Etiquette of the mini-adventure

Delicious mini-adventure yesterday evening. Lovely.

However, I prefer to wake up alone, having spread myself out like a starfish in the bed for quality sleeping.

I think that it may have been taken as rude when I virtually kicked him out at 5.25 this morning, but I needed my sleep. On my own.

He was both bemused and grumpy about it. This was nice as a lot of blokes basically bolt for the door as soon as they think even a half-decent amount of time has lapsed, but I wanted him gone. Not that he isn't perfectly charming, he is, but sleep is my constant friend and companion and it would take a lot for me to foresake it.

I suppose my question here is: how do you politely broker the exit without seeming either cavalierly dismissive or sluttish?

Hail Fellow Well Met

Down the country this weekend with gang of friends, which was great, drunken and giddy and managed to slip in a mini-adventure with guest of one of the core crew.

Not awkward as I haven't met this bloke before and am unlikely to again. So no fall-out. Sigh. Ideal.

Am confused about utter and unique lack of residual guilt and self-loathing (Many thanks again for Catholic upbringing. Helpful. Very. Or not. Whatever.). Am putting it down to the fact that I spent the following afternoon in the company of three very charming, but me-gay individuals who are partial to the mini-adventures themselves and refused to let me navel gaze.

Loving their work.

That and the fact that when I tentatively put it out there to Sinead that I was feeling a shade embarrassed at lack of discretion - or follow through after - she accurately (and helpfully) pointed out that my what I was really feeling guilty about was my lack of guilt. Double negative = positive.

Slow boat to China friend for a reason.

Ambushed by technology

Recently set up facebook account/profile/whatever-you-young-people-are-calling-it-these-days and found that if I didn't post a picture that a ruddy great question mark stood in for me.

I have enough issues with self-identity without this, so I got a normal enough pic of mine and slapped it up on the site.

Except now, it is an odd purple, with no other colour in it than white.

Not quite sure how I managed this.

However, I now look like an unfortunate combination of odd looking and oddly arty. But in a really bad way.

The kind of bad live art performance that when you have to sit through it you feel like poking your eyes out and stuffing them in your ears so that you won't have to go through any more of this muck.

I am the Damian Hirst in my own life. Except less expensive.