So then the penguin says…

Dear Blog,

Three days in a row!!!

You must be about to go into shock 😀

So as I predicted, Actual Christopher was a jerk.

*Myself and Jenny are discussing my really weird dream from the night before. Actual Christopher struts –yes struts- into the office kitchen*

Me: …so then the penguin says…

Actual Christopher: So hope you guys managed to keep everything running while I was gone.

Me: Eh first of all, conversation here *gesturing between myself and Jenny* and second of all, everything ran AMAZINGLY without you around to irritate everyone.

Actual Christopher: *laughs* I’m sensing some professional jealousy here.

Me: What?

Actual Christopher: Oh cmon, everyone in the office wanted the New York job. Extra pay, great accommodation, great parties and I even got a tan.

Jenny: Yeah well that was pretty miraculous considering it was cloudy and humid and raining the entire time you were there.

Me: *sniggers* Yeah I’m seeing some streak marks in that ‘tan’, Chris…you want me to lend you my bottle?

Actual Christopher: So it’s looking obvious who’s going to be the next one up for a promotion.

Me: Get over yourself.

Actual Christopher: The New York launch was the most important one in the schedule and they sent me.

Jenny: Only because it was a car and they wanted a guy to do the Guy Talk.

Actual Christopher: You keep telling yourselves that

And then he walked off with that irritating “I’m amazing” expression on his face.

There was nothing around to smush into his face at the time…

Laters!

Lottie

Maybe I’ll smush something in his face

Dear Blog,

Sorry for the depressive nature of my last post.

I sat down to start typing and then it hit me that I’d nothing to write and it made me a little sad…where had all my crazy adventures gone?

I’ve come to terms with being a loser now though, so it’s all good!

What I neglected to tell you in the last post was that work has been MENTAL this last few months, which has resulted in me doing ten to twelve hour days! *score!* Basically our company landed a few new clients who all had major projects getting underway so my workload doubled!

I spent a lot of time going between here (Dublin) and London and even had to spend three weeks there last month to organise two launches. That might sound great but there was no extra pay and my company didn’t see any need to reward me with a nice hotel room and so I stayed in a hovel located in the beautiful East End. I took about twenty showers the day I came back *shudders*

Hermia was ECSTATIC when she heard I was going, thinking I could do some lovely cheap shopping for her and was then heartbroken when I had to admit I’d have NO time at all. I did manage to weasel a few hours to visit Camden market during on of the days and bought her a tea dress, so she’s happy now!

This should be my first normal week in work with the campaigns winding down so woohoo! Although, Actual Christopher is due back tomorrow after being sent to deal with the NEW YORK launch, so Lord knows we’ll have to deal with his insufferable self-praise and general arsehole-ish-ness….

…maybe I’ll smush something in his face…

Peace Out,

Lottie

It’s bad enough knowing your life isn’t super awesome without seeing the lameness written down on paper/blog

Dear Blog,

So it’s been a while….a few months…well four months….

*silence….some non-chalant whistling*

Well this is….awkward, I mean, nice…nice….I meant nice.

Hermia’s survey turned up a few demands for me to update this blog, so in wanting to please her readers in every possible way, she threatened to burn and maim my stuff asked if I’d try and get back into blogging.

So here I am.

Remember when I started this blog and I was in a Life Slump? And I’d decided I was going to make my life more interesting and document it?

Well I’m still in the Life Slump.

Which is awesome.

Turns out that just deciding you’re going to turn your life around isn’t really enough.

I guess I imagined a Bridget-Jones-Esque result if I started documenting my life and trying new things.

But it didn’t happen.

So I guess my funk has kept me away from here.

It’s bad enough knowing your life isn’t super awesome without seeing the lameness written down on paper/blog.

This probably isn’t the epic return you were all waiting for.

*twiddles thumbs*

Love,

Lottie

So I was pretty indignant at the fact he was completely cool with it.

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Dear Blog,

Wow I’m a little shocked that we were nominated for the Irish Blog Awards. It’s the nicest feeling to know that people think your life is interesting enough, not just to read, but to recommend.

So thank you, Readers!

You made my day!

So I suppose you’re wondering what happened after the last post’s cliffhanger.

