In the early hours of the new year in 2012 I threw a lit lantern into the air and made my wish for the year ahead. This was a somewhat unplanned activity and the instruction to make a wish on it was thrust upon me at the last minute, so off the top of my head I wished for the first thing that came to mind – a year of drama. I know, I know, what on earth was I thinking?! Now I do love a bit of drama, but I like it to be solely of the good variety, unexpected windfalls, exciting relationship developments etc. Unfortunately that part of the message never quite made it off into the air with the lantern and, of course, my wish was granted.
2012 brought me drama with bells on, work was mental and the source of much stress, but mostly balanced out with good times too. Which is good, but did lead to a kind of crazy swinging back and forth between being good obsessed with my job, unable to leave it alone because it was fascinating to me, and bad obsessed, fuelled by anxiety and resenting colleagues who didn’t seem to care as much as I did. More than one person, ok then, more than a few people, compared me to the character of Carrie on Homeland throughout the year. I didn’t mind so much when it was my own colleagues, but it started to get slightly worrying when it was random people who I crossed paths with briefly in my working life!
The main drama in 2012 came courtesy of my very messy love life. I started the year involved with WorkEx in secret, before it all went horribly wrong in March, leading to him taking several weeks off work and me having to continue turning up every day with no idea of what was going on or whether he was ever coming back, while all around me people speculated wildly about what was up with him. There was then his massively uncomfortable return and weeks of us blanking each other amidst an icy atmosphere and consequently, of course, yet more speculation from colleagues. It took about a week for us to go from tentatively speaking to each other again to falling into bed and promises being made. Then about another month before the first falling out and the start of the pattern being repeated over and over again in an endless cycle. We seem to be incapable of staying apart but we also can’t be together. Guaranteed drama, and not of the good variety.
In trying to put WorkEx behind me I also did a bit of dating in 2012, mostly with disastrous consequences. There was the friend of a friend, met the day after the big WorkEx drama at a wedding. He drowned me in compliments, made me a (really quite impressive) rose out of a paper napkin and bought a £300 round of drinks, right before I ditched him and somehow ended up sharing a bed with a work colleague in his girlfriend’s farmhouse. Oops. When the guy persisted I went on a date with him where I behaved very badly, but he should have known what to expect! There was also: the Italian doctor, who ordered me a seemingly never ending cup of liquid chocolate that had to be licked, in a borderline pornographic way off a spoon (it really was the only way, honest); the guy who always wore sunglasses and couldn’t do text flirting to save his life; the ex-athlete who tried to take me on a date to meet his family when I barely knew him and the younger man who put me off forever by telling me he was ‘buzzing’ one weekend. Unacceptable. I also kissed a ridiculous number of randoms, but then 2012 was the year of the drunkeness.
Unsurprisingly, given the state of my love life, I wholeheartedly embraced the tradition of drinking to forget in 2012. It started (much like everything else!) right after the big WorkEx drama. I had a wedding to go to and the only way to get through it was to drink my way to sweet oblivion. So I did. I declared to all and sundry at the wedding that my new life plan was to never sober up – fortunately for my liver that proved impossible, but I did manage to have some fun trying. Things I did while drunk last year included: offending my ex husband so badly that he never spoke to me again (and failing to remember what I did!); being shot in the leg; gatecrashing a party at Somerset house; throwing up in the bar of a very nice hotel; making my head of department do shots of tequila; dislocating my big toe by jumping off a podium (and then popping it back in and carrying on the party!); pulling a teenager; being chased round a club by a crazed lesbian and posing gangsta style, middle fingers raised and all, across the bonnet of a Lamborghini on Waterloo bridge while random men took photos of me. The worst thing about it all is that I can’t quite seem to find it in myself to regret any of it. Oh dear.
So I wished for drama in 2012 and my wish came true. By the end of the year I was determined to get hold of another one of those lanterns and make a better wish. More on that coming soon…..