Vanity and Vodka

I have been ridiculously busy with work and haven't been able to post anything for a while now.
So a little catch-up...

I haven't seen Jason since he showed up at my doorstep, thank fuck.

My friend Sarah has now started seeing a man she met at a coffee shop. They met in a way that you would find so cheesy, but that deep down you would actually think was pretty cute. Basically Sarah went into her local Starbucks to get her morning coffee, waited for it to be made, grabbed it in a rush and practically ran out of the store. (She was late for work. Again.) But then she heard this man calling after her, saying something like, 'Miss, you've taken my coffee!' Sarah was in no mood for some smarmy bastard to accuse her of something like this, so while she turned around she began to yell, 'You know what! How about I come over and shove this coffee up... ' But then she saw this smarmy bastard's face, and he was one of the most beautiful men she had ever seen. 'How about I come over there and get you a new one?', she corrected herself. As it turned out, his name was Bill, it was his coffee, and they have been seeing eachother regularly, mostly in bed, for about a week.

As happy as I am for her, I'm starting to fear that I'm becoming a frigid nun. It's not that I'm frigid out of choice, but I have literally had no time to meet any available men. I've been spending all my time planning this event for work, where we're showcasing all of these new, up-and-coming London designers that most people don't know, but really should. It's going to be fabulous, and being an editor for the magazine running the event, I've been pretty much dating my work right now.

Oh the joys of life... 

So guess who shows up on my doorstep today? My bastard ex-boyfriend Jason. (For those of you who don't know, i caught Jason banging some bitch from the bakery on our holiday in France). He even had the audacity to show up with roses - it was pathetic. Luckily I was getting ready for a night out, so I was looking pretty good. I was wearing a short, tight-fitting black dress with a zip up the front, with my new, black Karen Millen over-the-knee boots. All I'm saying is that if I was Jason, I would have felt like an utter fuckwit for breaking up with me. This is pretty much how the conversation went:
Jason: Wow Teresa, you look amazing.
Teresa: ...
Jason: I just really need to talk to you.
Teresa: ... (The longer I put off speaking, the more he started to sweat. It was fantastic.)
Jason: Look Teresa. I am so, completely and genuinely sorry for what happened in France. I really don't know what came over me. I think I just became scared that I was starting to feel too much for you, and I fucked up. I just really hope you can forgive me. I love you so much - I never stopped loving you.
Teresa: Jason, that's just amazing...
Jason: I'm so glad you feel the same! So can we just put this behind -
Teresa: It's amazing that you can even knock on my door, especially after all the pain I have considered causing you, mostly revolving around your penis. It's amazing that you think that after I've seen you screwing another girl, I will still happily let you screw me. And what's most amazing is that, taking into account your shit personality and average looks, I would even have given you a second change. So au revoir, man-whore.

Then I slammed the door in Jason's face. It was pretty empowering if I'm honest, but that doesn't mean that I would ever like to experience it again.
Anyway, I'm about to meet some friends for a night out. I'm going to erase Jason from my memory, even if this requires doube-shots of absinthe...

I feel so healthy and virtuous right now, it’s ridiculous. I’ve been going to the gym everyday and working out until I’m drowning in my own sweat (I know, it’s sexy right?) and I’ve been eating like a saint. They should really call me Jesus Hunt. But this kind of sounds like people are hunting Jesus. Okay maybe just stick with Teresa Hunt. I have to admit I’ve allowed myself a glass of wine after work and the gym, but apparently it keeps the doctor away. So I say, screw the apples! Bring on the vino…

 

I just met up with Sarah for dinner tonight. She’s just ended yet another unsuccessful fling with a singer from some unknown ‘indie’ band, who left her to ‘go find his inner voice’ or some shit like that. There’s a pretty high chance that he’s become a monk… I love the girl, but she really can’t choose men that are good for her. Anyway, her rant went something like this:

 

“Seriously Teresa, I’m sick of all these fucking guys in London. One minute they’re in you, and the next they’re all; ‘I’m just not ready for a relationship’! It’s not as if I’ve even mentioned a relationship or any form of commitment – ever! But apparently wanting to get a coffee with a guy you’re shagging is just too much!”