Well, it really was an anti-climax, if I’m honest.

I text Hot Boy Next Door. It was just a general “Hey I’ve been meaning to congratulate you again on the gig. You guys were really good. Talk soon!” text….to which I received no reply.

Can’t be too shocked really.

I completely deserve it for not being able to control my drink-induced hormones.

The next day I met up with Keith, having spent time trying to convince myself that it was perfectly fine to end things over text. I mean, we are the technology age so it makes sense that we should conduct our social selves through technological mediums, right?

Nah, I couldn’t even convince myself of that.

So we met up for a drink in my local pub, The Abberley, and I told him that even though he was nice and I enjoyed hanging out with him, I just didn’t think it was going to go anywhere.

He agreed.

If I’m honest, that pissed me off a little.

I kinda liked the idea of ME finally rejecting someone else, so I was pretty indignant at the fact he was completely cool with it.

I didn’t even get a sad face or a Brave Little Soldier face!!!!!!

*sigh*

He also queried whether HBND was an Ex of mine, considering he’d been a bit quiet with him every since we’d started going out together.

I shook my head, and took a drink to hide my guilty face.

So now I’m a wandering singleton once again….

Look, every girl needs to mess a guy around to help her recover from being messed around herself….

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thDear Blog,

Ok please don’t go into shock! I know it’s unHEARD of for me to post twice in one day, and please don’t worry, I’m not dying!!

Basically I had a lot to say and rather than  making your eyes cross with one GIANT post, I thought it might be better to split it up.

*pats Blog soothingly* shhhh darling, it’s ok. *Blog starts purring*

So, I left you at the Boyfriend part.

Now I know that night doesn’t paint me in the most wonderful of lights, but …..well I don’t have excuses.

Basically, I stopped liking Hot Boy Next Door just as he started liking me, and his obsessive behaviour made me fancy him even less! Desperation is just not attractive.

To be honest, Keith isn’t very attractive either. Like he’s grand, but he has that “I could do with a shower” look about him….and he talks about music A LOT…..and I do try to avoid touching his hair just in case there are things living there…..

But he’s sweet. And he has that confidence that’s sort of intoxicating. And he does make me laugh. And he’s a great kisser. And he is thoughtful. He texts me the right amount.

But still…..he’s not my TYPE!

And I wonder if I’m sticking with him to justify kissing him that night. You know, so I don’t just look like a super skank for kissing HBND’s band mate when I was on a kinda-date with him and then do nothing afterwards. At least if I go out with him, it looks like I was serious about him and not just really drunk and trying to avoid HBND.

Olivia and Tim are great, but they are not so great with serious emotional situations.

So at moments of crisis like this I have two support groups I turn to:

Group 1: My old school and college friend Esme and her boyfriend Michael.

Group 2: My Boys, who consist of four guys I used to work with back in my grocery store days -Ian, Roman, Shane and Niall.

*as you may or may not have realised, I don’t use the people’s real names (could get messy if anyone stumbled across the blog!), so even though it would be AWESOME to have a friend called Esme, she chose that name for herself for blogging purposes*

Group 1 was my first port of call. I headed up to their apartment to get the Experienced In Relationship point of view…and tea…and Fig Rolls.

Esme: Ouch.

Me: I know

Esme: That’s….that’s harsh.

Me: I know. It just happened.

Esme: Hmmmm, well it was a really crappy thing to do to HBND, Lottie, and I’m not going to tell you otherwise.

Me: *hangs head in shame* I know, I’m sorry.

Esme: It’s not me you should apologise to.

Me: You think I should say something to him!?

Esme: I think it’s bad that you made out with one of his mates and then didn’t speak to him for the weeks afterwards. You don’t have to offer him pity; just let him know you realise you were a cow.

Michael: Though you just kicked his pride in the crotch, so don’t expect open arms! He’s probably going to be angry with you, but eventually he’ll feel better.

Esme: And what about Keith?

Me: What about Keith?

Esme: Do you like him?

Me: Yeah….he’s …..grand, you know?

Esme: Lottie, don’t string him along.

Me: I’m not! I don’t think so anyway….

Esme: Look, he sounds like a nice guy, but you don’t seem to keen on him, and I think you’re right about being with him just to avoid looking like a slut.

