Results, and old self-cockblocks.

And the results are in! Expectations weren’t high, especially after the night before when a few people got their results in early after signing up to email and text notifications and a couple of folk who I thought would get good grades didn’t. Three that I know of so far failed all four subjects outright, including Marsha, which part of me is convinced is down to some computer error. We were neck and neck most times in regards to marks on any tests, and she was far ahead of me in the prelims, and revised more in a day than I did in a month. I thought that if she’d failed, when I opened up my letter it’d have been four straight “no awards.” But it wasn’t! I actually did far better than I thought I would:

• B for English. Despite my second essay being terrible and so lacking in sleep that I couldn’t focus in the exam and actually forgot the name of the poet I was writing about. Had to ask someone after the exam had finished who it was so I could quickly put the name in before the invigilator collected the papers. An upgrade from a C that I got in school.
• B for Modern Studies. Really surprised at this one, as knowledge-wise I was one of the best in the class, knowing a lot background shite that for once served a purpose, but structuring the essays and reports I always seemed to be struggling. Perhaps the tutor marked me more harshly during the year, maybe I just pulled it out of the bag. Biggest surprise either way, as I honestly thought I had fucked it, being just as tired as during the English exam.
• C for Business Management. Slightly disappointed in this one to be honest, I thought it was one of my strongest subjects, and as it was an afternoon exam instead of in the morning I managed to get a good night’s sleep beforehand. Left the exam feeling quite confident as well. Mostly likely I lost marks by giving a list of the right stuff, but not explaining it properly. Endurance subjects are a cunt.
• Biology was a no award. I wasn’t surprised by it, and to be honest if I had even gotten a D I would’ve been shocked. I never found it hard, it just bored me to tears, and I didn’t do enough revision. My own fault, fuck it.

So it wasn’t the three As and a B Thickness got at the same time, but it’s two more highers than I had last week. Now I need to figure out what in fuck’s good name I want to do with them, or indeed what I can do with them. And there’s still that nagging sensation that I know for a fact that I could’ve done better, could’ve worked harder. Then I remember that my best marks came from the times I was sleep deprived and carrying a hashover, so maybe things are as they’re meant to be, fuck knows. The grades aren’t bad, but they aren’t brilliant either, and I’m tempted to go back and try to upgrade them, make it easier to get into Glasgow or Strathclyde uni. So I’ve got a few more avenues open, but can’t decide what I want to do. Same old story. At least I don’t have to make excuse of why I spent nine months and got nothing out of it.

Was woken by an unexpected phone call from 28F of all people (who I now realise I haven’t mentioned before, but I’ll leave that until the end) asking how I’d gotten on. The postman hadn’t been yet (In Scotland, I’ve yet to see post get delivered as you have your breakfast, like in every film ever. And postage classes are When It Gets There and Good Fucking Luck Bud) and I was still asleep. We had a short chat, her avoiding the word boyfriend like it could give you cancer when she said what she had been up to the night before, and me sleepily hearing what she was saying through three feet of muffling sleep. I told her goodbye, realising later that I’m not sure if she heard me say it, the phone being most of the way to the bedside table at the time. That opened the floodgates, and reaffirmed my determination never to work in a call centre or be anyone’s secretary. Was nice to be able to say a little bit of good news for once, and though it’s naughty of me to admit it wasn’t totally bad that I did better than some people either. My mum had a day off from finding everything I did negative as well, a well deserved break.

Got a call from the Jobcentre today about an opening at a new branch of Pets At Home that was opening near where I stayed, from the sounds of it they need a fair few staff and soon. The number of hours isn’t great, but it’ll double what I get just now on the dole (I’m trying not to think of the fucking tax) and it’s easier to get a job when you’ve got a job. And as it’s only sixteen hours a week, that could work out at either four “after-school” shifts or two full ones at the weekend. Either way with a little bit of luck I could maybe go to college during the day. Hopefully having worked with animals before gets me a foot in the door. Though I pray that they don’t bother to phone up that particular reference, and 1) I didn’t tell her that I was using her as a reference. and 2) I’m almost certain she couldn’t wait to see the back of me. Decentish exam results and the chance of a job all in the space of 48 hours? All I need is to bang a wee dirty tomorrow and I’ve gained myself a Triforce.

28F’s story after the jump.

