After a long time doing this, Simon Macbeth Roundhay began to change and wanted more. Encounters that had been driven purely by physical desire became meetings motivated by a desperate need for company. I needed someone to talk to and found it easier to get friendship and comfort from women. The thrill of the cattle market was no longer there. I didn’t want to go home alone. I found it lonely going back after a night out and the sex wasn’t the most important thing anymore. Showing off in front of friends, the male bravado, felt less impressive. I was still taking girls home, but not sleeping with many of them. The sex was no longer what I needed.
By the time I was 23 years old, picking up women ceased being as enjoyable. It had become predictable, boring, and meaningless. There were some girls that I liked enough to spend more time with, for days, weeks or even a couple of months sometimes, but I was cheating on them all. I’d still go out five or six nights a week doing the same old stuff and then spend any spare nights on dates with these other women. I never called them girlfriends. I used to get bored with them. They would change from the fun girls I’d met and become more demanding. I wasn’t prepared to put the extra effort in that was required to keep them happy.
As my perspective started to change, the “10 to 2” rule gradually faded away. I was going out and actually getting to know girls by talking to them properly and treating them as people, rather than commodities. I didn’t channel all of my efforts into the good-looking girls either; I was interested in the people who were nice to me.
I was lonely with no substance or depth in my life. I was going nowhere and the company of nice people made things more bearable. I seemed at that time to be drifting towards nothingness and was getting quite down with my lot. There wasn’t one thing in particular that made me want to take things by the scruff of the neck, but I felt I was worth more.
I was working in various pubs, sometimes for a few weeks or if I was lucky the jobs could last months. I would inevitably get sacked in the end, but I didn’t mind because there were plenty of pubs in Leeds where I could get work. There were always plenty of female customers and by constantly moving around town it gave me more opportunities to meet a larger variety of women.
At that stage I saw working in pubs and bars as a career. I thought about progressing to assistant manager one day. They got paid 50 pence more than the £3.50 an hour I was getting paid. To rise beyond that wasn’t worth thinking about because if it did ever reach those dizzy heights, it was so far into the future.
I began to realise that I couldn’t live the life I wanted on the wages I was earning. It also wasn’t what I wanted to do for the rest of my days. I had to find a way forward.
I became pre-occupied in finding a positive direction with work. I decided that my future lay in catering. When I was growing up I helped Mum do bits of cooking and baking. I’d been brought up to do stuff like that. After my parents chucked me out I was just eating junk all of the time until I started cooking and thinking a bit more about diet. I started to realise that it wasn’t doing me any good eating rubbish. It was making me feel ill all of the time and giving me no energy or motivation to do anything.
I’d no experience of cooking professionally, but the bubble rose from my head, the light flashed on, and all of a sudden that’s the way I wanted to go. I went to the job centre and saw adverts for Commie Chefs, Chefs de Partie, Sous Chefs, Second Chefs, Head Chefs, and it confused the hell out of me. Apart from the Head Chef who I reasoned must be in charge and the Second Chef who I presumed was second in line, I hadn’t a clue what all the other ones were or did. It was a matter of using logic. The lowest paid jobs were where the bottom rung of the ladder was and where I was going to have to start.
I managed to get a job at a place called Joseph’s Well Tavern in Leeds. I was put in charge of serving up crappy microwave food and chucking things into a deep fat fryer. Nothing was cooked fresh, but working there taught me how to run a kitchen. I was no wiser about how to cook proper meals, but the experience served me well for the future. I wouldn’t have fancied eating much of the food served there.
You can read chapter 12 here: http://www.simonmacbeth.co
Learn More About Simon Macbeth Leeds
You can find out more about Simon Macbeths life, from being a child and growing up in Leeds, to where he is now. A successful, award winning, business owner and web designer that owns high ranking websites. He is active on Google+ and Facebook where he creates interesting content.
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