Me: Oh God, I’m a slut!

Esme: No you’re not! This isn’t something you do all the time. Look, every girl needs to mess a guy around to help her recover from being messed around herself: it’s a control thing after having someone else drive a spoon through your heart. But the decent girls usually feel bad and try never to do it again.

Esme is so wise. She’s like my super-blunt conscience…..if only she could fit in my pocket *sigh*

Group 2 went something like this…with burgers….and cocktails and beer:

Ian: You’re a bitch.

Ronan: Total bitch.

Shane: Queen of the Bitches.

Niall: Yeah.

Me: I know.

Shane: That guy must HATE you!

Me: I know.

Ronan: So what are you going to do?

Me: I think I need to apologise.

Ronan: No don’t draw attention to it!!!! Maybe send him a general text and let him have the satisfaction of ignoring it! He’ll feel better if he thinks he’s done something to you.

Ian: That’s a good idea.

Me: And I should break up with Keith.

Shane: Ah no….you might as well get something out of this….

Ah the boy perspective….

So the plan is to send a general text HBND and throw myself on his mercy (ie: he can ignore me, shout at me, or act like nothing happened) and I’m going to end things with Sweet’n’Smelly Keith….

Oh yeah you can TOTALLY see that, gushed Tim…

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Dear Blog,

As has become customary, I must apologise for neglecting you.

You see, when I started you, I had no life, and so I had time to update you quite regularly.

But now that I am not sad and alone, I am lacking in sit-down time with you.

You are always on my mind though. *hug*

The news? Well my dreams to become the Crazy Cat Lady from The Simpsons have been put on hold, as I ……Charlotte Magdalene Lee…..have a sorta-boyfriend.

Oh God, I know!

I’m a sorry excuse for a modern independent woman!

It all started the night I ended up at Hot Boy Next Door’s gig.

Olivia and Tim came along so I wouldn’t look like a loser groupie, swaying alone in front of the stage, but they had developed a geniusly cunning plan to leave when HBND descended the stage and came to my side: they had work in the morning.

Unbelievably smooth.

So after an hour of awkward drink-sipping and casual armpit-sweat-mark-and-or-smell checking, HBND’s band finished playing (they’re called Led Zeppelin’s Babies….I know, I know….but they actually sound pretty decent and nothing at all like Led Zeppelin….more like The Kooks meet Greenday) and had completed their clean-up, HBND made his way towards me.

Hey Charlotte, he said.

Mmmm hey, I muttered, conscious of the fact that Olivia and Tim were hanging on every word of this stimulating conversation.

So ….did you like our set? he asked.

Set….set….presuming he meant music, I said: Oh yeah, you guys are really good!

Thanks, he said, we learned from the best.

Oh really? I said, not really knowing what to say. Did you have a good teacher?

He gave me an odd look. No I mean we learned from Led Zeppelin. They’re a total inspiration to us.

Right…..

Oh yeah you can TOTALLY see that, gushed Tim.

Totally, agreed Olivia.

You guys are saps.

Anyway, we have to get going, said Tim, faking a yawn. Work in the morning, you know yourself.

Oh yeah, I need my sleep, added Olivia.

Almost TOO smooth.

And so they left.

And so I was left with HBND.

Do you want a drink? he asked

Oh no, I’m ok, I just got one, I said, pointing to the near-full pint in my hand.

Cool, I’ll be back in a second, he said, trying to signal the barman.

AWKWARD!

Just as HBND arrived back, his entire band bore down on top of us.

Hey man!!!! said the drummer. Aren’t you going to introduce us to your friend?

Things looked up from there, and the conversation was easy and allowed me to avoid one-on-one time with HBND who was making me feel very awkward after the previous barrage of texts and calls. I started to notice things about him, like his odd nose and the annoying way he kept clearing his throat.

He was very much spoiled for me….maybe because of Olivia or maybe because of his desperate behaviour. I dunno.

Drinks kept flowing anyway and soon, my memory was becoming fuzzy.

One memory that wasn’t fuzzy was the Little Drummer Boy (Keith) leading me to a corner of the dance floor after a session of jumping and head banging to some Arcade Fire song I don’t even like, and kissing me. And me kissing him. Well, maybe “hungry bears mouth-raping” would be a better description considering how drunk we were.

