Skyfall Part 3

I went round to P’s on Saturday after work.

I’d gotten two or three texts, with P asking if I wanted to come round after work, asking how my day was, etc. Maybe I should be mean and distant more, wondering what’s wrong haha. I didn’t reply to any of them because I was still angry and at work. It’s true what they say,

Be mean, keep ’em keen.

But I don’t want to be a bitch. I went. After a few pleasantries, I pressed for more details on their conversation, which was something to the effect that A asked how P knew me; P didn’t want to make up some elaborate lie, and said we’d been seeing each other for a while, wasn’t sure what it was, but that it was nice.

Then I admitted that I wasn’t happy with P at the moment, and gently shoved P’s knee with my foot. Mature, I know. More like petulant child. P immediately asked why, and I admitted it was going to sound gay, but P was mean to me. And then I backtracked and said it’d taken me a little while to figure out why I was so angry, but it boiled down to:

  • I don’t need P to hold my hand because I’m not a child.
  • I want P to engage in public physical affection.
  • Saying “Toughen up princess” felt like a rejection of my desire for physical affection.
  • I dislike “princess” just like I dislike being called “cute”.

P grabbed my hand and said, “I’m really sorry.” And then I gave P a couple of wrapped presents. P laughed and said, “I’m mean to you and you give me presents?” Well.. no. Feelings are transient and all that crap. I know I really like him and my annoyance will fade. New hand warmers and app magnets aren’t anything speccy, but I think they were small and nice. And unexpected. I’m surprised the previous one popped open when Loki batted it off the counter, but oh well.

Cuddles on the couch after, and we’re ok. P came to meet Kesh&Young, Nam and Jeff when we ate lunch today at The Garden in Leederville. I’m surprised, but I guess it’s fair. I met A, P met a bunch of my friends. It’s getting serious. Kesh said this could be the time to back off if I was ever going to do it. I don’t know.

Advertisements

Skyfall Part 2

I present, another textual exchange, following the movie. P ratings are dramatically down at this week’s close.

P: Just told A how I knew you. Well not EXACTLY where we met! he thought you were very nice 🙂

me: Yeah? That’d be pretty ballsy. He seems like a cool guy. thanks for the movie, I had fun 🙂

P: He’s my best friend. Even though that makes me sound like a five year old.

me: (no reply)

It took me a bit to work out what to write. I wanted to say, “Well how do we know each other?” but that would be too overt. And it’d be too reminiscent of a high maintenance girl, something we want to most definitely avoid.

I am still angry and annoyed. Don’t call me princess. I’m not your princess. I’m not yours. After all, if you’ve only ever said, “We’re friends,” and occasionally “friends with benefits,” what am I to think?* I crushed tiny little hopes that you liked me at the start and dutifully stomped them down again months into it. I started Pristiq because I was that upset.

You’d have to be blind, deaf and dumb to not notice I was angry with you. I barely looked at you or said anything before the movie. I’m not going to refuse to enjoy the movie. Guns, explosions, action, suspense with a central British spy, I’m there. But I’m still unhappy.

It’s been more than a year since you first met me. Despite my emphatic suppression of feelings, I’ve come to really like you and think you like me. You have this implacable and unflappable demeanour which is great for keeping me calm, but it frustrates me when I want a response that isn’t so understanding, that has some more emotion to it.

If this is the first time I’m meeting one of your friends, I want them to like me. I want them to think I’m mature, not some dalliance. Telling me I can’t hold your hand and to harden up feels like a rejection of my affection for you. And calling me princess is along the same wavelength as when girls call me cute, it’s emasculating and demeaning. That’s probably why I’m still angry at you.

I want you to tell me you’re sorry. I want your cuddles and kisses. Show me that you care, that you’re not embarrassed of me.

Maybe I’ll start taking Pristiq regularly again.

*I wonder if this is what Emma Watson was referring to in her interview with Ellen Degeneres, on dating English vs. American guys:

Usually in the whole courting situation, I’m used to being, first of all, ignored for the first two months of the ritual. And then maybe they’ll acknowledge my presence, and then they’ll probably be a little mean to me.. and then maybe we’ll .. you know, whatever. Then I arrive in America, and I remember a few nights into Brown [University], this guy just being like, “I like you. You’re great. Let’s go on a date. Let’s do it.” I’m like, “I’m sorry, what just happened?”

