KNOW WHEN TO FOLD 'EM!
On Friday I visited a friend I’ll call Hal, went to Bikram Yoga and then sashayed into the evening for an internet date. At Hal’s I shared melon liqueur with tonic water, drank black coffee (no milk available) and ate icecream with chocolate sauce. This was before Hal even lit up a joint.
As you may or may not know, I can’t partake because I don’t really want to. Do you want me to move slowly, find it hard to speak and then fall asleep? If that was the goal, then that would be the drug for me! I politely declined, but of course must have accidentally inhaled during the course of breathing in the small living room space.
As a result, doing Yoga in a heated room ended up being very difficult indeed. I thought I was going to faint or vomit, or maybe both. Maybe I could vomit and then fall into it for good measure. I spent most of the class breathing deeply through my nose, lying flat on my back, sweating profusely. Fortunately the nausea and light headedness passed and I ended up feeling amazing. A few women in the changing room were really kind to me. One girl, stripped clean of any fat whatsoever, said she noticed I was completely grey at one point and was ready to perform first aid if necessary. Aw, how nice is that?
I showered and drank copious amounts of water, changed into my ‘innocent blue frock’ and turquoise shoes ready for my date. I was quite ready to meet with someone pleasant and boring and make the best of it, but he ended up being attractive with sparkling blue eyes and a ready smile. Yum.
He’s one of those people who gets better looking the more you look at them. I didn’t blurt out how much I liked his nose or anything, the way I might usually do when I fancy a man.
We’re seeing each other again next week. I was a bit more forthright than usual and he really appreciated it. I’m normally afraid of hurting people and tend to tip toe around a little bit, always trying to make sure I’m not misunderstood.
I told Lisa how I spoke to this lovely man and she said
“oh if he can take that then he doesn’t have a big ego. That’s good”
A man who is excessively egoic or too fragile won’t cope if you’re a bit full on, but the one who can take it is obviously not afraid to laugh at himself and at life.
Installment Two of Internet Dating Nicknames:
Today dear ones, I decided to search under nicknames using a simple formula. Who, I wondered, might nick name themselves something really stupid, like ‘dickhead’? Well, it turns out, more than you’d think. I would guess that many of these have been created as a joke ... but what if some of them were not? What then, would this mean? It would mean we have way too many dickheads in NZ.
Search 1: type in ‘dick’
These are my favourites.
Dickosaurus (32, Auckland): this is kind of cute actually. Least offensive.
Dickname (52, Auckland): his name is Dick and so he thought it would be really cutesy to play on that fact. He’s been given a lot of shit about Dick all his life, so now he’s going to play it like the Muppet in the episode where Kenny Rogers sings “the gambler”. Know when to fold ‘em Dick, know when to fold ‘em.
Dickwad (72, Auckland): this one is a joke. A man of 72 isn’t going to call himself Dickwad. But what if he did? What if it was a nasty, smelly, angry old man jerking off in his crusty old Y-fronts and telling people to fuck off?
Dickcheez (52, Nelson Bays): Likewise, I can’t see this being someone’s real profile. Why would someone admit to dick cheese?
The winner in the dick search is (cockin’ drum roll please):
DICK HOLE (Dunedin, 20): This could be a sad country song –
“I’m in Dunedin and I’m sad and lonely
lookin’ at my dick and wishin’ you’d phone me
You know I don’t love ya but I want ya to blow me
ohhhh, my dick hole, ohhhhh oh, my magic dick hole!
(imagine enthusiastic crowd joining in)
Sing it with me!
I asked you if you’d sit on it
but you want no part of the magic slit
cos it’s all clogged up with shit and grit
oh, ohhhhhhhhhhhh my magic dick hole!”
Sorry. That was uncalled for. It appears that my humour might fall under ‘horrible teenage boy’ category at times. So be it.
Search 2: ‘bum’
The only good one that came up was BUM CHUM (46, Wairarapa), and I’m glad it’s in capitals, because you know, the message may not have otherwise got through.