Oh dear.

HBND obviously hadn’t told any of His Boys about his crush, because Keith asked how long we’d been friends as we all went for chicken balls and curry sauce after the bar closed.

HBND went home with the bass player (John) instead of getting food ….well not ‘with’ the bass player, just at the same time, so it was myself, Keith, the lead vocalist (Brendan) and another guitarist (Wes) left.

Thankfully my dignity remained somewhat in tact, and I went home alone …to my home…alone ….and walked in to Tim and Olivia sitting up waiting for info.

Trying to maintain an air of sobriety (and failing) I filled them in on what happened.

Both were hysterical with the delight of a person whose friend is inspirationally scandalous, while also showing some sympathy for HBND.

I suppose if you don’t like him, there’s nothing you can do, said Tim, wisely.

So Keith called the next night, in a casual non-obsessed way and we organised something for the next week and we’ve been continuing to organise things since….

While he and Olivia sat on me…

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Dear Blog,

So I’ve left you hanging since the housewarming, which I can admit was a party worthy of an American soap opera, it was that unbelievably dramatic.

Initially I didn’t write because it was Christmas and I was busy eating.

And then it was because I didn’t have a whole lot to report, and unlike Hermia, I don’t post every little thought that comes into my head! 😛

And then, well I guess I was feeling a little unloved…. *collective awwwwhhhhh*

I felt I was boring the poor people to peek into my blog diary. There were only a few comments (this did quite a lot of harm to my delicate ego) and even an accusation that everything was made up to get a book deal.

And so I contemplated abandoning my little blog.

Until a few loyal followers contacted me during the week to demand an entry. And sure, if even one person is interested in reading about my life, then it’s worth writing about!

So, I’m beginning to wonder if maybe I completely made up that mini conversation with Actual Christopher because NOTHING has changed in work! He’s just as obnoxious as ever….even if he’d increased his attitude I’d think he was doing it to overcompensate for his moment of weakness! But no change. The Monday after the party our conversation went like this:

*Actual Christopher ignores Charlotte for the first six hours of the day, with the exception of rolling his eyes whenever he overheard her saying something*

*Cue Charlotte and Jenny chatting in the lunchroom. Actual Christopher is reading the New York Times like a big spaz in the corner*

Charlotte: Does it count as drinking coffee when I have half the cup filled with milk and three sugars in there?

Jenny: Hey, whatever makes you happy!

Actual Christopher: And fat.

Charlotte: Excuse me?

Actual Christopher: That much sugar has to go somewhere!

*Exit Christopher*

True story.

On the other hand, Hot Boy Next Door has been plaguing me with calls and texts, which is making him decidely less Hot.

Olivia thought I should give him a chance though.

So did Tim.

I did not.

So Tim stole my phone, while he and Olivia sat on me, and he told Hot Boy Next Door that I would attend his gig next Thursday. And go for drinks after.

So I have a date *sigh*

I wonder what I should wear….dressy? casual? dressy casual?

“To the punch bowl, thou art destined…”

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Dear Blog,

I’m sorry for leaving you hanging on for information, but work has been manic for the last week, and it’s hard to get alone time in the apartment to concentrate on this.

So last time we spoke, I told you we were getting ready for our housewarming.

Well it was a blast and a complete success according to everyone I’ve spoken to ….especially because it was SO wild, the police had to come a break it up.

True story.

But first things tradionally come first, so I begin with the beginning….

Unusually, I actually finished work on time that night and so had plenty of time to decorate both the apartment and myself.

Our tree was up, the ceilings were nearly invisible with the amount of decorations hanging from it, there were balloons and disco balls and Tim even managed to get his hands on some strobe lights, casually ignoring the fact that we might have had epileptics at the bash. So yes, lots of colour and lights, I was banned from the music selection so it would be ‘cool’ (Bah, Humbugs!) and I whipped up large portions of my extra special punch (alcohol mixed randomly with acquired alcohol basically …I’m an improv artist!).

People actually showed up, which did away with fears of rejection resulting in one seriously lame-ass party!

