Yesterday was a good day, until the evening. I went to a seminar which had been arranged by a club I sit on the committee of.
Straight after work, I had been to see a friends new baby, which meant I had dinner later than normal and put my routine out of whack (as you know when this happens it can often be a trigger).
When I got home from seeing the baby, I over-ate on homemade pizza, because I was so hungry, which made me feel guilty, but nothing I couldn’t deal with.
I went to the seminar, which can smoothly. At the end, cake and drinks were offered around, and I couldn’t help myself, I had a big slice of carrot cake with a really thick icing.
As soon as I had eaten it, I knew it was a bad idea. I felt too full, I felt sick, and I felt guilty. I felt like a fat pig, glutinous.
I knew there was only one way to sort it. Purging is interesting, I only do it for two reasons; to get rid of food when I have eaten to much and feel it will make me fatter and therefore it cannot stay in my stomach, and secondly through stress (but that is normally associated with a binge).
I went to the bathroom, and purged the cake. It was awful. Purging makes me feel so deeply upset, so when I had finished I curled up on the floor and cuddled myself, trying to get myself back together. I wiped my eyes, splashed some cold water on my face and tried to make my face less red and puffy.
I looked at though I had been crying but got myself together. I decided to stay in the kitchen, sorting out the washing up. Peter, the husband of another woman on the committee was also in the kitchen.
I think of myself and Peter as friends, but not close friends. There have been a couple of emails between us in the past, from the site LinkedIn. There have been a couple of comments and suggestions made, such as whether I would like to go for a coffee, but I have always brushed over it.
Last night we talked about various things such as my trip to Iceland, and the cottage. He asked me how old I thought he was, and I told him 49. He was actually 46 and thought that was really old, until I told him I went to Iceland with a 45 year old (and we were no longer involved).
So why did I tell him this? Please don’t judge me. I need to be as honest as I can to work out how I work. Perhaps I was trying to show off or act like a big girl. Perhaps I was trying to let him know that I am interested in older men and that it would be okay to come on to me. So here’s the problem – it definitely wouldn’t be okay to come on to me. I don’t find him attractive, he is too old for me, and most importantly he is married. So why am I trying to make him think it is okay?? I have no idea. Answers on a postcard. I suppose it is becoming easy to see how I get myself into trouble.
When I got home, I had received the following email:
Do you honestly think I look 49, do you know what I think you are one
funny lady, I really think you have a wonderful sense of humour and I
do think you are on my wavelength as me. May be day we will get to
have a long chat on our own and at the same time have a bloody good
You should not have the downer on older men, not all of them are dick
heads, only most are!!!!
Now help me please as my borderline is stopping me from being able to understand whether this email is inappropriate, or whether he is just being friendly. I want him to like me, and I don’t want to offend him, but I also don’t want to lead him on.