I met up with SF and apologised again.

She accepted the apology, but laid it on thick that, 10 years ago, her 30th was a dreadful night, and that she wanted to do something special for her friends (pay for a booth in an expensive club) for her 40th. My eponymous blog post, which she read, had tainted the experience.

But whatever. It’s done with. What I didn’t explain- it wouldn’t have done any good- is that my friends, and the NHS, have repeatedly told me that I worry too much about what other people think. The reason I worry is, I’m afraid of people falling out with me. It seems that concern is valid. I won’t think through what the consequences of my actions will be, so I’ll either do it and deal with the consequences, or not do anything at all. The latter of these is the root cause of my depression and porn addiction. Worrying too much.

We were out at a club, which had a handful of fit birds in whom, of course, I did not speak to. I have more nights out planned. We’ll see what happens.

I seemingly cannot be a grown up.

As mentioned last week there was a minor fallout over what I’d written on my eponymous blog. A night out was planned for last night, but at the start of the week I realised it clashed with a wedding, so I cancelled it. One friend, RS, asked about the night out of concern.

I’ve got something planned for this Saturday night with the support group, so that’s out.

I did have 3 weeks of work experience lined up, but my employer wasn’t very forward in coming forward, so to speak, so I couldn’t tell if the leave I’d booked had been approved. When I eventually chased it up, it seemed it was, so I went back to the company providing the placement. That placement had already been filled whilst my employer was fucking about, so I’ve now got three weeks of no work. Well, I thought, the positive is I can get some decorating done.

Of course, with the kind of mental problems I have, I need parental assistance with this. But my parents are away AGAIN during the time I’m supposed to be on leave, so I might as well cancel it the next time I’m in work. 90% of this house was decorated in one big push, but for the last 3 months hardly anything has been done because my parents keep gallivanting across the country all the time.

But I don’t wish to sound entitled. FFS.

Oh, it’s all gone off this week.


On my eponymous blog I described going to the pretentious club and getting a table, which was paid for by SF, whose birthday we were celebrating. Much like on here, I slated it. SF, of course, saw the blog post. So did some attendees. I was mercilessly bollocked. I tried to explain that it was the service that I was complaining about, and that what SF was getting for her money wasn’t great. But it obviously hadn’t come across that way. So my friendship with SF, which has been rocky for some years I feel, is now more so. We’ve agreed to put this incident behind us.

I’m out at the weekend with SF and a few others, so it will be interesting to see how things go. I’ve apologised already- I may need to do again.

I may also need to try new ways of meeting people, different to the cavalcade of ways I’ve already tried.

Shock: I drank again at the weekend.


Managed to not go paranoid and feel utterly worthless like in the previous blog post.

I did go to another pretentious, overpriced bar full of wannabe footballer’s wives. SF’s choice. I even made a few approaches- I was steadfastly ignored every time. I hate to say I told you so… That said, a lot of the girls in there were wearing expensive dresses with fake hair, looking glamorous, but when you get up close, under the dim ever-changing club lights, you realise she isn’t anything special.

After spending a small fortune, including use of a table and drinks service, none of us got into the club’s Facebook album. Ridiculous.

Had a wobble this weekend.


Was out all Saturday. Drank too much. Ended in Theatre Impossible, a place I’ve frankly had enough of. Full of beautiful women but I never feel right about talking to any of them. It’s another overpriced, pretentious club playing shit hip hop that I can’t be arsed with. I don’t think I’ll ever meet anyone there.

The opportunities were there in abundance, though- women outnumbered men. My friends were encouraging me, but I couldn’t do it. I think too much alcohol may have been a factor. I gave up and went home eventually, crawling in to bed in tears. I started out with so much confidence, and ended so void of it.

I probably should have just gone out at night and driven. What else can you do?

Well, you can book a doctors appointment. My surgery’s next appointment was in August, on a day when I’m in work. I work part time, so I picked it for an off day: the 19th. 6 weeks away. And what’s he going to tell me? I’ve already been in therapy 4 times. I’ve already tried 3 type of medication, the latest of which I’ve doubled my dose.

Part of me wants to go teetotal- it’s not appropriate for someone of my condition to be drinking a lot. It just leads to problems. Part of me knows, though, that I’ve been trying this since I was 18. Alcohol is part of socialising. It’s a ballache not to. But I do drive a lot on nights out, skipping alcohol entirely.

Very little has happened over the last few weekends due to everyone being broke. Going to try other things to stay social- different groups and activities.

Back to Long Legs

After moving house I decided the time was right to treat myself to a trip to Long Legs. The strip club has the best looking women out of all the strip clubs in Manchester, and is really the only one I’d go to these days.

I’d driven into town just after 10pm parking in the Northern Quarter, intending to have a wander before going into the Chinatown club. I took a detour past Silks, which appeared to be shut. I’ve just read it’s licence was suspended in 2017.  On the way I bumped into schoolmate AE, who was having a bit of a reunion with some of our year in The Slug and Lettuce on Albert Square. Also there was AQ, who was my best mate in school but I lost touch with in around ’06 due to him being a permanently weird bastard, doing endless Columbo impressions and generally being a massive cockblock.

I left them as they weren’t staying late, told them I was going to film some fights and send them to the M.E.N, which wasn’t a total lie- I would have done if I’d have seen any. I got into Long Legs at quarter past 11; it was busy but there weren’t many girls. I got talking to one blonde scouser with fake but appealing boobs. I asked why so many scousers worked in lap dancing clubs in Manchester- it’s so nobody knows them. Pretty obvious when you think about it. I asked about a 2-girl dance- she said I could go upstairs for £140 and get some kind of special dance, but I said I didn’t have the money. So a ‘naughty 40’ it was. I picked another blonde with big tits and they gave me a nice dance, albeit a short one. They touched each other and got naked- lots of breast groping and ass slapping, but to go any further they still wanted VIP money.

I might go back and do that one day. Maybe after I’ve lost a bit of weight and can fit into my suit again. Will need to stop mullering Galaxy chocolate bars though, therein lying the problem.