So we danced-danced-danced the night away and I stayed in cool areas of the apartment so I didn’t sweat like a hog wrapped in wool and ruin my hair or drunkenly miss the fact I was baring sweat patches to the room.

It was set-up to be a pretty bitching night, until my workmates showed up ….with a non-work-Mate. You might remember him as Actual Christopher. That’s right ….the Feck-Bag himself.

And I was the lucky person who opened the door to them, so I couldn’t even spend the night avoiding any conversation with him.

“Hey guys, you made i……What are YOU doing here!?” I squeeked as I realised who was standing behind Jenny and Alan.

“Oh that’s a nice way to greet a guest,” he smirked, looking all smirky and stuff.

“Well I don’t remember asking you to be a guest, so I think I’m allowed a slip-up in the decorum department,” I snapped back.

“Yeah so, we were talking about your party and he overheard and we, you know, invited him, cause, you know…” interupted Alan with pleading Don’t Hate Us eyes.

I felt bad. Sure it wasn’t their fault if he was dropping eaves and they were in an awkward position and ….Oh damn my niceness.

“Don’t worry about it,” I shrugged. “The more the merrier, right?” I linked myself in between Jenny and Alan and led them to the punch bowl, leaving Actual Christopher to close the door.

“I’m really sorry!” Jenny whispered in my ear. “We didn’t realise he was there, and we were so shocked he wanted to come….”

“Yeah I couldn’t believe it!!!!” said Alan.

“Me neither,” I said. “He does seem to love pissing me off though, so I suppose it’s understandable from that point of view.”

After depositing my co-workers on some other friends, I made my rounds to catch up with anyone I missed coming in. After finished my learned small talk with another group of people I didn’t know, I made I contact with a rather panicked looking Olivia across the room. Knowing that Tim was teaching the box step out in the hall at that stage, I decided to rush to her aid, cos I’m all heroic and selfless and stuff.

Though I did find it strange that her panicked eye-contact grew more panicked the closer I came.

And just as I appeared by her side, I realised why she was so panicked…

“Charlotte, hi!”

Shitaki Soup!!!!!

It was Hot Boy Next Door.

“Oh …hi,” I said. “Uhm fancy seeing you here ….in my apartment”

“Yeah well I really wanted to see you, seeing as you just kinda disappeared from your old place,” he said, boring his stupid awesome eyes into my stupid sweating soul.

“Well, everything happened quickly, so….” I trailed off.

“Yeah, Sophie said you had a fight and just…” he began.

“Well, oh yes well if Sophie said, then it must be gospel,” I half-snapped. “Oh dear, there’s somebody calling me over ….see you around.”

ARGH!!!! Two seconds of conversation and he HAD to bring HER up!

“Well where are you off to like a bat out of hell!?” inquired Tim, grabbing my arm as I weaved my way through the groups squashed into our sittingroom.

“Anywhere that’s away from Hot Boy Next Door gushing about the wonderful Sophie,” I spat.

“To the punch bowl, thou art destined!” he said, pushing my to the direction of the food table and waving encouragement at me over the sea of heads.

Pouring myself an extra-full cup of punch and taking a huge gulp of the mixture, I heard:

“Drinking alone is terribly sad. Shouldn’t you have some cats to go with that?”

I turned to see Actual Christopher beside me.

“Yeah well at least I’m only alone for a minute. You, on the other hand, will be that way forever,” I snapped. “So…” I continued conversationally, as the punch trickled through my bloodstream and to my brain; “Isn’t it enough to piss me off during the 40 hours a week we work together? Do you love it so much that you need to follow me home to get another fix.”

“Actually, I was just curious to know if you’d look even prettier at a party than you usually do in work,” he said levelly.

HUH!??????????

I think my mouth actually dropped open. Either he’s really drunk or he’s completely taking the piss or he’s using amazingly-disguised sarcasm or he’s just plain evil.

Not knowing what to say, I took another drink.

Smiling smugly at my silence, he continued: “And now I know that you’re completely beautiful when you’re not running around an office, pulling at your hair.”

Cue mouth opening again.

“Uhm…..”

“Charlotte? Sorry am I interupting?” asked Hot Boy Next Door, appearing behind Actual Christopher, who rolled his eyes and walked off.

I watched him walk away.

