but I am…
Oh no. Suddenly, I lost my rosy-coloured glasses. Suddenly, I’m feeling slightly low. For big stretches of the day, I feel miserable. And no, I do not feel sad about losing the iPod. Some part of me knew I would lose one of my prized possessions soon.
There’s just this feeling I have. Of not being ‘connected’ to the people whom I love. Starting with my mom, all my relationships are failing.
I still find it hard to believe that there are people who admire my writing. Fine, yes, I do have low self-esteem. I need constant compliments; they’re my fuel. If someone does not respond with as much passion, I feel slighted. I retreat. I bite them.
And then of course I am in agreement with one of Woody Allen’s sayings, or is it one of Groucho Marx’s? You know which one that is. And yesterday another potential member sent me an email, asking how I am and that we should meet for coffee again. Weird. I bitch about not having enough quality friends, that Cape Town is full of cliques and that people are shallow. Well, am I not shallow for being reluctant to be friends with her? Poor Jenny. I’ll try to remember about our coffee date. And I’ll try not to screw this possible friendship up.
I’m not having a great morning. Well, it started off just fine. I woke up, did what I had to, had some coffee and decided to walk to the station. “Why not?”, I thought. And then for some strange reason, I thought of my iPod. I wondered when last I saw it. The last time I heard the iPod was on Saturday morning, when I was snuggling up in bed and its alarm went off at 08:47am as it does every morning. Toby set the alarm last year to tell him he should get ‘a move on’ for work. We called it ‘max lateness’.
So I haven’t heard ‘max lateness’ since Saturday morning. Elizabeth paid me a visit on Saturday. It can only be her who took it. I called her as soon as I got to work. But that only happened after I went home to make sure it really is gone. I got home at about 8:30am and waited until 8:47am for the alarm to go off. It didn’t. Now, I haven’t used the iPod for the longest period. So the battery should be fine. And I did not misplace it. I got home on Friday night and I transferred most of my bag’s contents into my little red number. And then I went to see the Sex and the City movie with some friends.
So it should still be in my room, right? But it’s not.
I’m also ashamed to admit that I’m glad it’s gone. This gives me the perfect excuse to forget about Elizabeth and her baby. I wanted to get a 2-bedroom flat somewhere and have them move in with me.
Am I right to not want to have her move in with me anymore? Should I give her another chance?
Is it possible that one of my part-time lovers can start having romantic feelings for me? And please note that when I say ‘one of’, I am not implying I have 3439490 of them?
It’s normally easy to figure out whether someone is interested. Although, with this one (Gareth, of course), it’s a little bit more difficult.
Part of me wants him to be madly in love with me. Another part still looks down on him for something that I feel too guilty to mention. Something he mentioned to me in confidence. And I acted as though it were not a big deal, or a deal breaker. Anyway.
The part that wants him to be madly in love with me is rather small. I value his friendship above any possibility of a relationship. It’s nice to know that there is one person in Cape Town who will try, no matter what, to help me when I’m in a pickle. I guess that’s why I was alarmed last week when Gareth said: “We should really stop doing this. Never mind that the this has been ridiculously innocent these last couple of weeks.
What followed after his monologue were some smses on Friday, culminating in mine: “Face it: you have feelings for me”. It happened after seeing the Sex and the City movie with Tracey and some of her friends. Of course we had some drinks before, and after the movie, so I feel slightly justified in sending Gareth that sms. Only just.
He denied it, still does. Argh. What’s worse is that now it looks as though I have a crush on him. Eish.
Is it OK to find ‘The God of Small Things’ a chore to read? I tried reading it again last night, after my flatmate, who brought me a vanilla latte to drink, saw the book on my little Picasso table. She read it when she was in the Himalayas and thinks it’s an excellent read.
Twenty pages later, after being distracted by the strange phrases Arundhati uses, I went to bed. No, I lie. I surfed the internet, preferring instead to read about what I hope my future children will be like, and googling Company P’s very cute co-owner.
I’m sure she’s a good writer, this Arundhati chick, but all the adjectives were starting to hurt my eyes. It made me long for ‘The Old Man and The Sea’ instead. Or any other book that does not rely on adjectives to tell the story.
Am I being too severe? What books do you struggle to read? And do you feel justified in doing so?
This week has been amazing. I have spent a fair amount of time at Gareth’s place, watching DVDs; I have received countless compliments on my writing; Company P sent me some work to do, and paid me for it this morning; and I’m just feeling upbeat about life, love and stuff.
