It's karma

I am feeling well pleased with myself as I have managed to configure my flatmates computer to work with our broadband provider, which means he can download porn or cruise Gaydar on his own PC rather than having to borrow my laptop. I also fixed his iPod which seemed to have given up the will to live. Now he owes me, big time!

In the romance stakes I am once again making a total mess of things. I have been on a couple of dates with a new guy. He is a friend of a friend and had a brief fling with one of my very good friends earlier this year. See, already I feel there is too much baggage, but we do get on well and there has always been this simmering thing between us. Anyway, I took him to see Sufjan Stevens (AMAZING!) on Monday and was supposed to see him on Wednesday, which I bailed on because I had to work really late and then on Friday, which I also bailed on, because, and I am really ashamed to admit it, I had a huge zit on the end of my nose. I don't really get them anymore, but this one came up like I was auditioning to be Coco the Clown. The receptionist at our office smiled as I walked past and said cheerily, "You must have been saying really bad things about someone to get a zit that size on your nose!".
I ran into the loos and examined my face in the mirror, it had indeed doubled in size and intensity in the time it had taken to get from Stockwell to Covent Garden.

At lunch I went out to get some food, as I was waiting to cross the road, the office manager walked up to me, "Hi Mark, have you just been into Farmacia (the local drugstore, which happens to be next to the zebra crossing) to get something for that spot?"

I felt like putting a bag over my head for the rest of the day. Anyway, when I called him to say I wasn't coming out that night, he started to get all paranoid and then I was too embarassed to say that actually I was just being childish and vain and worrying about a stupid spot. I sent him an SMS today to apologise and also to fess up. He hasn't replied. He thinks I am a freak.

However do not feel sorry for me, I do deserve it. I have sort of set myself up on a date on Sunday night. It's a guy from Friendster, who miraculously is not from San Francisco and has a very funny line in emails. We are going for a beer. By tomorrow I should be spot free. Knowing my luck as I type this he will be getting a coldsore!

Hope you are having more luck!

XM