Am I the kiss of death for Serbian tennis??

Maybe it would be better for Serbia if I just stopped supporting their tennis players.

Why?

Both Ana Ivanovic and Novak Djokovic have already made their exits from the Wimbledon Championships, being held just a few miles away from where I live. Unsurprisingly, I was supporting Ana for the women's title, and Novak for the men's. They both have excellent records; Novak won the Australian Open earlier this year, and went into the championships ranked #3 in the world; Ana won Roland Garros this year and went in ranked #1 in the world. Yet they went out in the second and third rounds respectively.

Out of 7 Serbian players to enter the singles draw, only 2 remain - Janko Tipsarevic and Jelena Jankovic, both of whom are yet to play their third round matches. I'm seriously considering not watching the matches tomorrow in case I'm some kind of curse for Serbian tennis. I still am not yet ready to accept the fact that Novak is out of the championships, and I'm deeply bitter towards Marat Safin, who beat him in straight sets (6-4, 7-6, 6-2). Everytime I see Safin on TV, I end up shouting "Idi do djavola" or something even less restrained at him in Serbian. Mrzim te, Marat.

Anyway, when it comes to the US Open later this year, I hope that the thousands of miles of distance between myself and the tournament will break my support curse. On that note, I'll leave you with another picture of Novak, for good measure.

В жизни, не всё так просто.

Urghhhhhhhhhhhhh.

Friday was so not my best idea. Just really not, no no no no bad. I'm currently hiding from the world. My bed is the best place for me right now. Phone switched off, ignoring facebook. Friday night really made me realise the true appeal of a sad life all by my lonesome. I'm not sure if I am quite ready to admit (to myself, never mind others) what happened.

Actually, I am being far too melodramatic about this. It wasn't so bad. (Or if it is, i'm not quite ready to face it yet.)

But let's just say it involved extreme stupidity on my part. And I wasn't even drunk. Crap.

The one thing that gives me hope: NOVAK IS IN LONDON.

(Yes, I will use any excuse to go Novak photo-searching on google :D)

Breakthrough? I doubt it.

So tonight, I am tearing myself away from Eclipse to go out at night for the first time in...months? Finally (nearly) free from exams, I am actually going out, and breaking my lonely pattern of spinsterhood. To be fair, it isn't a great leap. I promised my friend I would go about 2 months ago...and now I am beginning to wonder if I shouldn't have, in order to stay at home and read about Edward some more.

But, no, I am braving the outside world. The best outcome for tonight would be for me not to run into any of my exes (or end up in hospital, as I frequently do, not unlike Bella). But that kind of luck is usually beyond me, so I am not very hopeful. (Also I know that at least one of them is on the guestlist, horror). Equally, I do not think I will be bumping into my Edward tonight, whoever and wherever he may be. But at least i'm leaving the house. Baby steps.

Somehow I don't think imaginary relationships are normal.

...but I might be wrong. Please, please, someone admit to also having imaginary relationships, so I know that I'm not alone.

Sometimes I've met the subjects of my imaginary relationships. Sometimes they're fictional characters (yes, Edward. How did you know?). But I'm mildly worried that this shows a distinct lack of sanity on my behalf, not to mention a deeper slide into the black hole of spinsterhood.

Just for my own satisfaction (and to avoid revision for GCSE Science), I've compiled a list of my current "imaginary relationships".

EDWARD CULLEN

What a surprise...Yes, he may be a fictional vampire, but he's hot, and sweet, and so...perfect. And I want to be Bella. I will be Bella. Don't tell me otherwise.

NOVAK DJOKOVIC

The subject of my last posting. I love him. I am constantly in awe of his co-ordination and gymnast-icity (he can do the splits!). If I attempted to do any of the things he does on court, I'd end up in hospital for a month. I wish I were the trophy he kissed after winning the Australian Open. I'm plotting to see if I can try and run into him when he's in London for Wimbledon next week, my plan is just to camp out around the tennis club for two weeks. Wish me luck.

MR HANAK

He's my Austrian maths teacher, and the only one on this list who I actually know. My friend says he has a receding hairline but she is wrong, dammit! Plus he looks about 19, even if he isn't really. I have embarrased both myself and him by asking him for help with German homework (I asked him how to say "If my friend were anorexic, I'd help her"...cringe.) I think he's mildly scared of me. Unsurprisingly, there are no photos of him on google, but weirdly I found this: http://www.ecml.at/documents/relresearch/projectseminarDN.pdf, which he co-wrote, and there's a photo in there somewhere of him with "the team" (he's wearing the red tie).

MARK RONSON

He's just too cool. And so smooth, and wow.

HOUSE

He may be three times my age, but I really don't care. He is just so sexy. I think it's the combination of sarcasm, cynicism, bitterness and pessimism that does it for me. Hot.

LOGAN HUNTZBERGER

Why didn't Rory marry him? Whyyy?? Marry me instead, Logan.

I think 6 imaginary relationships is enough for now. Until I find a real one... That is, if anyone's mad enough to have me after these online ramblings...

Novak Djoković is my Edward Cullen. Maybe.

I love him.

(Or in his native tongue, ja ga volim)

That is all I can say, really.

Not to mention how smooth he is here:

Okay, I know what you're thinking. But at least he's a REAL PERSON, ok?

Noam Chomsky doesn't help spinsterhood.

Sunday morning. Near hangover but not quite. Made the mistake of pouring boiling water on my hand when getting coffee this morning. Am now back in bed, alone with my laptop and coffee, contemplating my spinsterhood.

I have two options.

1) Embrace spinsterhood. Lie in bed, wallowing for the rest of my life. This is a very tempting offer, but also deeply depressing.

2) Bury my head in the sand. Keep reading 'Twilight' over and over, pretending to be Bella and thinking that one day, a hot vampire will save me (after writing that, a wave of feminism washed over me. Then the impending spinsterhood feeling returned). Try to distract myself.

Chomsky is not a good distraction. The evils of America, propaganda and the ruling elite are all very interesting, but Noam is not enough to save me from a spinster's life. Instead I keep thinking of Edward, and wondering when Diagnosis Murder will be on BBC1.

What is happening to me?? I am still so young...

A list of Majors is sitting beside me. I have 18 options. Help.