6 September 2011

THE STRAIGHT-ISH GUY (SAGA) CONTINUED (UGH)

Ok, I know. There's a little tone in the title. Believe me after this story, I will have so much tone, I could miss a week at the gym. Well, maybe.

Let's get up to speed.

I know, right? All sounded peachy keen bean. Well The Straight-ish Guy (or as I am calling him now, Cuntbag Fucknose) gets in contact on the last Wednesday of my holiday to arrange a something on the Friday night. Actually, what he said was:

Getting back to London today, but leave again Sat, what you doin Friday night?

Me: Friday sounds good, shall we have dinner in town?

Ok, so, I would like to explain that I was completely misguided by an Idealistic Lesbian on that last text - she said, "Take the bull by the horns, Loz and just suggest dinner". Look I love Idealistic Lesbians as much as the next person, but I think her next word of advice would have been, "And perhaps after dinner you could take a look at the Ikea catalogue together on the way to the animal shelter to rescue a family of Guinea Pigs". So, no, I won't be taking the bull (dyke) by the horns again, thank you very much.

Cuntbag Fucknose: I'm in the office in Bromley Friday arvo so dunno when I'm back but we can def catch up. Will let you know...:)

*Groans and rolls eyes at Idealistic Lesbian* Right, so basically he doesn't want to have dinner with me EVER, but what then...drinks? Or a 330am booty call like the last time?

So, anyhoos, I go deep into Date Prep Overdrive. It is ALL about the prep. I even clippered my own ass. Let me tell you, it is no mean feet to straddle a mirror, trying to not knick your mangina with a Remington Pro Power Hair Clipper, all the while having your crack winking back at you in the reflection.

Lord, being gay sometimes can test your nerves.

So, needless to say, totes looking shit hot. Feeling great, feeling validated.

Friday night comes. Sitting on the couch waiting. Having a few drinks to relax. Looking at the phone every now and then. Waiting. Having a few more drinks. Checking that the ringer volume is adjusted to an audible level. Still waiting. Getting a bit drunk. Checking my inbox just in case a message has slipped past me. Midnight now. Totes shitfaced. Reasoning with the phone. Kissing it and asking it to *just ring*. Pass out. Phone in toilet.

Right, so, that happens and I hear nothing from him. Then the other day, roughly 2 weeks later, I get this:

Cuntbag Fucknose: Hey mate how are you? Sorry that Friday never happened, don't take it as excuses but with the family in town and a stupid early flight to Berlin on Sat it was all too hectic...you all good?

Firstly, fuck you. Secondly, totes too little, too late. And thirdly, FUCK YOU! So, I haven't texted him back. It has been 5 days. Basically, I am taking the most passive aggressive approach and not texting him back until he sends another text realising that the last text was totes inapprops. Right? My God, I even exhaust myself. Basically, I think I have kind of fucked myself in the ass on this one. The sexting has completely devalued any relationship I hoped to have with him. He thinks of me so insignificantly that he will wait until 330am in the morning to call or he doesn't call at all. Ouchy.

I keep oscillating between three Beyoncé songs which accurately describe my feelings at that moment:

Best Thing I Never Had - when I am feeling empowered
Why Don't You Love Me - when I am not feeling empowered
And Run the World (Girls) - just coz it's a shit hot song

Once again Beyoncé speaks to a generation.

Continue the story here.

2 comments:

  1. Oh sweet heart :-( I'm so sorry. I was heart warmed to read it going sorts ok previously. Damn those straightish guys...

    ReplyDelete
  2. So funny/devo'd loz. Love you xoxoxoxox

    ReplyDelete

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