So I’m determined for this week not to be mopey after last week. Because I’m a strong independent woman like that. It’s been a busy week though, with lots of powering through and doing fun things and spending time with cool people that I love.
Saturday was the day of the Camden cheese festival, which was mainly one big excuse to go back to Camden, which seems to be where I spend a lot of my time. Zero complaints though. Except we didn’t eat that much cheese. Connor went for a half-metre hot dog (mainly because he was hungover) and I went for a crepe to try and convince myself to eat. But we did do a lot of impulse shopping and I loved it. I got an 80/90’s vintage style shirt with crowns on it and I adore it. Connor decided I should get that one because – in his own words – because “of the queen you are”. Sold.
We also bought the softest teddy/keyring/cuddly things ever and I love them. Mine is the cute grey bunny because it’s grey and a bunny and I’m in love.
After the long train home and a quick nap, Amber whisked me away to a barbecue at our lovely friend’s very very impressive house. Like SERIOUSLY. And they played such civilised drinking games. I’ve never seen beer pong being played so poshly. You could just tell we weren’t from around here.
This has been my first full week back at work in almost a month, and while I get frustrated with it, I’m glad to be back. It gives me something to think about instead of dwelling on any shit I just can’t change. And that’s where Tinder comes in. What a wild ride. A good way of reconnecting with old school people and people I used to know, which has been actually REALLY nice. Apart from the odd needy straggler, Tinder hasn’t been too painful. But it’s only been a week so I’m not holding my breath.
There’s been quite a lot of life admin this week too. There’s been a struggle moving all my holiday details from Joe to Amber (what a pain in the arse that is.), although we’re excited to have the most basic-bitch, instagrammable holiday ever. It’s gonna be a beauty.
Later today I’m also going to the doctor’s to go get tested. Since I had no idea I’d been cheated on, things carried on as usual, so there’s always the worry. This is such an unspoken about subject, but it needn’t be. A quick test and you’re good to go (hopefully) My mum agreed it was a good idea, but then got worried that if I went to an STD clinic, I’d “get seen there”. The thing is, why is there shame there? Surely if you’re going to get tested, it’s more responsible than not and just hoping for the best? I’m so past hearing any slut-shaming (I actually love hearing people’s hoe stories). In my opinion, everyone’s having sex, so as long as it’s safe, isn’t that the best way? But that’s enough of my safe-sex lecture, time for a nap.