I've written this blog three times now, the first was the stupid computer's fault, and the second was because I just ranted on for about four A4 pages, and I realised people would stop reading after the first few lines. Doesn't make for repeat readers, let me tell you.
Anyway, this weekend I have been mostly eating far too much chocolate and writing about exotic, and not so exotic places, whilst dreaming about my own upcoming jollies to slighty exotic places. The eating chocolate thing proves that I have a serious problem with moderation, i.e. I don't know the meaning of it. Diet starts tomorrow. Or maybe the day after.
The worrying thing about it being April is not the rain, although that's not compatible with good hair, but that it's only a month to go until the sinking feeling will return. I've got a slight sink going on already, it's building up to be a shocker, I can tell. But no, next month the desperate want to jump on a plane and head east will begin again. It's hideous, I'm trying to sort myself out, not get into more trouble, arrgh! The only person's finances that are going to be looking up at this rate, are Travel Republic's - certainly not mine. Roll on a couple of years when I don't have this trauma because I'll already be there.
Phew. Deep breath.
Anyway, the whole imposter at large thing seems to be sorted, I think anyway. For all I know I could have an evil triplet by now, but to be honest, by summer there'll probably be an army of imposters causing havoc that I won't know about, so why worry? I guess the ones that matter know the truth, and that's all that counts.
Further evidence (god, I really do sound like Poirot now) has come to light, pretty much confirming in my mind who's behind it. Lordy lordy me, it's a sad state of affairs.
What I affectionately refer to as silly season has begun. This is where any female with Turkish/Kurdish friends on Facebook suddenly gets an influx of randomers 'poking' them. Why, oh why? Well I can only assume that in the mind of these randomers, 'poking' tourists will of course lead them to visit said poker during season, and as if by magic, bam! There's that week's girlfriend. I've become bitter and twisted over winter, can you tell?
I blame the boy.
I still blame him for most things.
I also blame him for the nasty irritation in the pit of my stomach on the realisation that now silly season is upon us, he'll be unleashed on the female visiting population of Marmaris again and I'll be forgotten. But then I probably have been already, so what's the point in thinking about it?
Because I'm not as heartless as him, that's why. Grrrr, it must be nice to have an on-off switch like that.
But hey, it's my challenge to get over that thought, let's face it, it's gonna happen, if it's not already.
So that leads me seamlessly (anyone would think I'd been writing articles) onto the weekly disasterous love life update.
In short - still disasterous, yet slightly more humourous.
When I'm not battling my Kurdish demons and memories, I'm batting off overly amourous advances from randoms - one wanting me to help him practice, and I quote, "tantric massage". I kid you not. He even offered to reimburse my travel costs. Do these people have no shame?! And before you ask, no I did not take him up on his offer!
The stalker is still at it. Clearly not at all lacking in confidence, because rejection doesn't seem to bother him in the slightest, and the excuse of not having a mobile phone for him to call me on is still working. Come on dude, open your eyes, who doesn't have a mobile these days?!
I'm reading a book at the moment, total chick-lit but quite good, called The Dating Detox. It's about this girl who's so sick of all the crap that goes along with dating, so she calls time on it and goes cold turkey. Is it wrong that when I typed that, I automatically put a capital letter in front of Turkey as if the country is all I would ever be typing about? Sweet baby Jesus, I need to go somewhere else.
Anyway, back on topic, when she decides she's not available, all manner of opportunities come her way, but she realises that she's happier without a man, without any of the drama, washing-machine stomach of anxiety and worry that comes with dating. I think she might be onto something, and maybe that explains why the more you say 'no', the more it becomes a challenge to make you say 'yes'. Not gonna happen mate, not gonna happen.
So I might try this, I mean I'm not going to admit it's an enforced detox, because hey if I wanted to there's always ..... erm ....the stalker ....
But that's my thing now, I'm detoxing my life of randomers, pokers, tantric masseurs and people trying to clone me on Facebook.
Surely these things don't happen to normal people?!