love/like: Between You and Victor

i still like you. love is a difficult word for me. but you need to chill out with this thing. i want to be able to just say hi to you again, and hang out, without all this weight. you obviously don’t mean to put any pressure, but I feel pressurized by you. I’m sorry if i am breaking your heart: that was never the intention.

Fuck me.

Why do men always take the easy way out? It was his birthday yesterday, so I called him to sing ‘Happy Birthday’. His reaction was to say ‘Thank you, I really appreciate it’ and to end the call. Never mind that I’m still on the other side.

I honestly do not understand what went wrong, and where. But that’s just me. Perhaps I did nothing wrong; perhaps I should just move on. Swiftly. Get over him. Finish en klaar. But, I can’t. I don’t want to. I’m still in love, damn it. Despite all the months of nothingness.

I was at Mr Pickwicks tonight and remembered one of our first dates there. How we kissed that evening. I wonder if things will ever be that good again with me and Bernard. Fuck, I hope so.

I’ll never shave my legs again…much

Perhaps I should not have read her post. Perhaps I should have sneered at it instead of laughing and agreeing with it.

Perhaps.

Homeowner Guy called to cancel just half an hour ago. We were meant to go to a ‘Meet the Artist’ thing at a gallery in town. Mind you, I was under the impression he thought it’s only tomorrow, so I then sent Freelance Writer an sms, asking if he’d like to go with me. This was before Homeowner Guy called to cancel. He promised he’ll make it up to me, but I played it cool, reassuring him it’s fine, I’m not worried.

No, I wasn’t hoping I’d get laid. Well, I guess I had a bit of hope something might happen. But I’m still a bit hung up over Victor. So all my dates are ‘non-dates’ these days. I act as aloof as possible. I do not mention my relationship with Toby, or not much. Hell, I especially do not mention Victor.

Especially last night. Freelance Guy kept feeding me spoonfuls of his food. Argh. And he held the car door open for me. And closed it. Perhaps it was a date in his mind, which is why he made fun of me because I wasn’t wearing high heels. I was, however, wearing one of my pretty new dresses.

Anyway. If Freelance Guy doesn’t make it up to me, I won’t be too disappointed. He doesn’t like vino. I find that alarming. But I do blame shaving my legs for this.

Meaningful misreadings

Oh no. I think Mr Freelance Writer does like me. I sent Leigh-Anne and others an sms last night when he went to the loo: “I think I am on a date”.

He’s a 37-year-old. Divorced. Jewish, I think. Can only be. I attract Jewish guys. We met on Gumtree, but I was not looking for a date. I was actually flat hunting. Anyway.

He invited me for a drink, so we ended up in Long Street. I didn’t want to go, as you could see in last night’s post. But I went, and had a reasonably good time.

But he has this habit of staring at me. The 18-year-old at work also does it. And the UCT researcher has the same habit. Argh. It makes me nervous when they do that. Does it mean they think I’m ‘cute’, or does it mean they think I’m ‘crazy’? Probabl both.

He’s constantly touching me. That says something. And he kept suggesting we lengthen the evening, even wanted to go to Zula’s.

I’m not so sure what to do. I can’t tell the poor guy I’m not interested, for what if I’m misreading the signs? What if he isn’t interested in me? What if he’s just ‘hanging’ with me?

Non-date evening

I’m about to go on another ‘non-date’ right now. This is weird. I think he likes me, but I’m not too keen. Argh.

Oh, it’s a ‘non-date’ because he sent me an sms this morning, asking if I’d like to get a drink somewhere in Long Street. He didn’t call to ask. It’s also a ‘non-date’ because he made it very clear that he’s not looking for a girlfriend. Well, that was before we met. Oh, and he didn’t offer to pick me up and he just assumed it’s OK to assume I’m not doing anything tonight. Anyway. I should probably get ready.

What I’ve been up to

I went on a diiiirty weekend with a friend. I am sure I’ve written about her before, but I can’t remember her code name for the life of me. We had a jol. Even went to Darling, Dahling. And posted the pictures to Facebook. But it’s not as much fun tagging her; she isn’t on Facebook. No, she’s no Luddite, she just doesn’t like Facebook. Crazy woman, hey?

I no longer wash my hair. This may sound crazy, but I think it’s great. I got rid of at least one fragrance that clings to my body. I’m trying to go as natural as possible, and this is only the first step. My hair looked a bit greasy last week, but it’s only because of the Loreal Curl Power Seventeen magazine sent me to rate. So I ditched it, and now my hair looks normal again.

What else have I done? Hmmm. I got myself into a load of debt. I won’t even mention that. The spoils include a stunning County Road top that makes me look like Audrey Hepburn, a warm duvet cover, enough food to last me the month and some Liewe Heksie shoes. And yes, they are red.

Something else I did, was to get timeshare. Well, the points system. It was a spur-of-the-moment thing and I didn’t go into it alone. At least. I have a partner in crime. So, this means we can get cheap accommodation when we go on holiday. And trust me, I want to go everywhere and do it as often as possible.

So, that’s me.