Receiving compliments from cute 19-year-old boys also helps with the old ego. Trust me, it does. 😉 And yes, I know, he might not be interested, but oy, he’s so cute. OK, now is a good time to stop drooling, perhaps.
The strangest thing happened. Victor was online and responded to my casual ‘Hi’. We had a Gchat-style conversation and then he said that it’ll be great to make-out again. And that he would love to see me again. And that I’m pretty impressive.
It felt strange. Strange that I had to remind him we will only meet for coffee; we’re not going to shag. We do not even have a date when we’ll meet again. You see, this is what I’ve been waiting for. I waited more than two months to hear something like this. Does it feel good? Dur. Of course it does.
I have decided to stay far away from Gareth. This revelation occurred to me as I got out of his bakkie tonight, bidding him a pleasant evening.
He is dangerous territory at this moment. He is a gorgeous guy who has managed to break my heart into a million little pieces two years ago. He is a playa, and I of all people should know this. If I’m not careful, and I persist in having these cute ‘movie evenings’ at his place, I’ll end up feeling even more in love/lust with him. That I do not want. I am not in love with him but I’m not far off. Right now, I’m far more interested in kissing him than anything else, but I know it won’t stay there.
I told myself I will not see him again anytime soon. And failed when he asked me this afternoon whether I would like to watch Brothers and Sisters with him. I was giddy this afternoon when I said ‘Sounds good. What time?’ Must’ve been.
Oy. He’s such a good kisser… And he has the most amazing washboard stomach, semi-bald head, gorgeous eyes and soft touch. And he stroked my arm when I was crying at some episode of B&S. Same thing on Saturday night when I was at his place to watch B&S. And no, we do not use it as a euphemism.
I was so silly tonight. I got a bit dressed up. I wore my silk dress over my jeans, somehow hoping he’ll notice. Of course he didn’t. Why would he? God, I’m crazy sometimes.
Oh well. At least I had fun. 😉
This is the weirdest thing. I do not have an active Vodacom Data Bundle, yet I am able to surf the ‘interwebs’. Sure, I have R8.22 airtime on my phone, but that can’t be enough to allow me a browse on Saks Fifth Avenue, which is surely a bandwidth chewer?
Anyway. I’m still not over Victor. It sometimes feel as though I’ll never be over him. So much has happened these last couple of weeks, I honestly do not know where to start.
For one, Uri is ignoring me. He reckons I only want to contact him when I want money. Sounds like a typical male thing to say, so I won’t even worry too much over that.
I have a couple of new crushes: Vida Guy is someone whom I see at my local Vida every second morning or so. He is very, very, very attractive (my type of attractive). Oh, and we make eye contact. Or we made eye contact this morning. Should this happen again (like, tomorrow morning), I’ll endeavour (trying to sound fancy now) to smile at him. I can’t promise, though. And hopefully he’ll be wearing his biker gear. That makes him look super sexy. But, I have to admit, he does look a bit ‘vaak’. Oy. My taste in men is dodgy.
My darling mother kicked my sister out. She moved in with the baby’s daddy’s family and is now sleeping in his room. The daddy sleeps in the lounge. Supposedly. So, I’m working on finding someone to move into my room in this 3-bedroom flat. I’ll then get my sister to move in with me, but in a different flat. It has to be a 2-bedroom one. Which will cost a lotta dough, but it’ll be better than to have her stay there. And she has an interview on Friday for a job that’ll pay double her current salary.
Somehow, last night, Gareth and I… It wasn’t planned, but damn it felt good. Or, rather, it was planned, but in jest. I certainly did not think I would pull through with ‘our plan’.
O.K., this is just weird. My Gmail is loading. Leigh-Anne, why are you not on Gchat? LOL. How is this possible? I should’ve run out of airtime by now. All these websites are heavy on bandwidth. Unless of course, the data bundle doesn’t really expire. Unless of course, Vodacom lies about that as well. Let’s see if I can get into Facebook. Yip. I’m in.
In other amazing news
One of South Africa’s well known and well loved brands, Company P, wants me to do freelance writing for ’em. This is such a random thing that happened just today, about two hours ago. And I do not care whether it is because this company has managed to screw me around and over and under (exaggerating a bit here); I would like to believe that their main kokkedoor was reminded of me at the right time. So there. I do not need a certain busy executive to make things happen for me. I am quite capable (with the help of Lady Luck and Mister Charm) of doing it myself.
This might even help to pay that waaaay-too-expensive flat I’m viewing tomorrow night…