I have now finished watching the Thick of It with Tilly tonight - ostensibly a celebration of having survived the disaster of the day that I organised - and it has left me in a sadder state than before. For a number of reasons. I couldn't sit next to Tilly and then she spent the evening on her laptop. She's ill, so I can't raise my concerns about sex. I mean, it's been three months since we last discussed it but I suspect she will point out the fact that this makes it all I talk about these days. Given the stress of the last week and my generally dark thoughts about my job (having an old colleague return and a new one begin, both of whom are female and both of whom are better than I will ever be, for different reasons: returnee is just bloody good and the newb is an educationalist who can name-drop and use names from cutting edge educational theory tomes) I'm not sure it would reflect well on me. Who wants to have anything to do with a bearded depressive?
O me miseram.
I am indebted to a good friend for giving me something to smile about, and using appellations that shouldn't have the power they do, but they do. Increasingly I look forward to 'Joanna-Time' - yes, I've entered that stage of my journey - online. I look forward to people offering a few more terms of endearment simply because they assume I'm female. And I lie to get those terms of endearment. I lie for that feeling. I lie for that warm glow I get from being called feminine appellations.
Tonight's beer was Greene King's IPA. But I can't bring myself to review it because it came from a can. I read a few blogs about cuckolds. I wonder if they get more from that than I get from my own relationship. Would Tilly prefer it? I mean... I'm fairly certain she gets nothing physically from me, or indeed wants anything physical to develop.
We were discussing flowers the other day, well, I brought up the fact that I found it odd that there were no images on Google of men getting flowers from women (or other men) and wondered aloud why that was. Tilly asked if it was the sort of thing men would want, expecting a negative response, and I honestly replied that I quite like roses. She laughed a bit. Said: "Are you really just sitting there waiting for flowers?"
"No, are you?"
"Well, obviously not."
"But you like it when I buy flowers for you?"
"Yes, but that's different."
And there the conversation ceased. She changed subjects. She, and our spawn, have colds at the moment so there's not a lot else going on.
Wow, way to scattergun the blog, Jo!