I can't seem to stop talking about "pulling", much as I loathe both the expression and the concept. I've long known this is a problem of mine, but when someone else points out that I do it, it's definitely time to nip this habit in the bud and apologise. So, sorry and apologies also to anyone who enjoyed hearing sordid vagueries* from my direction.

* Booers, why doesn't this seem to be an actual word?

What follows may well constitute too much information.

I know why I end up dwelling on the matter. Obviously, I enjoy what brief liaisons I choose to indulge in, on account of the intellectual stimulation I get from the resulting adventure and accompanying emotional intensity, as well as, yeah, the other sort of stimulation*. And presently that level of enjoyment is hard to match through other methods that have worked in the past, such as the sort of gang activity mentioned in the previous entry and discussing Maths (though pretend I didn't really just compare sex and Maths, ok?) as I currently have neither gang nor degree. Much as I like reading and writing, I understandably prefer drama in real life. Further, my hormones, troubles and society dictate I should search for a partner, so, on account of my being too picky and free-spirited to wish to settle for one person (though I'm sure I will when the time is right), I find myself on a quest for a more rock'n'roll existence. And since I'm convinced I'm utterly unattractive to everyone, when people occasionally find me otherwise, it strikes me as rather flattering and novel.

* And yes, sadly, talking about dodginess is a great way of exercising my thoroughly puerile sense of humour.

And appreciably, I'm proud of myself for reaching a point in my life where I can have pleasant no-strings-attached encounters. After being completely ignored by the opposite gender until I was seventeen, the involvement I found myself in caused horrendous damage to my confidence in myself and others and the start of the subsequent one didn't help either. (Despite Bryn and myself spending practically every minute together and him visiting me in the Christmas holidays and saying he loved me, it took four months and an ultimatum before he made a commitment, due to his wanting to be single and hoping that his ex would reconsider her decision.) If these hadn't been my first two "relationships", they wouldn't have affected me much - I'd have just written both parties off as prats - but as it was, I came to think I just had to put up with it and that I didn't deserve any better. Yet I didn't recover from the wounds; they remained open and for a long time I still got attached to people altogether too easily and every unwitting slight hurt immensely.

Increasingly, though, I'm pragmatic about what I'd once have seen as rejection and "reject" myself with equal regularity. I don't let people treat me badly; I'm simply fine with the fact that someone may like and fancy me, but not want an involvement. There are lots of possible and good reasons for this - well, the latter part anyway, as I honestly can't imagine why anyone would find me attractive in the first place. But I probably don't have a characteristic that puts everyone off entirely, and even if I do, it matters not as it seems I like being single anyway.

I know coming to this way of thinking isn't entirely my own doing or necessarily a good thing. I allowed myself to admit I'd fallen out of love with Bryn, and later stopped thinking there was something wrong with me for doing so, and that he might, in fact, have been a bit rubbish all along. Certainly not in every way, and I'm hardly innocent of this myself, but I was able to cease the hero-worship. And the aftermath of the one-night-stand I had in August was a test: I knew it was best to leave it at that, but did I feel that way? It took some intense soul-searching (while I was supposed to be writing my dissertation) to convince myself. But occasionally, the knowledge that someone who would be unquestionably loyal has fallen for me is a source of comfort, and I wonder if I'm now so convinced everyone's a muppet that I might one day turn my back on a good thing. Still, whatever the cause and effects of my attitude adjustment, for now I'm glad of it.

But anyway. I know I need to stop thinking about it, because it's not only annoying but PLAIN SILLY. Hoping to attract will prevent it from happening anyway due to Sod's Law governing my existence, but moreover, for me, the successful conquest is absolutely not a matter of "finding someone who likes me". No! The experience's most fundamental component is the surprise realisation of "Good God, I really like this guy and he seems to like me too!" More to the point, though, I shall not depend on the unpredictable whims of males for joy and entertainment. It is foolhardy and simple; the feminist movement needs all the help it can get; and there are more important things to seek in life. There are other paths to happiness, even without the aid of a gang or mathematical career. I shall savour the sweet scent of the spring air, listen to Venom first thing in the morning and conduct scientific experiments on the unsuspecting public.

Happily, going out without ulterior motive is working nicely so far. Now I just need to stop celebrating success in this area. Having an online journal doesn't really help in this regard, as you find yourself on a bit of mission to prove how interesting your life is. But no matter: I shall learn once more to find intrigue in less explicit activities and turn my mind to higher matters, such as Mount Everest and Howard Marks, both of which are renouned for being high.