Bastard Boys

So, I had a bit of an adventure on the weekend… And I didn’t want to tell anyone because I thought it would jinx it. Well, stuff that… And, oh , I kept it til now!

Jazz in the Domain was going on on Saturday night, so a friend (who I’ll call Eponine)  and I went along with a picnic and lots of wine. Living so close to the Domain was pretty handy! (Especially at peeing time)

Toward the end of the night, we managed to find a friend of Eponine who’s partner had his boat moored in Darling Harbour and so invited us to go along for a drink.

Wow! How the other half live! Being an Eastern Sydney girl, I get down to Rushcutters Bay and Woolloomooloo Wharf quite a bit, and when I do, I longingly glance at those eating at Otto’s, drinking wine and sitting in the sun on their balconies, jumping on and off their massive cruisers, but now, I truly know how they feel… Its lovely!

The boat looked a spanker! No dinghies around here, and after a glass of wine perfectly matched with a layer of snow (which, don’t fret, I only partake in when its free, which is not very often). Then I met a boy. I was feeling a bit rockstar, or maybe CoKate, since I cant play an instrument. Anyway, I digress by comparing myself to famous people whose bodies and notoriety I will never match.

(Have been racking my brains for a nickname besides Bastard for awhile now, but I assume that if I ever go into those weary flashbacks again or even think about how I’ll be screwed in the future, that Bastard should really be reserved for those that truly deserve it!). So I hereby name him BigBen. There has been and I’m sure will be more English boys, but, he gets the title because he’s the first one I have spoken about and because, as the name suggests…

BigBen is a Londoner. Been in Sydney for ages, and I don’t think he has any plans to go home. So, after some discussion he asks for my number. Done deal. Or… Maybe not? Here is where  Choose your own Adventure would come in handy. I choose, that he walk me home. Hindsight proves that I should have chosen the chapter where I alone get a cab home and sleep it off.

However, home turned into what looked like a study of Wall Street 1980′s style. Yep, a bit more snow and a bit more pashing. Needless to say he slept over. Yes, he slept, I did not. In fact, only had my first good nights sleep last night. Next morning, after lying in bed for a few hours reading the paper, and then after coffee down the road, he kisses me and says he will call. Its now Wednesday. Have I heard from him? No. Do I care? Sort of. I mean, it pisses me off that men lie. I mean, don’t say it if you don’t mean it, Really. Now, I know you could say that if I hadn’t given it up so easily, then maybe he would’ve called me. Well, I’m here to tell you that I didn’t. Sure, there was stuff going on, but not that, even if I had wanted to – nothing. And I know where the blame lies in that. In addition, don’t lie in my bed for hours the next morning if you have no intention of coming back to it in the future!

So, my girlfriend (AKA Kate) messages me this evening to tell me that she also has been screwed. But this is a wee bit different. Kate has like this guy for ages, Rejected his advances previously when he still had a girlfriend, and then 5 months after his break-up Kate gives into her fear of being the rebound girl and the age difference (he younger), and has one hell of a night with him. All is looking fine and dandy, then, she gets a message from him, that he has accepted an invitation to go out with his Ex. The guy doesn’t know what he wants. She is devastated, he is a bastard, but a bloody charming one at that and Kate is equally as charming and low maintenance about it all. I’m really upset for her, she sounded so happy about it all when it originally began and I really hope that it doesn’t put her off a hunt for a replacement.

And so tonight I’m trying very earnestly to keep faith in men. Of course I’m going to forget about this guy, and probably very quickly. Kate might not forget about hers so easily, and I get that, I’m still thinking about MG every day, and sometimes SheffieldBoy (whom I may talk about in the future, but to keep you in the loop, he was the one that got away, or should I say, the one I left behind in the UK and who I hope to meet up with in a few months when I go back for a visit). I don’t know what else to say now. I’m not depressed, but sort of feel it coming on. I clearly need someone to get excited about.

Uh-oh! Just realised the perils of a single arachnophobia female living by herself… Killing white-tailed spiders on my lonesome! Aaaaaghhhh