 

I do agree with her to an extent- there are too many commitment-phobes in London. Not that I’m complaining! I like the fact that I can have no-strings-attached sex, knowing that there truly are and never will be any ‘strings attached’. But sometimes it is nice for that guy to call you and say; “Get your sexy arse over here. I’m making you dinner.”

 

Hmm I don’t know, guys are just so goddamn confusing. But I guess we are too…it’s just a perfect match, isn’t it?

Worst. Hangover. Ever.

So I woke up today with a pounding headache and that horrible dry mouth that you get after a ridiculously excessive amount of alcohol. Then I rolled over to the sight of an incredibly attractive stranger in my bed. What can I say, I'm I classy lady! Then my whole drunken night came back to me...

Well it started with innocent cocktails at my house. My friends Amy, Simon, John and Sarah came over. I've been friends with Amy since I was a kid, and we're both living in London now which is a great coincidence. She's been with her boyfriend for 3 years now, and they're practically engaged. Although it's adorable and a miracle that two people can be so in love, when you're single it kind of makes you want to vomit in your mouth. My friend Simon is as gay as all the guys from Queer Eye for a Straight Guy - combined. He apparently doesn't believe in monogomous relationships, but I'm pretty sure that if he finds the right guy, he'll never look at a another man's 'beautifully sculpted arse' again. I used to have sex with John regularly, but I then realised that even though he was a great shag, we were much better off as friends. John agreed. Sarah and I work together and she has to be the funniest drunk I know, so she is ideal to party with. She is incredibly successful and generous, and the more she drinks the more generous she is. She buys tables at clubs and bottles of the most expensive vodka, I love it!

So we all drank at mine and went to this lovely wine bar. I was feeling pretty good in my new outfit and was receiving many appreciative smiles and nods - this was a start to a great night. Sarah immediately ordered 'Two bottles of your best white', and we obviously welcomed this gesture lovingly. That's when I noticed this beautiful man sitting at the bar with some friends, and by the looks of things he had noticed me a while ago. He had shaggy, black shiny hair with these piercing blue eyes that gazed at me intently when I caught his eye. He exchanged quick words with a waiter and a gin and tonic appeared in front of me almost instantaneously. Hmm I do love gin and tonic... He raised his glass to me and one cheeky eyebrow, so I flashed one of my award-winning grin in return. In almost no time he approached our table, and I found out that his name was Mike, he was some sort of journalist and that we had incredible chemistry. It was obvious that my friends seemed to drunkenly approve, I could tell by all the unsubtle kicks and eyebrown raises I was getting.

We then all moved on to this nightclub called Fabric, with Mike in-tow. We skipped the queue because Sarah had cunningly bought a table in advance. Mike and I were dancing to an amazing remix when he grabbed my hand and took me to the side of the club. He then stroked my hair out of my face and gave me a passionate yet gentle kiss. We quickly took a taxi back to my place, where we had mind-blowing sex. I'm pretty sure I burnt off all those Cosmos and glasses of wine.

But it was just a one-night fling, so I woke up and changed as quietly as possible in the morning. Then when he opened his eyes I told him I was meeting a friend for lunch, but that I'd had a great night. God he looked even sexier in the morning. He asked me with a genuine look in his eyes to call him, and left me his number. I'm not too sure if I will call him, I just got out of a serious relationship and it is definitely not the right time to start something new. But maybe if I'm feeling lonely one night, there wouldn't be any harm in calling him...

Well we'll see. Right now all I can think about is nursing my incredibly awful hangover.

I woke up today to the sound of London taxis and the light streaming into my bedroom, and I have to say that for the first time in months I felt like my usual, carefree self again. But my mood was immediately dampened when it dawned on me - I hadn't weighed myself since before I went to France. I am usually pretty obsessed with eating healthily and working out - in whatever for that may be - so after all the baguette and chocolate fondant I had consumed, things were not looking good. Well as I'd expected, I gained 3kg, so my workout regime starts today! Or maybe tomorrow...because I've spent most of the day shopping and I'm about to get ready to go out.