“Is that your boyfriend or something,” Hot Boy Next Door asked, following the direction of my eyes.

That brought me back to reality.

“God no,” I said, talking another drink to distract myself. “Just a guy from work. What do you want?” I asked, cringing at how rude I sounded.

Hot Boy Next Door only smiled warmly at me. “I was just going to let you know that I’m playing a gig tomorrow night and was going to ask if you’d like to come. And maybe come out for a drink with me afterwards?” he added.

My feelings at that point were some kind of mix between ecstasy, confusion and anger that I was sloppy seconds to Sophie ….or maybe a way for Hot Boy Next Door to get back at her…..

“I really miss …talking to you,” he said, stepping closer to me and brushing against my free hand.

“Uhmmmm…..” I started …..and never finished, because blue lights began flashing outside our window, pairing up with the sound of a siren.

“Police!” shouted someone beside the window.

Frick!

20mins later, everyone bar me, Tim and Olivia had been ushered out of the apartment.

Turns out our upstairs neightbour, some old lady who is about 100 called the police, DESPITE the fact that we had spoken to her about the party during the week, promised her it wouldn’t go on any later than 2am and also swore that it wouldn’t be a regular occurance, resulting in her giving us her blessing ….and then calling the police at 11:45pm and claiming we were hooligans on drugs.

The police were pretty cool about us and just told us to take it easy in future, because next time they’d have to give us a warning. Apparently crazy old women are a regular with them!

So that was the housewarming….

To end that awkward moment where I feel like they feel rejected….

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So the housewarming is tonight and thankfully, I can report that the worst part of the organisation is over: I have my dress!

Isn’t it pretty!

Simple, perfect colour, nice cut, sophisticated, yet flashes enough of my legs to be inticing!

Not that I’m planning on inticing anyone.

I’m just making a point.

Oh and work people are coming ….woo.

Actually, I’m changing that to a sincere woo, because some of my work peeps are decent.

But that’s not why I invited them.

No, no, it was guilt-inspired.

Bumped into Jenny and Alan (AKA: New Office Boy who’s not actually new anymore) during my lunchbreak yesterday, at which point I was carrying Aldi bags stuffed with Tropial Punch ingrediants (Wine, vodka, knock-off Malibu, more wine, assortment of juice, more vodka …basically anything that was on sale!!!) and a variety of crisp multipacks and dip. So after the awkward “So weekly grocery shopping then, yeah?” jokes, I was forced to admit I was having a housewarming and then super-enthusiastically invited them to come to end that awkward moment where I feel like they feel rejected and they feel awkward cos they might be rejected and are now forcing a pity invite.

People can be so tiring sometimes.

But at least I didn’t have to invite Actual Christopher (that jerk).

But wooo party!

As I said (although maybe I just said it in my head) ….

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Hello Blog (and random people who read about my life),

As I said (although maybe I just said it in my head), the last couple of months living with Tim and Olivia have been frickin’ sweet!

Yes we trip over each other and yes we fight for the TV and yes I’m going to kick ass in my milk is touched again, but they’re all small teeny tiny prices to pay and on the large scale of things, living with two great ACTUAL friends more than makes up for small annoyances.

We’re throwing an incredibly belated housewarming on Friday night.

Guess who’s not invited….

…..Sophie.

Guess who is…..

……Hot Boy Next Door.

I KNOW!!!

And it wasn’t me who invited him, before you start staring accusingly at me: it was Olivia.

She bumped into him on Monday in town and recognising her from coming in and out of my apartment, he stopped and asked about my whereabouts. She, being Olivia, got incredibly worried and nervous about talking to him, fearing she was somehow betraying me seeing as I had applied huffy ignorance of him since he went out with my EX-best friend, and so indulged in some lovely babbling, mentioning that we were having the housewarming.

And he said it would be nice to catch up with me and left that awkward silent pause in the air…..

…until she cracked like a dried-out twig and said “Oh well you should come…..”

In all honest, I can’t possibly be mad at her because she’s Olivia and she never does anything mean to anyone and I genuinely know how she babbles uncontrollably in awkward situations. However, this does put an exceedingly large amount of pressure on moi.

I have to look very impressive and incredibly lofty and unattainable and non-carish when he arrives.

I need a new dress…