Posts Tagged ‘Giraffe’

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fight or flight.

September 13, 2009

Tonight I met up with Adam to wish him well as he moves back home to Devon, and we went to Cabot Circus for some drinks at Giraffe and a meal at Gourmet Burger Kitchen.  Walking into Cabot Circus, I bumped into my friend Annie who works at Harvey Nichols; we exchanged pleasantries and enquired about each others jobs – the usual.  As I said goodbye to her, I walked along towards the Cabot entrance by Zara, and I saw what suspiciously looked like a group of my old colleagues from the Perfume Shop.  After the untruths that they have been telling both themselves and other people, I really have nothing to say to them so I turned around and walked into Cabot the other way.  Walking back past Annie, I said to her “actually, this way is quicker!”  She laughed, my excuse was made so that I didn’t look totally bizarre, and I met Adam, positioned overlooking the escalators so I could hide should the Perfume Shop crew be approaching my direction.

This is the second time recently that I have had this sort of reaction: to want to actively avoid certain people.  It happened when I was in Zara with Hannah and my ex L was at the till, and it happened tonight.  In both cases, I turned around and walked the other way.  Was this the right response?  After all, I have nothing to be ashamed of: I never meant to hurt L the way that I did, and it was his choice not to accept or to believe my apology and explanation for what happened.  I never stole anything from the Perfume Shop, and I never gave discount to anyone I didn’t know, no matter what they say.  I don’t feel any guilt, and there is no reason for me to be ashamed.  So why did I walk away?

It was the fight or flight response.  In each case, I made a very swift judgement call, and in both cases my brain told me to get out of there.  Part of me resents that; like I said, I don’t have anything to feel ashamed for, so why should I leave? Why should I run away?  Isn’t it the stronger thing, the better thing to stand there and fight and show that I’m not going to be cowed or intimidated by anyone?  That I believe in my own convictions?

But nevertheless, I chose to avoid the confrontation.  Perhaps it is just easier to get out of there; to avoid things being said that might worsen the situation, to get into an uncomfortable exchange that might only leave an unpleasant aftertaste more bitter than that which lingers already.  Although part of me feels that I should stand my ground, another part feels that the more mature thing is just to rise above it and conduct my life along a different path.  I have plenty of my own shit to focus on without dealing with other people’s shit.  I don’t need to deliberately put myself in the vicinity of their insecurities and problems, because even if I have no reason to run away, it doesn’t mean I should purposely seek out such a confrontation.  I had a lovely evening tonight, and had I approached my old colleagues, that could very well have been ruined before it had even started.  So even if I should have been unashamed to stand my ground, I stand by my decision to choose a more positive alternative and bypass the negativity altogether.  Avoiding a toxic situation is preferable to fighting poison, because even in fighting it you risk becoming poisoned yourself.  Sometimes we have to choose our fights, and whether it’s best to fight on, or to fly high; this time, I chose to fly high.

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so sexy.

September 3, 2009

Tonight I have had sort of 10 cocktails & far too much food, so I’m not feeling at my intellectual peak.  However, I’m going to blog anyway!  As much as I’m feeling buzzed off the alcohol and also off having had a lovely evening with my friends, I do have something to say.  We were at Giraffe in Cabot Circus from 4:30 until 6:15ish drinking drinking drinking, and Karina has a friend who works there.  I will save his embarrassment because I don’t actually know how to spell his name, but he was foreign and incredibly cute (and talkative too!).  And perhaps it is part of the whole façade mentality that I have, where you have to project the best possible image and attitude of yourself at all times, but I found myself trying my hardest to be cool and aloof and funny all at once.  He probably didn’t even notice, but it seems to be a “flirt autopilot” with me.

And then, at Frankie & Benny’s (where we consumed all of the aforementioned food), a group of guys came in while we were eating dessert (cinnamon waffle crunch mmm-mmm), and my head nearly span off its axis.  Again, I blame the drink, but I can’t help but notice when someone is attractive to me.  Normally, I try to act as nonchalant as possible, because I don’t expect any comeback off it, and it’s just the same as when you know somebody is checking you out, you act as if they don’t exist because you don’t want to call attention to them nor give them the slightest impression that they have a chance or that you think they could possibly be on your level.  I don’t know if it’s a strategy of playing hard to get, or just being as ice-king as possible (I prefer to believe it is the latter), but I would never expect someone to return my stares, and I would never acknowledge anyone’s interest or flirtations with me.  Perhaps it’s just another one of my counterproductive “I want a boyfriend but I refuse to settle for just anyone, but why am I single?” stratagems.

Which gets me to thinking, I have many, many celebrity crushes.  Singers, actors, models, Brazilians, footballers… I have been addicted to them all for many years now.  And perhaps that is why my standards (and the standards of those people who are like me) are so high, perhaps too high… We expect visual perfection.  We expect floss and ice.  We expect the finest things. We expect a heart of gold within a body of sin.  And when we go on dates and take people out, that is what we try and provide to the best of our ability.  But all too often, somewhere along the line our expectations are just too high, and people fall short.  I think it takes two, and perhaps I should be more realistic as much as my date should step up to the plate and put in a bit more effort… but then in real life, after a phase of disappointment, I start to relax my standards and appreciate the “everyman”. Be they scruffy, unshaven, slightly damaged… we become more accepting of flaws before we really stop and think what we are letting ourselves in for.  All too many times while I was working at the Perfume Shop, dates of mine would stop by to meet me after work / during lunch / to say hi, and my friend Henna would always tell me after they left “What are you doing? Did you see how he looked? You could do so much better.”  And ultimately, between immature boyfriends and disinterested players, she’s been proved right every time.  Despite my attraction to guys whom I might more feasibly find in Bristol, and feeling that this attraction is a bit more realistic and accepting of real people’s flaws and quirks… I’m disappointed every time, so I go back to the high celebrity standards and looking out for those model-ready rich boys.  And the cycle begins again.

I’m not really sure what I’m trying to say in this post, beyond a dual acknowledgement of the hotness of so many guys in the Bristol area (the genuinely hot and the somewhat hot), and the fact that so few are truly eligible for me, be it because of the flirting games and unspoken protocols that exist or because I put up with too much shit before realising it can’t go on.  If Karina’s friend wants to call me, he definitely can 😉  But you know, I’m sure that it wouldn’t work.  And that’s more than just the alcohol talking.