The Principle Problem

I, in all fariness, am a man of few actual principles. I believe in giving people a fair crack of the whip. If people have had a fair crack and are still fucking idiots, then they deserve all that they get.

I also believe in relative freedom. That is to say, as much freedom as can be achieved realistically in the current world we live in. For example, in the 'First World' (Great Britain, in this case) people are sort of free. Free to buy what they want (if they have the money), work what job they want (if they have the qualifications) and be friends with who they want (which isn't as easy as it sounds). I think even these relatively liberated people could do with being free from fear, though. It's a bit of a bastard, really. Not just the fear of being blown up by a deluded religious zealot, either. Fear of not having the prettiest hair, the most up to date clothes or the hippest music tastes. In this sense, I believe even the 'First World' isn't truly free. Neither can it be (I believe, whether you like it or not, everyone serves somebody or something), but it could be more free than it is right now.

Right. Mini-rant over. Major-rant pending.

So, I am quite bereft of principles in a political, proactive sense. Some people are not, and I think these people should actually respect what they believe in.

I recently became involved with a political female. Without going too deep into the politics, she's a socialist (justice for everyone, no concentrations of power) and a feminist (in the sense that she wants fairness between genders, not some kind of stereotypical 'man hater'). She's involved in an open relationship, therefore quite liberal and 'modern' about relations.

We spoke all night in a scene (albeit edited for time) that wouldn't have looked out of place in a sugary, Hollywood rom-com. We fell asleep in each other's arms, later, out of sight of her friends, and did a little bit of kissin'. All good. In the morning, and later via cellular communication, she told me she couldn't remember meeting anyone like me and really wanted to see me again. Somewhat hampered by the fact that we live 200 miles apart.

An opportunity came up a week later for us to see each other in my current city. I was caught in work but we agreed to catch up over at least a quick drink over a few hours. I text her, asking about it a day before. Nothing. The next day, I tried again. Nothing. One step away from stalking, I contacted her over the internet and got no reply.

The friend who introduced us sighed at these stories. She'd sort of warned me about her, early on, and admitted this was sort of her normal way of dealing with boys and girls.

The girl's principles are an integral part of her life. And yet she played the role of a 1950s adulterer, basically. Finding a piece of eye candy, telling them they're amazing and using them for a while before going back to their relationship.

If she, a revolutionary by her own admission, can sell out her principles by acting like the kind of man part of her political viewpoint is directly against, it sort of explains to me why cunts like Patsy Hewitt can leave the government to line their pockets in private companies (Boots, in this case). I wish I was disappointed, really.