Speaking of which, 28F! Not entirely sure how to describe her, she’s not really a friend, but too close to be an acquaintance. Fuck it, she’s some girl from college that I’m meant to have more unresolved sexual tension with than I do. And any I do have is of the “I need to stick my dick in that” rather than the “Let’s fall in love and get married” variety. She was my Moby Dick, my white whale, that vagoo that got away yet I don’t want except just the once. That’s what she is. Why the name 28F? Because she told me a patent lie and said that was her bra size, and while the 28 part was probably right, the cup size was like my mark for Business Management, a C at most. I’ll admit, in the beginning, I had a thing for her. She was petite, unknown, new, with dyed red hair and just enough in common that we could talk fairly easily. She ticked the box that said “Look how things could be with a new girl” that I needed marked before I split up with Ex. But, she had a boyfriend, and I lost interest and moved onto other people that I wouldn’t see every day at college. We didn’t talk all that much or hang out for months until after christmas, she was barely at college and when she was she was mostly on the periphery. Then, in the new year, a few of us went out to the cinema together to see 127 Hours. We’d all gotten some vodka and put it whatever our soft drink of choice was. Felt like being 14 all over again. As we were standing outside a recently single 28F asked me back to hers, it seemed like the perfect time to hook up. Looking back now, it was.

I was rather excited even through the drunken haze, she was cute as all fuck, and I was going to get with her. But of course, that wasn’t what happened. What happened was nearly every single little thing told me to get out of that house and never glimpse this girl again. I blame part of it on the drink, but a more significant part on The Day Of Many Deaths being not long past, meaning Ex had reappeared back on my mind, and a girl I’d being seeing got a bit too clingy and it cemented all the things I wanted to avoid in a girl. What was wrong? There was a crucifix on the wall as soon as I stepped in the front door. The breed of dog that should’ve had a tail didn’t because it’d chewed it off. One of her brothers gave me a test which involved telling a shit Jew joke, then when I politely laughed said that showed my had a shit sense of humour with a looong awkward pause after it. A small speccy long-haired ginger poked his head out of the living room door, it’d taken me nearly four months and a repeat visit to be sure I hadn’t hallucinated it. Her bedroom was fairly manky, which I hadn’t expected. When we were jokingly comparing scars she showed me the fairly serious ones on her arms when she self harmed while she was younger. All of that, all of it, on this fucking trip into Shite Narnia I could have looked past. She showed me her nipple bar, she stroked my arse scar (that’s the one from that operation: it’s a conversation starter, and my excavated arse crack has gotten me laid before) and things were going swimmingly. I was going to be a happy man in the morning chaps! Then she left. She left the room. If she hadn’t I wouldn’t have seen the thing that set off every alarm bell in my head: the letter from her psychologist telling her when her next appointment would be. Images of my ex flashed into my mind, I told myself to get the hell out of there and never come back. Got the first part right at least, and fairly quickly. When she came back in I was already on my feet with my jacket half on, made up some “gee, it’s getting late” excuse and high tailed it out of there. The next morning I woke up feeling good, I’d dodged a bullet. The one after that wasn’t too bad either. But soon doubt creeped in, I’d messed up. Gents (and ladies too) if a hottie asks you to back to their house, is drunk, is showing off their nipple piercing and stroking your arse crack, shag them. Simple as that. They aren’t being friendly, you aren’t getting weird signals despite how casual you both might be acting, just fucking shag them.

Time trundled one, we kissed once on a night out but I was so drunk I can barely remember it. During this time all “us” had been built up into a big thing by other people. I didn’t think about her that way, didn’t think of anyone that way, not for a good long time. Started thinking to myself, what if they know something I’m denying to myself? Maybe I actually do like her. And so, one night when it was just the two of us, I decided to make a move, see if this thing was real, and we had our first sober, proper kiss. And it was great! It was fantastic! I fell madly in love straight away! No, I didn’t, it was shit and we just didn’t click. After a bit of fumbling things ended, we laughed and joked and things were alright between us, but it was always going to be just friends with an outside chance of drunken sex.

And things have carried on this way, we’d spend a fair bit of time together then go our separate ways for a few months, rinse and repeat. We smoked and got baked a lot a while back but it fizzled out and we do “paperwork” with other people. Right now, other than the phone call about the exam, not seen much of her in a couple of months. So that’s 28F, pain my arse, given more background than she needed, and on the outskirts of my life. But I’m unemployed and bored, so I’m allowed to spend as much time as I want going on about the supporting cast of my life!

Till next time, peace.