore.

I've never been in such a flux before. To love someone, to know they feel the same, and yet to consciously do nothing about it. I know that if we were to have a relationship right now it would be wrong. Knowing each other's history, knowing all that baggage, and where we are now. We would destroy each other. I've never felt so strongly about anything. And yet part of me feels like I'm in mourning.

So I cried silent tears last night, for the things he taught me. For the things he won't teach me. Never thought it was possible to miss something you've never had, before.

I just hope I don't end up here again in another few years.

So I was explaining to my friend the other day about the book I'm reading. It's a crime novel, like the normal sort of genre I read, yet this one is really quite dark. It's told from the point of view of a young boy who finds a victim of a child serial killer, and how that and other events that occur shape his life. Sometimes it feels too troubled for me to read. Like I'm dippping into someone's mind who's slightly off kilter but through no fault of his own. Sometimes there are words or phrases that really hit home to me. That no matter where or what period of time this novel is set, what it is saying is somehow relevent to my viewpoint on the world right now.

I've never been affected by a book like this before. I've been engrossed, I've been infatuated. I've felt connected to other people through their writing and somehow been relieved. Good or bad, you're not the only one thing think these things, feel these things and it makes you feel less alone. But I've never wanted to see how something ends so badly and yet be too afraid to pick it up to find out.

My friend said she hated books that tell you how a person is thinking. That she has enough problems of her own to get too absorbed in someone else's. I know that sometimes, it is unhealthy.

I've known a few people in my time who've suffered from mental illnesses. Depression, manic depression, mental breakdowns. It still amazes me how others surrounding the victims never talk about it, as though its a secret told only in whispers. It happened to a school friend when I was 17 and no one ever told us anything. We kept in touch even through the dark times, but I never knew her after that, not really. And like the others I've met since, we rarely speak anymore.

In every person since then, I can see it when I meet others the same. Like a vaccine detecting a virus. Alarm bells go off and you treat them differently to others in order to protect yourself.

I heard a theory once, how all were born innocent. That evil is like a virus you can catch when you're vulnerable. Then one day a stresser - a broken relationship, a death, unemployment - can make you susceptible to this evil and allow a good person to change. My innocent friend doesn't always understand how such evil can exist in the world, how some people can do the things they do. Sometimes I agree. Sometimes I will say that although I don't accept it, I can sometimes understand it - how certain people can do things so unforgivable and yet still have a reason behind it. No matter how little sense it makes or what trivial reasons. She will look at me and ask how I know such things. I merely tell her that it's the ones without rhyme or reason that we have to worry about.

She doesn't watch horror films with me anymore...

I just loved July 2008. Awesome month. Full of too many good things for one month in my opinion. I mean I'm normally someone who likes to spread things out. Too much excitement in one go normally tilts me off my axis and I lose touch with myself and reality. Some spontaneity, on the other hand, is often what I need and I've learnt through my month of strangeness that it can often allow many rewards to spring my way. Ironic that it's also produced the weirdest and longest indepth analysis of myself.

So despite some of the things I've endured, the bad possibles and even worse male friends, I find myself craving more. I decided that I would try to tame myself in certain areas, get myself back on track. But maybe I don't need to. Maybe this really is the new me, and I've changed too much already to turn back. I'm feeling like I should embrace it. This is the year of change afterall...

I was floating on cloud nine when I jumped off the train and headed up the hill home. My latest new cd was on play - my perfect summer tracks. In the perfect mood to celebrate, have a few drinks and slope off home after dark. Something happened in the transition between food and tv. I became tired and restless. And now after enjoying a quiet night in relaxing I feel deflated.

After everything that's happened this week, my mind seems to have shut down parts of itself. And yet he still creeps into my mind unwanted. I don't miss him. Stopped loving him the minute I woke up to the truth. If I let it, the anger can flare inside, but I don't like to indulge in that. I gave The Other One a piece of advice yesterday and felt like I was talking to myself.

Don't let the past ruin the future.

I could have done with a drink with Buddy.

So I've been reading and writing a lot recently. Because it's been nice weather, I've taken to strolling down to the river, sitting on a bench and reading my book. Which has been good as it means I've finally got more than a quarter of a way through, and I'm no longer as white as a lump of snow.

Starting to think that its not good for me right now. I think too much and all these random thoughts going round in my head aren't being helped much by that. I'm going to be busy next week though. And tired. So we'll see.