I was doing the grocery shop for work the other day at New World Metro. I was in my usual hurry when I heard the most gorgeous British Accent “excuse me Miss, can I interest you in donating to the Paralympics?”

Swoon!

For starters you called me ‘Miss’ in a British accent, you can have whatever you like, If I still had my virginity I would SO have given you that.

Not only did he have a totally cute accent but he was astonishingly good looking! I actually stopped and stared, but just for a minute.

We had a brief chat about me donating and he pointed out that they only took cash, I didn’t have any on me but promised I would be back later.  I spent the whole morning figuring out what I would say, you know, all of the usual lame things that come with being single in the battlefield that is coupledom/dating.

The moment came, he remembered me and was very impressed I actually went back. Swoon!

I got a pin to say that I had donated. Again, we only spoke briefly.

Essentially I paid $20 for a cute guy to talk to me.

Nicely played Paralympics. Very nicely played indeed.

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The other week I had a very pleasant morning With Jess, Chloe and Ella. The sun was shining and I wasn’t wearing a coat, it was going to be a good day.

We checked out the Designer clothing sale at San Fran Bathhouse and decided it was too hideously crowded with Hipster kids, so we bailed for a much needed coffee.

We decided to go to Duke Cavall’s. We sat outside and were served by an extremely chatty waiter; he had nice eyes and a totes cute smile. The girls gently urged me to indulge in some flirting, being the fool that I am, I did.

Here is what unfolded:

He asked for my order, I stared into his eyes for too long and blushed, talked too quickly and played with my hair too much.He came back with my Coffee and was very nice, we were chatting away as I was flicking my sugar sachet, and it flew out of my hand and slapped him in the face and fell to the ground. I could only stare at the ground – forcing him to pick up the aforementioned sugar sachet, making him think I was a complete princess and a klutz to boot. Awesome.

Had I Been wearing these Fab Chanel Heels, I would have removed one of them and shot myself.

Chanel Gun Heels

Love Lady Jecca

x

Day 5, Ugh

November 2, 2009

man-walking-away

I write this sitting in my sisters flat, in the spare room/cupboard.

I used to live in this flat, and this room used to be his office – the irony of this didn’t strike me until 3 days after I had moved in, there was no chance of sleep that night. This pissed me off because I was actually attempting to sleep unaided by alcohol or the heavy tranquilizers my Mum had given me. So, I popped a pill and waited for sleep to give my lonely shoulders a hug, and it must have because I did wake up eventually, albeit groggy and disorientated.

I absolutely love that blissful 3 seconds when you wake up and you don’t remember what’s happened, then reality comes along, cautiously taps you on the shoulder and says (very politely I might add) “good morning, sorry to bother you, but I’ve got some quite shit news….”

Here is what runs through my head in the next 10 seconds:

He cheated,

It’s real

We broke up

He isn’t attracted to me anymore (yes, he actually said this)

Am I really that fat?

I think I have a pretty face

Must go to the gym today

I have to work

Please don’t cry at my desk again.

I want my Mum

Would Holly marry me?

How did he do that?

It’s real

It’s real

It’s REAL.

I wish I wasn’t sad

The day wears on, I go to work, it rains, I laugh a few times which was really nice, and my friend Laura from work buys me Miso soup (I have only just started eating again and it was DE -LISH.) It turns out Vodka isn’t the breakfast (or lunch or dinner) of champions, it’s the breakfast of the broken hearted. I really had to get on.

I heard that He had gone through two bottles of Whiskey and other various things over the weekend, that’s a mammoth effort even for him “Hello path of destruction, I might take a stroll if you wouldn’t mind.”

I have to mention here that my girlfriends Holly, Ella, Jessica and my sister Chloe saved my life on that awful day. They ditched work, let me cry, fed me Vodka, took it away again,  packed me up, and then installed me in the spare cupboard at Chloe and Jessica’s flat – even though I’m horribly anally retentive to live with, and bossy.

Chloe is the best sister ever. For a few days I felt like I could breathe again with her by my side, she was the only person I wanted to talk to. I even suggested she try and work remotely and come and sit at my desk with me…a completely unrealistic request – the wonderful thing is that she tried to make it happen, no questions asked.