Let me start at the beginning, The Socialite came back from her vacation on Friday and saved me from a lonely night celebrating by myself. She dragged me off to the varsity RAG (Remember and Give), on the RAG farm. Not wanting to pay (the very high) entrance fee, if we weren’t planning on staying, we trampled into the dark, long grass trying to see if there was anyone we knew inside. Now, I don’t particularly like doing bundu bashing when I’m dressed to go out. On second thought, I don’t really like it anywhere or at anytime, so me complaining was inevitable. But off we went. Either I’ve lost some weight or my favorite jeans had some plans of their own, but they kept creeping down, which made them even longer than they already were. So I kept pulling them up, and after trudging through some funny smelling water (don’t ask, I don’t know, and I don’t want to know), I put down my car keys and started rolling up my jeans. Guess what I did next. Yip, you’ve got it, I left the keys right there in the middle of the bloody bushes. Luckily I found them again, or should I rather say The Socialite did. Realizing than we were ancient in comparison with all the first year students, we went to our usual place, where we found everyone we knew. I went and changed into a jean without any plans, only one that’s allowed to have plans is me. I however think my jean will fit again after the weekend. WEEKEND = EAT AS MUCH AS YOU CAN.
On arrival I spotted the candidate, I was hoping that he would go out, but wasn’t quite sure cause we have a strictly NO cellular, e-mail, facebook contact rule, which works the best. We don’t want to complicate things, if we’re at the same place at the same time we normally have a play date later that night. I did accidentally lose The Socialite with my car keys (again), she thought it would be safer with her. I stayed with the Playmate while she was on a guy’s back, who was the only guy we didn’t know, playing Wild Wild West. Fortunately she found me again, and for a change I had keys and managed to hold onto them. So after loads of drinks and shooters, we headed home. He had to follow me in his own car, cause he couldn’t quite remember where I lived. But then he turned right, when I went straight and I lost him. So I went home, thinking there will be no hot make out session with the Playmate tonight. I couldn’t call him, because I don’t have his number. Went inside, started undressing when I heard a car at the gate. He found his way to me, yeah! Play date back on! I just assumed he got lost, that’s why he took so long. (As you know; Assumption is the mother of all fuck-ups, he went out to buy condoms). Something that you need to know about me and the Playmate, there are very strict rules about what he is allowed and what not. I will never ever have sex with this man, strange but true. He never obeys the rules, we however never have sex and disagree about the rules the whole time. I just wanted a nice high school make-out session and was absolutely exh
austed the next morning cause I spent all night fending of his advances. He even left me with a few surprises (what he thought was funny pranks, and what I thought was immature childish shit). There were cupcakes on the kitchen taps, toothpaste on the bathroom mirror; I was soaked with water, full of mouse and body lotion and the absolute worst, my house keys in the trash. I resembled a wet, very irritated cat and as if I was in the mood to be searching for keys, AGAIN.Needless to say I was fucking furious, but I’m cured of the Playmate now, that wasn’t fun at all and won’t ever happen again. I’m working on being a more responsible grown-up lady at the moment. And he’s going to seriously screw that up for me if I keep seeing him for play dates. I feel that every time I screw up yet again, I at least have a clearer vision of what I don’t want. Which brings me closer to what I do want. Maybe I’m doing it backwards, but I’ve never been prone to doing things the right way. And if you don’t know what you don’t want, how will you ever know what you do want.
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment