No More Taxis, No More Evening Standard and Plastic Surgery: My New Year's Resolutions 2012
Last January it was brought to my spinning attention that I was neglecting good friends in favour of increasingly dubious one night stands. Missed calls from former uni chums were neatly archiving themselves in my phone unnoticed whilst bed sheets were being laundered and toilet rolls replaced so rapidly in my apartment that Premier Inn looked into buying me out.
So when a boy I met in Heaven left my front door open at 3am (stealing enroute via the living room my Oyster, my phone charger, a lighter and a scarf belonging to the boy from the night before) I realised that my friends were right and so I adopted the 2011 New Year’s Resolution “STOP SLEEPING WITH TW*TS”. I wrote this blog post about twelve months ago on the subject called Bros Before Hoes.
One year on I am pleased to announce that “STOP SLEEPING WITH TW*TS” was a success. I’m still cool with one night stands, I just try to make more considered choices. Anyone like me who goes in for a bit of recreational sex is always going to make a few mistakes, like the guy who stubbed his cigarette out in an open pot of moisturiser, the guy who somehow managed to smash two wine bottles against the side of my bath tub, the guy who slung a used condom against my bookcase and the “media studies” student I met at a Little Mix PA who said “If you wanted to be a journalist why did you study English? Why didn’t you study media or journalism?” and was then sick all over my shoe rack.
But generally speaking it was a tw*t-free year. No text message plaguers, no angry women on doorsteps, no bare backing pests, no thieves and only one minor stalker. I only visited saunas three times last year - once with a curious friend who had never been, once to wash-off the grime of an East London basement party, and once to kill time before a delayed train. I took a friend with me whenever possible on my Heath walks a lot this year too in order to deter the temptations of the male gaze, taking an interest in Hampstead's fauna rather than its fornication. Finally I cut down on Twitter’s addictive Direct Message underworld of half-lies and shapeless lust.
Obviously I let my hair down on holiday, but I used a defence wall of cultured questions for vetting men such as “What’s your favourite Italian opera?” or “Who is your favourite Booker Prize winner?”
Just kidding, I was a total pop-headed slut on holiday.
But I'm happy to admit that I’m not quite there yet. It’s a work in progress.
And so since “STOP SLEEPING WITH TW*TS” is an ongoing roll-over resolution, I’m going easy on myself this year and adopting just three trivial, manageable New Year’s Resolutions for 2012:
1) Only get taxis after 2am
2) Totally ignore the Evening Standard
3) Become an expert on the history of plastic surgery
There are exceptions. For example taxis are always essential in Vauxhall no matter what time of evening, and I love the Evening Standards’ restaurant reviews.
As for the history of plastic surgery, I think it’s healthy to have a pet Mastermind subject each year and I’ve been somewhat inspired by a blue plaque not far from me dedicated to Sir Harold Gillies. Plastic surgery strikes me as a haunting field of interest and I cannot wait to buy some books on the subject. Sorry if you read this blog post thinking that I was planning on going under the surgeon's knife.
So there it is.
I’ll keep you posted.
In the meantime, here’s Chloe with her New Year’s Resolutions:
[Picture at top of post is an artwork by Cindy Sherman]