a2 + b2 = rebound?

Firstly, I am currently invigilating a GCSE mathematics exam, and I’m writing this on a piece of kitchen paper which was given to me to clean the white board at the end. This was given to me by a male member of staff. It seems that I look like a Stepford wife. Nice to see that stereotypes still exist.

However, we are not here to read about that. No, we want gossip. Let’s crack on!

Last night I went for a very platonic dinner with my future housemate, who we shall call PE guy as, well, he’s a PE teacher. During dinner Hot Tub guy sent me a text message asking what I was up to. I told him. I’m yet to receive a message back nearly 24 hours later.

I also received a message from Lawyer guy who asked if he could phone me at half 8. I read this at 8.15 and was still stuffing food into my mouth, so I postponed it.

Eventually I made it home and he called me. We spoke for 2 hours and 5 minutes. That’s quite a long time. We spoke about work; he specifically works for a homeless charity and helps homeless people do…erm…stuff. I was impressed when he told me that he only earns a little more than a newly qualified teacher. He said that he could have gone down the route in which he would make silly money, but he likes that his job is very moral, despite it being based in law.

We then went on to speak about why he mentioned his ex a few times. In my brash manner, I was the one to bring it up. He had said that he had taken her to the airport. I’d like to be on good terms with my ex, but even then I doubt he would take me to the airport. He owns the house and car with her, and they’re sharing them at the moment.  He’s newly single which then makes me question myself. I am the rebound? I supposed Maths Guy was my rebound. Then again, once you fall off a horse you should get back on it. I’m sure there’s a nicer way of phrasing that.

Continuing on with the conversation (don’t worry, I won’t transcribe it for you) he said that he was really happy that we’re back in contact because I’m really ‘pretty’ and ‘intelligent’. That was a nice little ego boost for me. Ta hun! Pretty? I’ll have to cover that spot on my cheek pretty well on Saturday if I don’t want to shatter his illusions. It’s massive, and it won’t bloody go!

From what I can remember of him (not to mention some light Facebook stalking) he’s quite the pretty boy. This isn’t really my type. Then again, I don’t think I have a type. Let’s explore:

The Ex:

Funny

Intelligent

Maths Guy:

Intelligent

John Rocha saucepans

Dreadlock Guy (unofficial, but if I hadn’t known him before, then I probably would be interested):

Intelligent

Charismatic

Hot Tub Guy:

Rock and roll (his body is covered in tattoos of gravestones and band logos)

Intelligent

Lawyer Guy:

A good conversationalist

Intelligent

So, it appears that I do have type. Intelligence seems quite important to me.

Anyway, back to the pretty boy thing. I’ve always found that pretty boys are quite arrogant and have the ‘fit but don’t you just know it?’ syndrome. Therefore, I tend to steer away from them. Not only do they seem full of themselves, they probably expect me to look like a Hollyoaks girl, and no doubt they spend longer getting ready than I do. And as my closest friends know, that’s a long time. About the same time that I spent on the phone with Lawyer Guy.  

We’ve been texting in quite a flirtatious manner; lots of innuendos. It brings me back to being 14, although when I was 14 I didn’t actually understand the innuendos. Dating wasn’t a big thing when I was 14. Of course I had a thing for boy bands with their curtain hairstyles (Ben Adams, I’m looking at you) but that was it.

At 14 we were not allowed to even wear make up to school. I remember once I wore some clear mascara. I should say that clear mascara does absolutely nothing to your eyelashes, yet I was petrified of the hard hitting, make you cry in 5 seconds, sarcastic Deputy Head. He never noticed. I had won that battle.

But secondary school girls now look like they’re ready to fall out of a nightclub at 3am whilst a guy they’ve only just met is ‘protecting them from the cold’. This means that they’re actually trying to get a feel of the padded bra.

I feel quite sorry for the girls. How times have changed! I just couldn’t be bothered to make that much effort for school or college with make up. Who am I kidding? I couldn’t be bothered with the education either! Sure did have to make up for a lot of those lost years! I did manage my C grade in maths. I was told it would be the end of the world if I didn’t have that squiggle on my EdExcel certificate.

And that links in nicely to the end of this blog, as I am in a maths exam, and I have run out of kitchen paper. So, a Jerry Springer ‘final thoughts’ type moment: I think I’m a rebound and remember to wear sunscreen.