Monday, November 8
Bad Habits
Yes, I've ended up getting a week behind with my writing once more. At least this gives you something to read on a Monday morning in the office. For that, be thankful. To quote Garfield, I hate Mondays.And so our story begins where it left off last time. Namely Saturday afternoon, and my leaving Jillian's place after staying there on Friday night. I was fucking knackered, seeing as I hadn't had much sleep at all the night before, so I spent the rest of Saturday in my room, surfing the web and watching Simpsons episodes. It's a hard life, I know.
What I should have been doing was sorting out my costume for Sunday's Halloween party back at Jillian's. I had half an idea in my head, that of Alex from Clockwork Orange, but I didn't yet have a bowler hat. If I'd have gone downtown on Saturday afternoon, I could have got myself a half-decent outfit, but I just wasted away the afternoon doing fuck all.
This was downright retarded, because I knew full well that absolutely nothing is open in Heidelberg on a Sunday, least of all anywhere that you could envisage putting together a Halloween costume. Stupid me.
I also had this fact rammed home to me when I was out with a few friends for a drink or two on Saturday evening (oh, and I really do mean just a couple of drinks. This isn't one of those times where it's code for not being able to see at the end of the night). It suddenly hit me how easy it would be to do Kevin Spacey's character from se7en. All I needed was to cover a white t-shirt in ketchup and wrap some gauze around the tips of all of my fingers, accompanied by a little more blood-substitute. Easy!
Except you couldn't even buy gauze on a Sunday. Fucking lazy-assed German shopkeeper types. It would have looked so fucking cool too, as well as keeping together with the whole "be scary on Halloween" concept. Fucking German shopkeepers!
I ended up going to the party in a full football kit, which was a bit of a cop-out. At least I managed to throw some sort of costume together, even if it wasn't the most inventive. I did contemplate throwing myself along some grass on the way over to get a bit muddied up, but the bottle of wine and 6-pack I was carrying convinced me otherwise. I did manage to get a couple of votes for Worst Costume, which pleased me no end.
And so to the drinking. I really, truly didn't drink a whole lot that night, I swear. I had about 6 or 7 bottles of beer, that's it. Jillian wasn't drinking at all, since she said she'd had a weekend's worth on Friday night, and I just wasn't hugely up for getting twatted. No, I wasn't feeling ill, just in a non-drinking mood.
Needless to say, there were many, many others who weren't of the same mindset as me. There was some drunken hilarity, some drunken mouthing off, some drunken bigotry, and almost a drunken fight. Those are always the best, the "almosts". You know the kind, where there is shouting and griping for ages and ages, but a punch never gets thrown.
We had that on Sunday night. The beer pong table broke somehow, but in any case not fatally. It fell over, and a couple of screws popped out. Nothing 10 minutes with a screwdriver couldn't fix. This led one already drunk guy to try to hunt down any perpetrators, the perpetrators' friends, mothers, lawyers and delivery nurses. It all got a bit heated, but no punches were thrown.
The wimps.
It took so long to eventually pan out to nothing that we'd pretty much finished cleaning up by the time they came back inside. They bitched about the now vanquished perpetrators for a while longer before we were able to force them all out.
Once more, I cannot remember if I invited myself to stay the evening, or if I was invited by Jillian. Once more, however, I stayed. And once more, nothing beyond kissing happened. I swear. And if I get any more comments along the lines of "Why didn't you just fuck her!?", I'll be pissed off. I do things my way (badly), you do things yours. I'm happy that it works for you.
Once again, we lounged around in bed until stupid o'clock in the afternoon, which meant that I eventually got home at around 4. Not bad going, considering I was stone cold sober the night before. Usually a 4pm rise from bed signals a very, very heavy session the night before. Like this Saturday told me Friday night was. More on that one soon.
I went to another friend's place on Monday evening to watch a DVD with my usual group of friends. Dodgeball, I believe it was. They'd all left the Halloween party quite early (as per usual, it must be said. They have an aversion to being around the Americans after 11pm), and had gone into town. Hence they had no idea what had happened to me after I left.
They asked what time I'd got home, and I said the immortal line "about 4 this afternoon". Smooth.
The looks on their faces were priceless. As you know, I have the reputation of being the Asexual Worm already, so for me to stay at someone else's place was quite something in their eyes. I had to field all manner of questions, including fending off the suggestion by one of them (J, the drunken American girl who I had to carry home with Jamie a while back, as a matter of fact) that it might have been a guy. Just because I'm not out pulling everything in a skirt that moves, as she does with any guy within arm's reach, it does not make me gay. But she would not fucking drop it. Fuck's sake!
I was deliberately being a bastard and not saying who, because my sense of humour is tickled by seeing them all squirming and getting miffed at not knowing who it is. Yes, I'm a git like that. They asked if it was serious, and I said maybe, seeing as I'd stayed round there on Friday too. This really caught their attention, I can tell you.
I did stress that it was only kissing, nothing else, but they were still intrigued. They even texted Jillian to ask her if she knew who it was, which I found fucking funny. She replied to me, asking how quickly word spreads in this town, so I had to let her know what was going on, and that I was toying with them.
They were still going on about it all of the time that I was on the bus with them, and I left them still uninformed as I got off at my stop. Yes, I'm a bastard and a git. So hate me.
What's going to happen with this girl? I can tell you're itching to know. The truth is I'm not sure myself. I don't know how I feel about her, or if I think it's going to go anywhere. Perhaps I should wait until I've written up this week's events before reaching a conclusion. I don't like pre-empting myself on here if I can help it.
Plus it leaves you all in the dark a little, which greatly amuses me.
Yes, I'm still that bastard.