Search 3: ‘wank’
Wanky (28, Upper Hutt): Oh wanky, I’ve longed for this connection. As soon as I saw your dating nick name I felt this stirring in my heart and knew we were meant to be together.
Wankey (26, Otorahanga): So this is special – you wank, but it’s a key. You’re a clever young man. If only you were in Auckland!
Search 4: ‘lick’
Lick clit (24, Christchurch): Christchurch might be falling apart, but at least there’s a young man doing his part. Oh Lick Clit, you inspire me.
Lickmymince (24, Rotorua): Most intriguing! So, do you really have a plate of mince you’d like me to lick, or are your genitals so mutilated that they resemble mince? It’s quite confusing, I’d love to know more, but Rotorua is a long way to go. Tell you what, throw in a visit to the Polynesian Spa and maybe I’ll consider it.
Sunday 8th January
Ah, it’s still raining folks. Watched “Never Let Me Go” last night. Dark, depressing, sad and yet quite satisfying. I must be over my depression if I can watch something like that. I came to the conclusion that it was a clever way to demonstrate how people do not question the status quo, that the people who are cloned do not rise up and rebel against what is inhumane and disgusting because it’s ‘for the greater good’.
I also liked the simplicity in it – that we all need to have a reason to live, and to love and be loved. The value of life increases when you have to fight for it.
Speaking of value, I have a friendship of 18 years that has finally died. I had done a prayer of sorts awhile ago, asking for that which needed to die in my life to do so, so that new growth and goodness could come in. The following day, this friend, who I will call Rose, got annoyed with me about something trivial. She didn’t communicate properly about it, and it followed an old pattern in our friendship that I’ve become weary of.
Nothing I ever do or say reassures Rose; she’s always measuring the friendship, making mental (and literal) notes of anything I do ‘wrong’. Years ago she wrote a long letter to me listing all the things I’d done wrong in the previous year, attacking me and saying how selfish I was. Her timing was brilliant. I was recovering from the worst breakdown I’ve ever had or am likely to have in my life. The things on the list were bizarre, as if she’d been scratching around in an old barrel to find fault with me.
Things like ‘you didn’t light the candle for my birthday’, when she had told me she wasn’t sure she wanted me to even do it! When I pointed this out, she refused to even hear me out. She said that none of it had ever been misunderstandings, that I had purposely done these things to hurt her. Um, right, because that’s what I’m all about.
Most recently I’d asked if I could stay at her place for one night when I was in the midst of my lovely ‘surprise depression’. I needed a friend; I needed a change of scene. I was a mess.
She said no, that wouldn’t be possible until the new year (which was a few months away at the time). Instead I asked Lisa, and not only did she say yes, she treated me like a Queen. The contrast was glaring.
God knows, I did still try this time. I emailed saying I wanted to save the friendship but that she needs to take responsibility for her emotions. She wrote in an email that she won’t explain herself or take ‘all the blame’ and that the friendship was over. Blame for what? I don’t blame her. I think that once again, she’s imagined a rejection coming from me because she rejects herself. This has nothing to do with me. She’s imagining all sorts of hurt where none exists, because she needs to be a victim, to play a role she’s comfortable with. And no, she doesn’t read my blog, never has.
Farewell Rose. It was a pretty wonderful friendship, but a lot depended on how willing I was to play the part you assigned me. I don’t need it anymore, but I will always hold love in my heart for you. It would have been great if you’d had the courage to admit you over reacted, the courage to be the strong one in the friendship for once.
Life is too wonderful to spend time trying to prove to someone that they are lovable. You can never assure someone else enough. You can’t debase yourself enough. You can say sorry when you’ve done nothing wrong, but again, it will never fill the hole inside them. You have to let them go with love and hope they find their way. I feel good. I know I have been a fucking awesome friend and given absolutely everything I could, but I can’t sacrifice my soul. That’s asking just a little too much.
Instead, I have time for friends who allow me my humanity, who are willing to talk about it if they feel hurt, and I do the same. Otherwise you end up shutting everyone out, suspicious and fragile, willing to judge others and make them guilty.
Here’s to love. x
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