Taking a tumble... and drama, drama, drama

On Monday night I had a once in a lifetime experience (and no, that is not necessarily a good thing... just something I'll probably NEVER EVER do again). I went speed dating... yes you read that correctly... S.P.E.E.D. dating. The evening was immense fun, but that is purely due to the fact that I went with 3 girl-friends. The four of us are all single and thought this would, at the very least, be a fun experience.

ANYWAY, we arrived at the venue about 15 minutes early (as requested by the organisers) and got ourselves some drinks (mostly to settle the nerves) , all the while being eyed out by the 'men' sitting at the bar... these are the same 'men' we were to be dating shortly afterwards. All the ladies (all 11 of us) were seated one per table armed with a pen and paper. The men (all 6 of them) arrive taking up their positions and the evenings events are explained. We get 3 minutes in total to talk to eachother before the men are ushered on and moved to the next table. Only 3 minutes you say, for most of them we managed to fill that time easily, but when you are confronted with someone who answers every question in one-word-answers then those 3 minutes feel like a lifetime.

As you may have guessed there were NO real prospects, well at least not for us, I hope that some of the other woman there managed to find someone that they would like to see again, but for the 4 of us... NOT A CHANCE. The 1 hour worth of 'dating' was then followed by a meal (lamb and fillet and chicken skewers with veggies and potato wedges... followed by a delicious chocolate fondue). However, when you are flirting more with the waiters than the prospective dates you know the evening aint going well.

The highlight (or lowlight as it may be) was my glorious tumble down a flight of stairs... luckily no-one was there to witness the spectacular feat. This happened on one of my bathroom trips and while I was stone-cold sober. As I started down the stairs I managed 2 steps and as I took the third my heel BROKE... my favorite pair of shoes... BROKEN. So now I have some lovely reminders of the evening, a ginormous bruise on my hip and knee and a twisted ankle.

As for the DRAMA... which seems to be the trend in my entries lately... the BEFH has now completely gone over the edge. I will not divulge the details here but he definitely needs help. He has hit absolute rock bottom, and I am convinced he is trying to pull me down with him. There is nothing more that I can do... I am exhausted, done, finished. I can and will no longer be made to feel responsible for him (and by that I mean responsible for finding him help). I had a chat with his mother now and have filled her in as much as I can and told her that she now needs to sort her son out. After the latest incident I no longer WANT him around me or my children (even though he has once again done the "I don't/won't see them again" thing).

I know I never asked for this (or otherwise I am being punished for something I did in a past life). At least this time round I am not doing this alone and was on the phone with my mom again tonight. I really don't know what it had to come to this for me to realise that I always had her there for me, but I never asked before.

And to top all of this off, we had clients/colleagues down from Copenhagen for the last 3 days, which has required me to be bright and perky and alert for meeting after meeting after meeting.

Right now I need sleep, so that is it from me for now.