The Deed is Done

Other Man and I are now over.

I told him last night. It was horrible. I thought I'd feel happy and relieved and lighthearted afterwards, but I didn't. I just felt cruel and regretful.

I believe I did the right thing, but I can't help wishing I could take it back, give him a big and make him feel better. He was so shocked and seemed kind of upset. Made me feel like a colossal jerk, and so sad. I didn't leave with a spring in my step like I'd expected, and I didn't feel empowered. I felt like I could cry.

I must stop dumping people. I think I should stop going out with men completely, for their own good!

It's like, when I'm going to break up with a man, I expect him to be quite accepting, maybe even turn the tables on me and say he'd actually been wanting to break up with me too. I never expect him to be unhappy about it. How horrid.

Anyway, I suppose I'm just being over-sensitive. Other Man doesn't really need a big hug - I do. I think just about any woman would do for him. He didn't really like me that much, just having someone for convenient sex.

Should be fun seeing him at work on Monday...

Good Clean Fun!

Yes, I have reasons to be cheerful! Isn't that nice?

#1 Soap making - I have finally, finally, since my course in November or whenever it was, got together all the equipment I need to make my first attempt at soap. It is not much of an exaggeration to say, I can't wait! I have a new cheap saucepan expressly for the purpose; also roasting tray, spoon, sugar thermometers (you have NO idea how difficult they were to get hold of; it seems like every homewares shop in Australia has an empty rack of them), measuring jug, caustic soda and even the olive oil I will need.

Once you've boiled up the soap, it has to set for SIX WEEKS until it is ready to use. It will be pure castille soap (dunno what that means but it sounds good, eh), but you can then boil it again with other ingredients to make all kinds of scented, luxurious soaps.

Can you imagine? Making saop from olive oil and nothing else except caustic soda? I am so excited to finally play the mad alchemist, I could burst! I've got Sunday circled on the calendar, so fingers crossed it all goes well.

#2 - Jamming with musos - I have, again FINALLY, found some muso types to jam with. I answered an ad on the internet from two guitarists who were looking for string players to play with, and went along last night to try it out. I've never done anything like that before - playing my violin has always involved someone putting sheet music in front of me, so it was daunting to be expected to just take my instrument out of its case and play it. I didn't set the world on fire or anything, but I surprised myself by not being too awful. There was another violinist there and she was better than me, but then she's had a bit more experience of that kind of thing.

The two guitarists wrote all their own songs, which was quite impressive. It was mostly that dirgy, snooze-inducing folk stuff that has about one chord and 300 verses, but in a way that was good because it was easier for me to try and play along to.

So anyway, quite soon I'll probably be a really famous musician and I won't have time to write here any more.

How to Succeed

This morning when I arrived at work I was dismayed to discover that I had an 8:30 team meeting to attend. 8:30 on a Monday morning? Who has meetings then? I’d spent the bus journey to work talking myself into a good morale for the week ahead, but then I found this in my diary and that was the end of that.

This meeting was chaired by a Sales Manager, who we shall call Tony, a man takes his job way too seriously. If he wasn’t such a thoroughly decent, good bloke, and he really is, I would unquestionably despise him. This is a man who subscribes to Sucess Magazine, a publication I was sublimely content never to have heard of until he decided to bring it up at every team meeting, urging subscriptions on everyone and photocopying articles composed entirely of smug platitudes to hand out to everyone.

According to the website, a veritable photogallery of square jawed 40-something males smirking under titles such as 'Corner Office' and 'How I Do It', Success Magazine is 'What Achievers Read'! (I know, it makes me want to vomit too.) I couldn't find a definition for success, but of course we all know it's lots and lots of money. Helpful advice includes:

• Slime your way up the office hierarchy (networking)
• Care for your nearest and dearest (Keep your body fit so you can work even harder)
• Keep your family sweet so they'll leave you the fuck alone
• Teach your kids important values in life (money management)
• Smugness (giving to charidee - helps avoid those waking up in the middle of the night "What am I doing with my life?" crises - you're a good guy, right?)
• Read books - Even ones that aren't about money!! They might help you with the getting rich stuff. You never know.

