What The Hell Is Going On With You Guys?

I think I mentioned in one of my earlier posts that I don’t do relationships. I tried it, the relationship thing, back in the Dark Ages when I still believed in all that crap. I tried it for long enough to know that it sucks. Big Time.

But that isn't to say I've taken a vow of chastity. A girl needs a little r&r, you know? What it does mean is that any guy who wants the full Sara experience has to wise up to my rules; no getting heavy, no mushy stuff, definitely no meeting the parents, and when it's over, it's over. And that's that. No looking back, no emotional mayhem, no pissing about. Since I haven't got the longest attention span, over can happen anywhere between a few hours to a month or so. It really depends on the quality of the material I've got to work with.

In the last couple of months I've come the closest ever to becoming a born-again virgin. I kind of totally went off the idea of men, thanks to Johnny (read my earlier posts if you want the skinny on that one), so I've been keeping myself to myself. I just haven't had the patience for it.

Last night I'm doing my usual shift at the club when the most beautiful guy walks up to the bar and orders a vodka. I was like, hello. It turns out that not only is he hot he's also bloody brains on toast - and there's nothing more likely to get me interested than that. A guy who can quote Pixie's lyrics and Camus? Coupland and e.e.cummings? In one conversation? I mean, fuck, there was no way he was going home alone.

So I make him wait until the club closes and invite myself back to his place. If I'm going to get back into the saddle, I want to do it in style, you know? We get back to his flat, it's nice, we smoke a spliff, drink some wine, listen to some music, chill out a bit, all the usual stuff. Then we snog. I'm thinking, yeah, OK, here we go.

Until, that is, we get to a critical point in the proceedings and he pushes me away. I'm like, is there something wrong? Thinking, oh great, just my luck, here's where he announces he's got crabs or something equally unappetising. But he goes, Sara, I really like you. I'm like, cool, that's great, let's get on with it. And then he says, Sara, I like you too much to have sex with you right now. I only just met you. Let's take this slow.

I mean, WHAT?

When was it that guys turned into girls? How did this happen without me noticing? Just when I thought I had men all figured out, you only go and move the fucking goalposts.

Answers on a postcard, please.