16 More hours…


OK. I am officially excited. I’ll see the Afrikaans boytjie in only 16 more hours. I haven’t been posting here that often because I’m worried he’ll find this blog. That possibility freaks me out. That’s why I had it protected for a while.

We’re having lunch at Leigh-Anne’s on Friday. It’ll be my first time at her flat. Well, I’ve been there before: back in the beginning of this year when we were considering sharing a flat. But I haven’t been there since she moved into the flat. And this means I’ll finally be able to rescue my darling Memories of My Melancholy Whores.

So yeah. Of course I’m being my usual paranoid little self: I’m wondering how this can be happening to me. I’m thinking that perhaps he is playing a joke on me, and he isn’t actually coming to visit me. Why can’t I just trust that he is? G-d, I irritate myself 80% of the time.

Perhaps I should just go to bed now or read a book, or somethin’. And not think about this boytjie. But Twitter is tempting me… I’ll admit this, though: I have been very good online. It isn’t that I’m keeping him a secret. Hell, even his parents know he’s visiting me. It’s just that I don’t want a repeat of what happened wif Victor. I went crazy on Facebook and on this blog. And it didn’t help me, right? So I’ll relax and just enjoy the next few days.

And no, I’m not planning to shag him tomorrow. Or rather, if it happens, it happens. But that isn’t the objective. The objective is to play lots of chess and Scrabble, watch Zoolander (he hasn’t seen it yet — blasphemous!), take him to meet my favourite non-dues-paying-Mensan and drink many espressos at fancy joints.

Wish me luck, will ya?


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