S.A.D. sad season
10 december

While I try to look on the bright side, find the silver lining, notice the color purple- this week knocked my half full glass all over.

How it started: Last weekend I unwittingly sat in the crossfire of two boyfriends, and later on became the topic in a major row between them. Not their first fight from what I hear, but I should have known better than to flirt with a philanderer with a jealous boyfriend, especially when I didn't even realize that the boyfriend was sitting directly across from me. What's worse is that I think the boyfriend is way hot and more interesting than the flirt, but he's just as unavailable.

This is not the first time something like this has happened to me but even more pathetic, I've already gotten between (literally) two boyfriends since arriving in London. Obviously I don't retain certain lessons. Now I'm considering making a "no substitute for boyfriend" t-shirt and wearing it out.

Been getting stood up left and right, making me think I'd fallen into a worm hole and landed back in Los Angeles. That is, until my hat blows off in the gale force winds whipping rain into my face. And this is more than just the "saw your ad... I'll call you later" flakiness I get every single day.

I've been trying to get to know one of my fellow workers better, but he's acting strange around me. We met up for pizza with a friend of his and another co-worker I had just met a couple hours earlier, a moderator of one of the lists I belong to (and quite a gentleman).

But I can't read the guy I'm interested in. He's keeping me at a distance, and it's probably for the best. Some of the things he says to me I think are inappropriate, even if they are in jest, and even if there is a language issue.

We had planned a week prior to go together to a club I really enjoy, and head there after pizza, but as we were heading for the tube station he decided to take his friend somewhere else. He said he'd call for drinks the next night and didn't. I am now considering making "beware beauty" micro LED's and having one implanted under each eyelid.

Also, another friend was to meet me at the club, confirming the same day, but never showed either. And the DJ who said he was going to put me on the guest list forgot. The music wasn't as much fun as the last time I was there, but I danced anyway.

And on one of the few occasions when I stopped, a bold man not of my type walked up, made a couple compliments, I said thank you, then he proceeded to kiss me on the lips and grab my ass. I said thanks, but I'm not in that frame of mind. He said he respected that and continued trying to stick his tongue in my mouth and grabbed my ass again. I excused myself and ran off to another section.

A strange, drunk punter of advanced age fish eyed me as I left the club, and was soon following me. Letting him catch up, I was ready to say "make me an offer" as soon as the conversation went anywhere near my penis, but all he could do was comment on the cold. I felt I should at least walk him part way home so he wouldn't get jumped. I then did what any sensible but stoic person possessing a smidgen of talent would do when looking over the railing into Depression: composed a little dirge- catch it ! on the Top of the Pops.

Trying to get anywhere in London right now is a nightmare. Buses are few and far between, often overcrowded so that when the one you want finally arrives the conductor won't let you board. When they do they are surly fucks, not letting people off, skipping stops- the result of having to deal with screaming riders all day, it's a very non-festive snowball effect.

The streets near Oxford and Tottenham Court Road are jam packed with fog-brained paranoid pot smokers, piss drunk barking yuppies, loopy lost theatre patrons, and dodgy-looking scruffy men in dirty clothes. Add to this bag laden Xmas shopping tourists imitating Lott's wife, and you can see why people suffer from sidewalk rage. When I noticed myself getting hostile, I had to stop and talk myself down. That worm hole to LA...

But I have a session scheduled today. He called yesterday to make an appointment for today, and requested that I meet him at a tube station. He called this morning to confirm our one o'clock appointment. I cut my work-out short so I could be on time.

I get there seven minutes late, but see no one matching his description. I wait for twenty minutes more. Nobody. I call his cell phone, no answer. I call the cell again, get a strange beeping sound. Head home vowing never to meet anyone at the tube.

About five minutes later my cell rings, I can tell by the number that it's a land line. It's my client, he's at King's Cross, two stops away, and will be there in ten minutes. I'm quite pissed off at this point but agree to meet him back at the station but will only wait ten minutes.

On a hunch, as I head for the station, I decide to look at the last number called. I am about to dial it when I approach a pay phone, the same one I fished a ten pence out for someone a week ago, and see that the number on the payphone matches the last number made to my cell. The client is not on his way from King's Cross, he is somewhere nearby.

Flames could be shooting out my ears at this point, I go into the station, and recognize one man who had been waiting around the first time I was there. I walk up behind him and stand about a foot away.

And then I leave the station. I don't say anything to him, don't look at him, don't call his cell phone. My rule in this type of situation: don't engage, don't enrage. I just head home, turning around once in awhile to see if I am being followed.

What defines London for me right now: Coldplay's "Trouble", traffic, the midway in Leicester Square, Earl's Court, Gloucester Road, Elvis Presley's 'Blue Christmas', Denise van Outen, William Hague

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