Love, dating and my sad, pathetic life.

For those who are new to this blog. Hello. I'm Jack. I'm 18 and I'm married to Shannen Doherty from the original Beverly Hills, 90210 with three kids. Well, this is not strictly true, although the essay I wrote when I was ten predicted I'd be married to a woman by 21, have a son at 24 and twin girls by the time I'm 30. Alas, I am a gay dude who's Facebook relationship status is single, and I have two years to find and marry Shannen Doherty.

Despite my desperation to find Zayn Malik, I've only ever had two gay relationships. One ended before coming to university last Summer, and the other with vodka (we're on a break, after what I can only describe as the worst hangover ever, sent from Hell) (I assume vodka is a boy, because it's so damn delicious). Because of my break-up with a boy I thought I'd be with for a long time ended, my bed has become my loving husband, and Netflix my harsh dominatrix of a mistress, demanding I devote all my time to watching The Hills and Jerseylicious (don't judge me).

The problem is I've not been a very good dater. The other night I decided to take someone out on a date. I was in charge of location, time, etc. and to be quite honest, it was lovely. We went for street food in Camden, followed by a cupcake accompanied walk to Primrose Hill, where we enjoyed hot chocolate and a chat, with the most amazing view of the London skyline. But now I don't know what to do or what to say.

I've spent nearly my entire teenage years in relationships with Troy Bolton, Justin Timberlake and Zack Morris from Saved by the Bell. My teenage years are almost over. I want to find someone that I can be myself around, have sexy times with, and do crosswords with whilst drinking a bottle of red. I really don't think I'll find this relationship in SoHo on a night out with my girls and gays. The only relationship you'll form from a night out in SoHo is with gonorrhea.

My problem is obvious. I'm not making the most of what I get. Cupid shoots the arrows and I go to surgically remove them. But I think this applies to all gay men. I've had two sexual experiences since coming to university. One of them included me bringing someone back to mine. It was just before Christmas and I really liked this person. I even cooked him oven chips for Christ's sake. If that doesn't scream true love, then I don't know what does. After getting the undercooked crumbs of the McCoys oven chips all over my sheets, we got a little frisky and had the best sleep ever resulting in a late for lecture fiasco with a quick digit exchange. After that, I didn't hear from him, and he didn't hear from me (if you're reading this, it's a bit fucking late now, and my apologies for not texting you). Maybe it's just my destiny to become a cat lady, which is fine and dandy with me because I spend 20% of my time youtubing cat videos, and another 20% looking for cat GIFS on tumblr. That's 40% guys. 40%.

This sad and pathetic blog posts calls for an intervention. I, Jack Rattenbury, am going to go on a second date this week. It's what Dame Lauren Conrad would want.

Remember, remember, the fifth of November

HAPPY BONFIRE NIGHT. Although is that correct? 'Happy bonfire night'? Is that a saying?

ANYWAY...

Tonight I went to Primrose Hill in Regents Park to look over the London skyline and it was so cute. Although we left after fifteen minutes because it was so fucking cold. I absolutely adore winter. The snow, the ice-skating, the Starbucks dates, etc. It's my favourite season, but I am the coldest person in the whole world. I need at least 5 layers on before I feel comfortable let alone warm. We then went to KFC (naturally) and I had a chicken popcorn snack box and these spicy chicken things that ended up not being that spicy. It was still beautiful.

Hopefully NONE of my family members have found this blog, and if any of you are reading, please stop or you don't love me and I will die (really I will, its the Jack's family reading his blog curse) (I will die).

I had a one night stand last night which is completely unlike me. It was with this boy I have never met properly but we'd been talking on Facebook. Before someone complains about how dangerous this is. He lives in the same Halls as me and we had met briefly on freshers week. Now I feel awkward because we haven't talked since. He wasn't the best mind you, but what if I wasn't good? My reputation is on the line here. I guess we both just had needs that needed sorting out and holes that needed filling (pun not intended, but rather good) (feel as if I should delete that sentence) (not going to). So maybe I'm just thinking about it too much., or too little. AH HELP. Need therapy.

-Jack