Day Sixtyone

Haha, I wanted to see what my oldest post was, and found this:

"Jez is Gay

No, really. For the following reasons I can prove that my boyfriend has higher homosexual tendencies than the average man.

1. He once dreamt about being part of an all-male threesome
2. Last night he dreamt about Eugene and Jason, although he and Eugene have never met
3. He plucks "under"
4. He had a crush on his cute gay hairdresser
5. He often makes suggestive comments about his male friends, especially Felix
6. And how did I manage to forget the fact that he spent one particular night in the distant past making out with Yoza when I was right there

I'm not worried. I'm sexier than Felix. I'm hot. I'm spicy. I'm not your girl next door. I'm the girl on the next block in your hood, nigger.

Edit: As for Yoza. Well, I can't live up to that."

Now what with Ken and Clementdryhump, all of that looks kinda tame. But Ken is no longer competition because he prefers my nipples over Jez's. I know it bothers you deep deep inside.

I feel unpleasantly nostalgic reading back. I feel as if our relationship has been divided into two portions, and it always makes me uneasy thinking of that portion. The dividing line is whenever "Day One" started. When we broke up and were serious about it. When we spent many nights on the phone even when we said we wouldn't, chewing over why it didn't work why it can't work why it doesn't work now why it might work later why it could actually work now after all. When I thought fuck it I'm going to get a tattoo and slut it out and illegally distribute pseudoephedrine and now I'm glad I didn't. Stupid awful times.

It's funny how, with any given popular song, I'd start to like it when the radio tires of playing it and other people's ears have crusted over from listening to it. Like I Kissed A Girl and like Freestyler. And now I'm looping Mraz and Colby Caillat's Lucky after having ignored it for the past few months or however long it has been since Yoz sent it to me.

Today was the last Sunday I worked with Sally. Well maybe not the very last one ever, but Eugene is back next week and we'll be returning to our monotonous Mario Karting and endless gastronomical debates. I wonder whether he'll be interested in Cooking Mama or Drawn to Life (I had given up on the latter after having played the same stage about 5 times because the idiot game doesn't automatically save and I never seem to have enough battery to last me through it).

Not that working with Sally means actually having to do work. Unless Janet gets lazy and leaves me a shitfuckingcrapfuckingfuckfuckload of stock to be put away - and I use such vehement descriptors because last week it was literally a MOUNTAIN. It was as if they had accumulated a month's worth of deliveries and saved it for me. Me and my measly four hours which was far from enough to finish the job at hand.

Today, however, no mountain awaited my arrival. So we had the lunch discussion. I ordered som tum which I could really spend the rest of my life eating. Sally ordered massaman beef.

I've always wondered why Sally wasn't married or engaged or even dating. She's in her thirties, and is extremely pretty not just for her age, but for everyone else's ages too. She has to show ID at pubs. She's absolutely the nicest person I've ever worked with, and she's a pharmacist which in itself is enough reason to be loved right right right? Mirjana always said she was the reason Jim spends most of his Tuesdays at Kirribilli and dumps all of their unsold-and-near-expired stock in Greenwood.

We were talking about Jez this morning. Sally thought Jez was cute for bringing her a donut last week. I told her I wanted to go to the beach today but he was reluctant because he insisted his body was still a "work in progress". She thought that was cute too. I mentioned that his name was Jeremy. No surprises she thought that was cute. I told Jez all of this and he was grinning like the Cheshire cat.

Since we were talking about it anyway, I inquired about her love life. She told me about a guy she had known since primary school. They hadn't been close friends, but have been to the same parties and weddings and whatever throughout all these years. Recently he called her and asked her to dinner and drinks. She thought it was casual until he took her to The Boathouse on Blackwattle Bay, where an entrée would cost me two hours of work. Since their dinner, he had been calling and asking her to more dinners. She wasn't attracted to him, but didn't know how to communicate her disinterest. She sounded like she was glad to get it off her chest.

So you'd probably be all "why don't you just tell him you're not interested" but it's hard it's really really hard. There are no openings for this kind of thing. Especially when your rejectee is a friend. Although I've never really had that dilemma because no friend of mine had ever wanted to be anything more.

Being the optimist, I wore my swimmers under my clothes even though Jez and I had decided earlier that we were opting for Warhammer instead of beach. We ended up going to the beach anyway, which turned out to be a horrible idea because by the time we arrived the warm weather had completely vanished. We shivered for a few hours and left.

I still smell like salt and sand, which is sort of pleasant and sort of dirty at the same time.