I've been... in the West Island! {gasp!!}
Yes, I know, it's scary as hell. But there was a jackhammer outside this guy's window at 8am one morning last week, and he said, 'Maybe we can spend the night in Pierrefonds.'
'Oh?'
And then he was on the phone calling up his parents. They were at their cottage, and said it was fine if we piled into the car with our sacks of laundry and crashed at their house. So we did.
They have a pool, which we didn't get to use since it was still quite cold, even though it was the first day of summer. Their dryer has to be hand started by spinning the inside hard, counterclockwise. Suburban moms are the same, whether Canadian or American, it seems.
He painted my nails. He did a better job with my toes, for some reason.
We walked down to a park where there was a hill we could sit on, drinking beer (him) and vodka cranberries (me). We talked about various accents, he showed me how to find Cassiopeia, we wondered why his street had so much death lingering in those nice-looking houses.
He singed his arm hair trying to light the barbecue with a match cus the starter button wasn't working.
We drove past kaffeine's apartment on the way back into the city. We got stuck in traffic, he blasted AC/DC and I put my feet up on the dashboard of his mufflerless car. I checked my messages and found 4 from my fuck friend. He said he couldn't tell me what to do about that. I said that was the trouble with a fuck friend; eventually, you'll meet someone you want to get involved with, and then what? He asked me if I was saying I wanted to get involved with him, after he told me in so many ways not to get involved with him. I said I wasn't sure, but I wasn't interested in calling FF. He said he wanted to avoid having the 'where is this going' talk, because every girl he had categorized as Girlfriend he'd broken up with. I said I agreed with him, since having The Talk always feels like a weird negotiation, where neither one of you says what you really want to say. And anyway, these labels are only for the benefit of the people who will ask, 'Soooooo... are you guys like an ITEM now??'
I'm not an item. I'm not missing my other half, looking to be completed by someone else. (Incidentally, this is why Sarah McLachlan songs make me so angry. Everything is just too much for her without a man to prop her up. ARGH!)
So I don't know what he is, exactly, but we've spent almost 2 weeks nonstop together. All that after he decided he wasn't interested in me because I wore jeans and a t-shirt and ratty sneakers to our first meeting. I didn't think anything would come of it either. An obsessive AC/DC fan, mama's boy, Irish drunk, motherfucking actor? No way. But we seem to have good conversations, and we have a lot in common, on second glance.
And, jokes about him fucking the stage manager aside, it's been fun going to DCB rehearsals every evening, seeing them improve. They did a run-through on Thursday, and while I'm concerned that not everyone's off script yet (the show is this Thursday, fuck!), they were pretty fucking funny. I hope you guys are all gonna show up to see them. Check out the flier here for info: http://suicidegirls.com/members/ValCapone/pics/50753/1/
So that's what I've been up to. I finally slept in my own bed, alone, for the first time last night. This is definitely the year of the cock.
Yes, I know, it's scary as hell. But there was a jackhammer outside this guy's window at 8am one morning last week, and he said, 'Maybe we can spend the night in Pierrefonds.'
'Oh?'
And then he was on the phone calling up his parents. They were at their cottage, and said it was fine if we piled into the car with our sacks of laundry and crashed at their house. So we did.
They have a pool, which we didn't get to use since it was still quite cold, even though it was the first day of summer. Their dryer has to be hand started by spinning the inside hard, counterclockwise. Suburban moms are the same, whether Canadian or American, it seems.
He painted my nails. He did a better job with my toes, for some reason.
We walked down to a park where there was a hill we could sit on, drinking beer (him) and vodka cranberries (me). We talked about various accents, he showed me how to find Cassiopeia, we wondered why his street had so much death lingering in those nice-looking houses.
He singed his arm hair trying to light the barbecue with a match cus the starter button wasn't working.
We drove past kaffeine's apartment on the way back into the city. We got stuck in traffic, he blasted AC/DC and I put my feet up on the dashboard of his mufflerless car. I checked my messages and found 4 from my fuck friend. He said he couldn't tell me what to do about that. I said that was the trouble with a fuck friend; eventually, you'll meet someone you want to get involved with, and then what? He asked me if I was saying I wanted to get involved with him, after he told me in so many ways not to get involved with him. I said I wasn't sure, but I wasn't interested in calling FF. He said he wanted to avoid having the 'where is this going' talk, because every girl he had categorized as Girlfriend he'd broken up with. I said I agreed with him, since having The Talk always feels like a weird negotiation, where neither one of you says what you really want to say. And anyway, these labels are only for the benefit of the people who will ask, 'Soooooo... are you guys like an ITEM now??'
I'm not an item. I'm not missing my other half, looking to be completed by someone else. (Incidentally, this is why Sarah McLachlan songs make me so angry. Everything is just too much for her without a man to prop her up. ARGH!)
So I don't know what he is, exactly, but we've spent almost 2 weeks nonstop together. All that after he decided he wasn't interested in me because I wore jeans and a t-shirt and ratty sneakers to our first meeting. I didn't think anything would come of it either. An obsessive AC/DC fan, mama's boy, Irish drunk, motherfucking actor? No way. But we seem to have good conversations, and we have a lot in common, on second glance.
And, jokes about him fucking the stage manager aside, it's been fun going to DCB rehearsals every evening, seeing them improve. They did a run-through on Thursday, and while I'm concerned that not everyone's off script yet (the show is this Thursday, fuck!), they were pretty fucking funny. I hope you guys are all gonna show up to see them. Check out the flier here for info: http://suicidegirls.com/members/ValCapone/pics/50753/1/
So that's what I've been up to. I finally slept in my own bed, alone, for the first time last night. This is definitely the year of the cock.