I just went out and bought a tub of Ben & Jerry's, walked back home and ate about a quarter of it while watching Doctor Who on BBC iPlayer. On the way back home I passed a Domino's Pizza, so I bought a pizza and a can of Sprite too.
I'm not being deliberately decadent for no reason, nor am I committing suicide by sins of the gullet. Today I finished a work placement and after this weekend I'm back in college, and that's a cause for celebration. Not that I actually disliked my placement - I liked it, in fact - or that I like college - because I don't. But the fact that I got through the placement largely unscathed is a real cause for celebration. Because, well, there's a recession on, and so everyone needs a cheerful evening every now and again.
This is the first Friday evening I've spent alone in a long time. My parents are out and my cat is asleep, and as for my girlfriend - well - she's in Oxford, with a phone sans charger. Were this a usual evening, I'd be celebrating in a rather more horizontal fashion. The best way to get over something that's finished, after all, is to get over, on top of and into someone else. It's the way of things.
But no such luck for me. Not that I'm complaining (there are a lot of worse things than being in your house on your own, I turned Doctor Who up to 11), but I'm lonely, wanting to celebrate and I haven't had sex for a while, so I'm a little grumpy. Note to the virgins out there: don't start unless you can cope with stopping. Took me a few years to get used to not having sex, and then of course I started having sex again, and so on and on the merry dance goes.
So what do I do spending a Friday evening without ladyfriend here? Why, I go and buy Ben & Jerry's, of course.
This took me longer than I'd originally expected, although I was prepared for every eventuality - I had my iPod in case of a long journey, my wallet, comfortable shoes, fantastic all-weather jacket and Thinsulate gloves. I walked casually to the nearest cashpoint. It's bitterly cold, but not actually windy or snowing or anything like that, so I was okay, really. Got cash out and headed into the Turkish supermarket, went straight to the ice cream freezer and riffled through the Ben & Jerry's. Cookie Dough, Caramel Chew Chew, Phish Food, Chunky Monkey... hmmm, no Half Baked. That's the one I really wanted. I mean, I'd set my heart and stomach on Half Baked. Right then and there, I was craving it more than I craved sex.
So I went into the next shop along. Cookie Dough, again. Phish Food, again. Does anyone actually eat Chunky Monkey? Gripe, moan, complain. Horny. Hungry. On to the next shop.
In the end, I walked all the way up to Costcutter, which is about half a mile away. On a cold night in a heavy jacket, that's a more arduous journey than you'd think. I felt exactly like Harry Brown looks. Into Costcutter, up to the freezer, and there it is. Half Baked. My prize. Handed over the ready cash that I can't afford to have handed over, back out of the shop, by way of Domino's, home. Power walked home, actually, through the pitch-black back alley that takes me home two minutes quicker. My time is that precious. Also I wanted the toilet.
You find me here, slightly sore, floating on the borderline between turned on and frustrated, tired and yet not tired, and achingly lonely. But on the plus side, I'm stuffed full of ice cream, and when I have that fighting my corner, I can go without the warm embrace of sex for a day or so longer.