What Have I Done?!

I signed an agreement to buy a house. Holy crap. It’s a milestone. … it is, right?

Dad said,

It’s the biggest purchase of your life. Read the fine print.

Yeah well Dad, you spent what, 3 days looking?! I feel like we’re rushing into this. And I liked 4/2 Douglas Avenue, Subiaco much better. It’s small and manageable.

This? This is massive. Well, not really. The kids bedrooms are small. I’m probably going to live in one of them.

White goods are EXPENSIVE. Holy crap. Mortgage. Attachment. Roots. It’s very grown up, really.

One of the best birthdays

P wins major …. whatever we are… points. I’d like to apply one term, P probably wouldn’t, but that’s another conversation.

May I present the following textual exchange:

P: Ok. Asked around. Melbourne has a higher international profile. UWA has some good world class lecturers. My boss expressed the same concerns re UWA grads as me. That probably doesn’t help AT ALL 🙂

Me: Yeah not really. It’s alright, thanks for asking for me 🙂 how was your day?

P: So so. You sounds [sic] a bit down. You ok?

Me: Seriously, how do you pick this kind of thing up?!

Ok, I think my reply was fairly open to interpretation. How did P know I was stressed?! P rang straight away and let me talk it out. Even though I talked it out with Mum and Dad, and bitched about it to Bec from work, I’m relieved to have talked to P about it.

At least I found her blasted red book. I gave it back and apologised, and she demanded, “What about asking for my forgiveness??” I thought, “I don’t want anything from you. Especially not your forgiveness.” She must have forgotten how it works. You can’t demand it. Her forgiveness is a power play to have me grovel and I won’t do it. I wrote as much to Dad. I told him how much I didn’t want the Prius if that was the kind of strings attached to it. What a despicable person. I said to Dad last night, “I hope she doesn’t get me anything for my birthday because I would want to refuse it.” Thank goodness she hasn’t.

Anyway. Enough of her. Let’s finish on a positive note.

P is taking me to P’tite Ardoise Bistro for my birthday. It’s really expensive. And at the end of our call, P said, “Look, why don’t you come over tomorrow and sleep over after dinner?”

This was one of the biggest things that tore me up inside at the start when we first started seeing each other and messing around – I always initiated contact. Obviously there has been some texts to hang out and so on, but it’s nice to feel pursued and special. Which I do.

In stiff competition for the best present is when Dad rang up and said happy birthday this morning. My present was the bank draft for the exorbitant Full Fee Place made out to the University of Melbourne. I have to pay them back slowly after I finish. They’ve sacrificed so much for me.

I tried to avoid drawing attention to the fact that it was my birthday from work mates and everyone else. N let the cat out of the bag (what a shit dude haha), and Khils and Cat were so apologetic – exactly what I wanted to avoid: any fuss at all. But despite not having hundreds of facebook wall posts and texts, it’s been a good birthday.

PS. Guess what?? In our discussion of Melbourne vs UWA, P said,

“Obviously I want you here, but I do think Melbourne is the wiser choice.”

😀 squeeeeeeeee!!!!!!!

“I think I might be falling for you”

Dear L,

This is everything I wish I could say out loud to you:

I wish I liked you.

Your stubble gives me goosebumps every time. You want to rim me. You can get things from people. You’re in the arts. You’re my age.

But you’re pushy. You’ve laughed at some of my views. You could chalk it up to incredulity, and I know I am narrow-minded. Even though you’re probably right, P handles those times better.

I also don’t really like your foreskin that much. I thought I would like foreskins. You’re out of shape and you don’t like exercise. You’re starting to bald. You’re shorter than me. You like my lower lip. I suspect we may not be compatible on one key sexual aspect.

Thank you for everything. I shouldn’t have led you on and replied in kind. I’m sorry. I’m just glad I have the option to move to Melbourne and you’ll be in London by June 2013. Please don’t stay in touch. I don’t want to give you hope. I should never have done the thought experiment of where I saw myself in 5 years and beyond.

I’m sorry.