But on a brighter note, I had an incredibly successful shopping trip. As much as I love my heels, I decided that my gladiator flats would be a better option, there was a lot of shopping to be done! I threw on a white cotton jersey dress with a denim, studded waistcoat, left my hair as it was, (some call it the bed-head look, I just call it lazy), put on my necessary black eyeliner and mascara, and I was ready to go. I love how you can get away with less makeup when you have a tan.

I bought a skinny chai latte - Oh how I've missed my morning Starbucks! - then I was ready for some serious retail therapy. I ended up buying clothes, shoes, handbags, belts and sunglasses from designer and high street stores, and a fabulous outfit for tonight! I'm going to wear a pair of ridiculously high, black ankle boots, artfuly ripped, grey skinny jeans, a tight, white tank top and a beautiful black leather jacket. I hope to pull off the new 'rocker' look. Now that I'm single, I realised just how many sexy men there are in London. I had steamy eye contact with many, which was just what I needed to raise my self-esteem before a big night out.

Okay I have to go get ready now. My friends are coming over here for some mandatory drinking before we go drinking, so some Cosmos and Martinis are definitely in order. Wish me luck on my first night out being single since Jason! I say it's definitely time for my rebound.

Hey everyone. My name's Teresa Hunt, and I decided today that I should start an online blog. It's a way to vent and share everything that is happening in my life without wasting hundreds of pounds on a therapist who will just tell me that all my life problems are somehow linked to my father.

I've just returned from a two week holiday in a villa in the south of France. The good news is, I've managed to build up a natural tan without a hint of redness or peeling. The bad news is, I went to France with my boyfriend, Jason, and returned to my London apartment alone. I told Jason that I was going to visit one of my friends who was staying in St. Tropez for the day, which apparently seemed to translate to; 'I'm going to be gone for a while. You should use this opportunity to cheat on me with a whore you don't even know." About fifteen minutes into the drive to St. Tropez, I realised I had left my phone at the villa, and as I simply cannot live without my phone, I quickly turned around. Before I was even in the house I could hear some girl shouting promiscuously in French, so I rushed in to find Jason and a slut from the bakery on our street in one of the most compromising positions imaginable. It took a while for the gravity of the situation to sink in, so I actually stood there trying to work out which legs belonged to whose body. I then quickly packed all my clothes and took the first flight back to Heathrow, ignoring Jason begging pathetically for me to stay.

I know I should be incredibly angry and upset, but to be honest, I'm just pissed that Jason would choose that girl to have sex with over me. Not to be vain, because I am thankful everyday for what I have been given, but I am an attractive woman. I'm only 25, so no sign of wrinkles yet, I have long, dark brown, wavy hair, deep blue eyes and I'm pretty tall at five foot nine. But oh well, you win some and others screw you over.

Before I opened the door to my apartment in South Kensington, I decided that I could either do a Bridget Jones and sing hysterically to 'All By Myself', as I released fat tears into my tub of ice cream, or I could be more civilised about the whole situation. So alternatively, I opened my door and appreciated the smell of my fresh apartment, a mix of vanilla and cinammon, without any hint of my arse of an ex after sweating in the sun and eating far too much cheese. I then turned on some Jack Johnson and made myself a Cosmopolitan. After all the wine in France, it was a pleasant change - and I must admit I do make a mean Cosmo. I then took off my clothes which had absorbed the horrible smell of a plane and put on my white silk and lace camisole with matching white shorts. I have to say that there is a lovely contrast between the white silk and my golden tan. I then opened the latest issue of Vogue which had arrived while I was away, I settled down for a relaxed yet luxurious night in.

I plan to waste no time dwelling on the past. Tomorrow I'm going to buy an amazing outfit and then go out for drinking and dancing with my friends. I'm certain that there are plenty more single men in London...