Bridesmaid revisited.

My cousin L and her live-in boyfriend have finally gotten engaged, after three years together. Woo! She's the first one out of my immediate family (I don't have brothers or sisters, so cousins count as immediate) to get hitched, so I'm ridiculously excited - we haven't had a big (read: drunken) family wedding since my cousins-once-removed got married in the nineties. The way I've phrased that makes it sound like my cousins-once-removed married each other; actually I have three c-o-r's, and none of them intermarried, thank you very much.

Anyway, I assumed L would ask her two sisters to be bridesmaids, which she did. But she also asked me! I'm going to be a bridesmaid!

I've been a bridesmaid twice before, for two of my cousins on my dad's side of the family - the first time I was 5 and the second time I was 9. So this is my first time as a grown-up, and as far as I understand, being an adult bridesmaid means you're almost obliged to get off with the best man, or at least one of the groomsmen. That's one of the reasons I agreed to do it, but now I've thought about it, I'm not so sure.

If the groom asks his brother to be best man, he's definitely not my type, not that that matters since he's also married. If he asks his best friend to be best man, he's definitely my type but lives with his long term girlfriend. Arse. Still, I might get to dance with him - right now that'd do for me, I haven't been within groping distance of a man since my birthday. It's been an appropriate amount of time since the abortion, I'm ready to get under someone again. Foetus's Father has disappeared for good it seems, not that I'd want to go out with him again - it'd just give me bad feelings, I think. Like guilt, I hate that. The guy I was seeing at the same time as FF is keeping me dangling: "when my exams are over, I'll make it up to you". Yeah, we'll see. Ex Who I'm Still Not Over has a new girlfriend - she's his flatmate, they met when he moved in. By rights it shouldn't last, but knowing my luck they'll end up getting married. I feel like I prime men for a long term relationship. Women should hire me to date the man they want to marry, once he breaks up with me he'll be actively looking for someone to commit to.

Oh well, I'm meeting up with my best friend from primary school in town this Saturday night. I haven't seen her in years, so that'll be fun, and as an added bonus maybe I'll get to do some flirting. Everyone cross your fingers.

We're going to the zoo...how about you?

I spent today at the zoo with a 4 year old, a 3 year old and a 2 year old.

Here's something I didn't know about kids before now: they like to run away from you. And if you chase them, they just run faster.

These kids were absolutely adorable though (they're my mum's best friend's step-grandchildren, I was roped in to lend an extra pair of hands on the trip) and despite the fact that none of them had ever laid eyes on me before, they were all perfectly willing to hold my hand and tell me about their favourite animals and listen to me when I shrieked "stop!!!!!" from five miles behind them as they were about to vault over the fence into the penguin enclosure. Not that penguins would do a lot of damage, but it's the principle of the thing.

It's a weird feeling when a kid launches themselves into your arms for a hug. At least it is for me, since I don't know any children and the last time I spent the day with a 4 year old was when I was 4 myself. These tiny little people are so trusting and so vulnerable and just make you feel so protective. I realised that to them, I'm an adult. I spend most of my time wondering when the grown-up gene is going to kick in and I'm going to stop feeling like an irresponsible 18 year old, and today gave me a lot to think about.

I read somewhere that alcoholics emotionally halt at the age at which they started really drinking. For me, that age was 18. Now, I'm not ready to link a to b just yet (that would mean actually confronting the issue, shock horror) but bells are ringing, know what I mean?

I'm fucking knackered though. Further proof that I couldn't have had that baby.

I was just

watching an episode from the first season of ANTM where the girls go to Paris, and it reminded me of a morning my ex and I spent in bed, communicating solely in French. I had got my GCSE French about four years earlier and had forgotten most of it about 6 months after that, and I'm not sure he'd even got to GCSE stage, so the conversation wasn't exactly coherent. But it was one of those stupid giggly things you do when you're in love. I want to cry thinking about it.

I'm having a supremely bad day.

First of all, I woke up hungover. Unsurprising since I was supping vodka like a Russian last night, but that's never the best way to kick things off.

The main cause of my pissed-off-ness is a letter from my uni department saying that due to the layout of the course, I can't resume my training until January. I was expecting to go back in September - my personal tutor TOLD me I could go back in September - and now they decide to put me back until next year. I am HACKED OFF. What the fuck am I going to do until January? I've got rent to pay starting in September!

I'm going to have to get a job.

I don't like having a job. I am possibly the laziest person you could ever meet - I don't like to get up before 10:30 at the earliest, and there aren't many jobs that let you come in at noon and leave at 3. I really can't understand people who always have to be working and who can't just relax and do nothing - doing nothing is what I do best. My mother is always bugging me to get a job in the university holidays, and can't seem to understand that I have no desire to work - I'll be working until I'm at least 65 (by that stage it'll probably be 70 or even older) so for the time being, if I don't have to work, I won't. Being in a work environment, trying to meet standards and get on with other people, stresses me out like nothing else.

I realise that if you don't work, you don't have money, and that's fine - I don't expect to be handed things on a plate. I'm fine with living on the breadline; a wage doesn't balance out the stress of work, for me (and yes, I am aware that I'm a bit socially retarded). In summary, I am a lazy bitch.

But this time I don't have much of a choice. Bugger.

I've just remembered

I went to see a clairvoyant about a year ago, and he said he could see a baby in my life in the next twelve months. Now, I'm the first to call bullshit when it comes to the supernatural, but that's kind of spooky. Of course, it's possible that his words were in the back of my mind when I came off the Pill and I was subconsciously daring the universe to prove him right.

He also said I'd get involved with a man from Yorkshire. I thought that was the guy I met a few months ago, who I was head over heels about, but then he swanned off to Morocco and met some other girl, so I guess it's not him. I'm inclined to take that as proof that psychics are pulling it all out of their arses, but rationally I know that's only because I liked him so much and he found someone better. That's not evidence against the psychic community, that's just a bitter women pining over what could've been.

Every so often

I get a mad urge to text the ex-father of my aborted foetus and tell him everything. But what good would it do? None whatsoever...I think I just want to see what his reaction would be. It's probably because I've carried this knowledge by myself for the past 9 weeks or so - the need to tell someone, anyone, is growing, and he's the obvious candidate. But deep down I know I never will. It's between me and my uterus.

As of today

the post below is no longer accurate. Keeping it was never an option, and luckily I didn't get any maternal feelings at all in my 8 weeks of being up the duff. It never once felt like a baby in there - still doesn't, it was a cluster of cells and now it's nothing. I have no regrets whatsoever.

I've kept it all secret though. Couldn't tell my ultra-Catholic mother obviously, and I found I just didn't want to tell anyone else. I much prefer to deal with things myself, with minimum fuss, and while that isn't always the right decision, it definitely was in this case. I just drove myself to the clinic, had it done, and drove home.

I want to have kids someday, but now is not the right time. I have no money, no job, not in a relationship with the father, and I live between my parents' and student accommodation. Once I've finished my course, graduated and got a job, then it'll be time to start breeding. It wouldn't be fair to bring a child into the world in these circumstances.

That last paragraph sounds like I'm trying to justify my decision. In fact, I feel no need to justify it whatsoever, because I know 100% it was the right thing for me.

I will say this - thank Christ for the NHS. I don't know how people in the US cope; there's no way I could've found £250 to get this done. Not to mention countries where abortion isn't legal - there were 5 women in the recovery room with me, and 4 of them were Irish. It was bad enough having to drive 30 miles home afterwards, imagine having to get on a plane or (heaven forbid) a ferry. I've always supported abortion rights in an abstract kind of way, but now it's top of my list. I have a lot to be thankful for.