Featured heroes this issue include Einstein (because of course Success readers can really aspire to be like one of the greatest scientists that ever lived, though with a smarmier haircut and bigger teeth, of course) and Ray Kroc, who I know from a song by Dire Straits* and let's say, it wasn't terribly complimentary. Maybe if I read the article, I can become more like him! Because of course I want to!

It kind of hurts my soul that this magazine even exists. Can you tell? The worst thing is that I work on a floor of about 100 sales people who all lap this stuff up. I really don't want to share the same air as people who consider themselves 'goal-orientated' and read articles about 'the formula for failure and success'. People who think hobbies and interests are things you have to make time for because you're so busy making money. These are the kind of people who probably think Hugh Heifner is someone to admire.

My colleagues can be summed up in one word: consumers. They are encouraged to think that everything in the world is there for their consumption. Nature is there to ripped out of the earth and made into big ugly houses for their families; primary resources there to be converted into fast cars and yachts; animals are for eating/riding/wearing/being peered at in zoos/turned into pets to keep their bratty kids happy; women are for leering at/giving birth to your children/screwing; other countries are for (sex) tourism and blokey piss-up holidays; do I need to go on? All you need is MONEY. Then you can - indeed it's your duty to! - pay your money and buy whatever or whoever you feel like consuming. You're entitled to. After all, you've spent all year ignoring your family and making lots of lovely MONEY for the company.

Once every year we have a big event to mark the beginning of the new sales year and recognise all the highest achieving sales guys (they're all guys, even the few women) of the previous years. There's a dinner, entertainment (with scantily clad women - this evening is all about rewards, and women demeaning themselves is a reward), speeches, then a nauseating awards ceremony which always ends up with pretty much every sales person on stage, back-slapping and congratulating each other, machismo dripping all over the place like chip fat. Every man there is convinced he's an alpha male just oozing sexiness, dominance and leadership.** I drink at these things. You have to.

Last time I was repeatedly groped and propositioned by one of the drunkest guys there. He asked me if I had a boyfriend, and if I did, if he had a small penis and left me unsatisfied in bed. Maybe he thought he would be preferable to a man with a small penis and no sexual skill. My colleagues are delusional like that.

So anyway, I hate my job. And I will be here forever.

* I trust Dire Straits' opinion more than Success Magazine's.

**Also they all seem to think they're atheletes in training for the Olympics in some very manly, thrusting sport. I know, weird.

Time to Break Up - Again

I'm aiming for this Sunday. I really have no idea how to do it. What's a nice way to break up with someone? I realise e-mail and text message are out, though even if I wanted to be so evil, it would hardly help given that I work a mere metres away from him.

I was wondering, do I drop hints for a couple of weeks so as to soften the blow? Should I generally be a bitch for a while? Or be all evasive when he asks me if he can see me at the weekend, so that he starts to suspect? I know that sounds mean, but is it meaner than brightly accepting offers and then saying at the end of the date, "by the way, let's break up!"

Other methods I've thought of include:

• Suggesting I want babies. NOW! He would run a mile - if he believed me.
• exposing him to lots of beautiful women. He's a bit of a lech so when he starts openly perving at them, I can initiate a mad fight!
• I could leave the country
• I could become really, really annoying in so many ways that he breaks up with me

Pitfalls:

• He'll probably know I'm lying, and know it's an insulting way of me trying to break up with him - not nice
• I can't work up the anger over this one. I don't really care.
• I'd love to, but no money at the moment
• I can't be annoying. Seriously. I'm just not an annoying person. It's impossible for me to be anything but FAB.

So I'm back to square one - date on Sunday then break it to him gently. I want it to be this Sunday so as to avoid all Valentine's Day ridiculousness next weekend. God, I hate these nauseating days The Establishment foist on us, and Other Man is way too conservative to join me in thumbing my nose at them. It has been ordained that official boyfriends must mark the event, and God forbid we should lapse in our duties to capitalism. So the burning question is, what kind of date activity is suitable when you intend to end it with a break up?

Or do you plan a date, meet, break up, then agree not to bother?

Why do they not teach these things in school?!!!!