It’s been quite a while since I last wrote here, but I was abroad for a few days with work and then I typed a long post the other night but the internet crashed before it posted and I couldn’t be bothered to type it all out again.

The situation with Flossy has developed a bit. I found out through housemate Al that she definitely does like me, and that housemate Jess is still trying to set us up – and getting far too carried away with the idea considering that absolutely nothing has happened yet.

We all had a get together tonight and there was the odd comment and not too subtle way of leaving us alone together, but nothing at all happened. I wondered if it might be a bit flirty but it was just like I was chatting with any friend. I don’t know whether things might be different on Sunday when we go out and have a few drinks, but at the minute I just don’t think there’s a spark or anything there.

On one hand I think I should give her a chance because she might turn out to be great. But on the other hand it’s almost as if I don’t care if she could be right for me, I just don’t want to do it right now. And I know I won’t just go along with it and see what happens unless I feel stronger than I do now because I won’t let myself do anything that might mess her around. That’s just not me.

Then there’s another issue too. The issue of the ex (the previous ex, not the most recent on). Me and Tabatha split up over three years ago. She’s a bit younger than me and we were just in different places in life, with different priorities, and it didn’t help that at the end we were living far apart. But we were good friends before, and have remained so afterwards – or at least got back there a year or so after splitting.

She’s one of my best girlie mates and she was a good source of advice when I was having problems with my last girlfriend. Since I’ve been single again we’ve talked more and sort of got closer again, I suppose that’s only natural. But on learning about my situation with Flossy, she declared her surprise that I was ready to move on so quickly, and since then there have been little jokes – or supposedly jokes – from both of us about “us”. She’s had even less luck in love since we split than I have, and there seems to be a mutual, unspoken agreement that we had things better together than we’ve had since.

In fact, the break up with my most recent girlfriend showed me just how much me and Tabatha have in common, and that she still might be a better match for me than anyone else. I’ve also come to think that there is a genuine possibility that something could happen there again, although nothing has been said in seriousness.

But now I find myself spending a lot more time thinking about her than I do about Flossy, who is new and a very definite possibility. Whereas with Flossy I don’t really see a spark yet, and don’t seem to want to let myself give her a chance, I can’t stop thinking about Tabatha. She’s beautiful, and so much fun. We’re just completely “get” each other like I’ve never known with anyone else, and I can’t help thinking that if we had another shot at it, it could be amazing.

But then, she’s an ex – so it must be a bad idea, even I think the reasons things went wrong no longer apply. And if I steer in that direction in any seriousness I could easily find that she is not thinking the same.

So things are just more complicated than they were this time last week, and I still don’t know what to do.

But it’s working, I spent well over an hour going round my new programme in there and I didn’t get bored – which is rare. Then throw in an hour in the (gorgeous outdoor) pool (that will be heaven, and the place I spend all summer, when the nice weather comes) and half an hour soothing my tired body in the spa, and I’ve got a cracking workout sorted.

The only problem is I can’t do it four or five times a week as I planned. Partly because work gets in the way but also partly because my body is just too tired, even to swim, cycle or run, too often and needs more time to recover. I’ll get the hang of it eventually, though.

Oh, and today I also washed my face with hair gel, and forgot to take a change of clothes for when I got out of the swimming pool. I’m not on top form!

Not the Alice Deejay tune from 1999, I mean me.

I've been single for around four months now. Wow, that's actually a lot longer than it feels. I had been in a relationship of a couple of years where we'd got far too serious far too quickly, and had been living together and making plans that career-minded folk in their mid-20s should know better than to start making after only a few months together.

It wasn't all that long before her that I'd got out of another relationship of a couple years, and so it goes on. So I've never really spent much time as just... me.

Now is the perfect time to just be me. I'm back sharing  a house with mates, concentrating on work, and having the freedom to do anything I want. Brilliant. Because I don't really do that when I'm with someone. I tend to get too into relationships and end up voluntarily sacrificing other areas of my life, which I know I shouldn't.... but I can't help it. That's just me. Or at least it was.

I'm free to do whatever I like with my evenings and days off now, and it's great. I was worried that I'd get bored without another half, but I've been pleasantly surprised. I've been able to entertain so many more of my hobbies and passions, and I'm a much happier person for it.

This clearly isn't permanent. I still want to meet someone, fall in love, get married, and have kids, in the reasonably near future. So I figured I'd just go about my business until something, or someone, comes along. And it's a lot easier to find when you're not looking for it anyway!

But now, as there so often is, there's a spanner in the works. One of my new housemate's (let's call her Jess) best friends (hmm, she can be called Flossy), who I've only met three times, has entered the scene. Flossy isn't my usual type (although I don't think that's a bad thing, but I'll come to that another time).

To be honest I hadn't even thought about Flossy in that way until my other housemate (Albert) let slip that Jess had a plan to set me up with her. Psychology is a bugger. Firstly I ask myself whether Flossy has told Jess that she likes me, otherwise the setting up would be a bit pointless. Secondly, it's frustrating how you suddenly think of someone more when someone else puts an idea on the table.

Now I don't know if I like Flossy, it's far too early to tell that. And yes, I could (should, and probably will) just go along with whatever happens and if we end up going out a couple of times to get to know each other better, or whatever, then that's fine.

But knowing my history with women (in a nutshell, getting involved too quickly, falling in love way too quickly... i can fall in love with any pretty girl that i get on with in less than a month - i'm basically a danger to myself) I can't just let whatever will be, be, otherwise I'll wake up in a few weeks having rushed into another relationship. This needs some thought.

The only thought I can muster, however, is indecision. On one hand, I think I really need some 'me' time. Not to figure out who i am, or any of that Dawson's Creek nonsense, but just to enjoy my freedom and get into enough of a routine of living my own individual life that I'll actually maintain some of it next time I do get with someone new.

But what if this Flossy chick turns out to be amazing and I miss the chance to be with someone that I could have been really happy with? She's cute, and fun, and we seem to have quite a bit in common. We seem to get on and she seems sweet. I admit, I don't know her very well yet - there's a greater exploration needed. But for the sake of argument, what if she's brilliant and I let her go by because I'm busy trying to do something that I could very well manage while with someone, if only I could avoid rushing in. That would be pretty silly, wouldn't it? Or is Alice Deejay right, am I just better off alone, for now?

No matter how well you think you've planned something, you just can't win. I mean, nothing is ever just never simple, is it?

I'm in reasonably decent physical condition. I play a lot of sport and gym quite regularly. My diet's not great but I'm fortunate to never have had to put any real effort into maintaining an athletic shape.

But as part of my new life I've decided I want to be able to accomplish some random things, like the London to Brighton charity bike ride next year (56 miles), and a marathon too, and some sort of enormous swim as well - perhaps across the channel (if David Walliams can do it, why can't i?) or if not, then at least that far in a pool. None of this is for any real purpose, just to be able to say I did them more than anything else. And of course it wouldn't hurt if they were for charity or something and actually did someone some good.

So I need to get from decent shape into marathon running, long distance cycling, crazy triathlon, huge swimming type shape. And that's going to require a little bit of commitment.

I decided my rather scattered and directionless attendences and regimes at the gym could do with a bit of organisation this week. Out with only going when I can be bothered, and only doing what I fancy doing each day. In with a plan. Structure, order, discipline... and several other actions words like these. Action words are the key I think.

I devised a light regime (just swimming), a medium (swimming and cardio gym), and a heavy (swim, cardio, and weights), and planned out the week quite carefully. Monday heavy, Tuesday light because I have a football match that evening, Wednesday heavy , thursday light, and friday another heavy one before I go away for the weekend.

But I ended up having to do a lot more work than I planned on Monday and only have time a quick swim. I was free of work on Tuesday so I tried to make up for Monday by doing a bit more, which in turn knackers me out for football. I have a rubbish game and am so sore and fatigued for Wednesday that I can't do anything at all.

But it's alright, I say, I can work at home on Thursday and Friday so there'll be plenty of time to catch up then. Instead, I'm still working away at 8pm both nights and I'm too worn out and frustrated to do anything other than eat and sleep. So three days have now passed and not a finger has been lifted. Dammit, I was up for it as well this week.

I'm a morning person, though, and exersion past 9pm is something of an issue - I'm winding down to unconsciousness by then.

Having worked so much the last two nights I've now scrapped my original plan for tomorrow because I need some relaxation time otherwise I'll die or quit my job or something. Hopefully that will give me the freedom to get up early and do a couple of hours of swimming and gymming first thing in the morning, before the weekend really starts!

While I'm on the subject of gyms, I have a bone to pick. Why, oh why, do some guys (it could be girls too, but the female changing rooms are unchartered territory for me) wander around naked as naturally as if they're in their bathroom at home?!

Don't get me wrong, I'm as comfortable with male nudity as any heterosexual man that doesn't really want to see other men naked. But there's a difference between the amount of naked that's unavoidably required in a communal changing area, and the amount that one has inflicted on them by random guys that just march around happily with everything dangling in the wind.

What are they doing?! You hop out the shower (with a towel round you, please), go to your locker, dry off, and get dressed. There is no need for nude marching!! And there is definitely no need for anyone to ever, EVER, get out of the pool and walk into the spa to be greeted by a naked guy climbing out of the jacuzzi that you were hoping to relax in!! That's just simply not necessary

Where did the last two weeks go, hey? You put your head down to get a bit of work done and time flies while you're not paying attention.

I find large amounts of money extremely intriguing, or, more specifically, the large amounts of money dangled in front of you by the National Lottery. For the sake of argument let's forget about the chances of actually winning the big one and concentrate on the motivation to play it in the first place.

I'm not expert so correct me if I'm wrong, but the average jackpot these days is around £6 million, no? How many times have you thought about what you'd do if you won the lottery? Buy a massive house, a flash car, an expensive holiday, a round-the-world trip, etc... The statistics would suggest that most of us don't play the lottery. So, and be honest here, how often do you think about winning the lottery - or even rely on it as the only way to achieve something you really want - and then not buy a ticket?

Now, I could let this go without a second thought, if only it weren't for the fact that it's these people (including me) who won't shell out for a ticket on a normal week, but if there's a rollover or even a double rollover, we're all off to the newsagents to buy a ticket or two!!

What is that about? "Bahhh, I'm not going down the shop for £6 million." But when there's £15 or 20 million, suddenly it's "ooh, I must remember to get a ticket this week, it's a rollover." Is six million pounds not good enough for us?!

We'll trudge down to the shop at half eight on a freezing cold Saturday morning because some fool has drunk the last of the milk the night before, but we won't stop off on the way home from work for £6 million?

Oh, and then there's the Euro millions. "Hmmm, eeeeeeeeeven less chance of winning this than the regular lottery, you say? More chance of winning the National Lottery twice, you say? Ahh but that jackpot's £23 million and I can buy my ticket online....."