Archive for September, 2007


Okay, looks like it’s going to be another late night. Not as bad as last night though? I never mentioned that but not important…just more PA ridiculousness.

I got a call today from my “Escher friend,” R. We were out last night killing each other again–well, there you go–late night. PA+ADD+Alcohol=Stimulant=No Sleep (for a long time.) He is either my arch nemesis or my identical twin in the alcohol arena. Or both. Anyway, I was outside this afternoon and he left me a voicemail:

“Hi, PA. It’s R. Call me.”

Now normally, his calls/messages are certainly a bit more upbeat. Hey, how are you, hope you got home okay, had a good night last night etc… This one did not sound great. I tried to call back within an hour but I couldn’t reach him. Now, R. is a bit of a Luddite. No knowledge of computers–he didn’t even have voicemail. So after taking care of some things I needed to do, I skipped off to the pub as I was fairly certain he would be there.

Good god. What the hell happened between last night and today?! He looked like he hadn’t slept in a week! Now, it was only about 1930 or so…I called about two hours earlier…he couldn’t have been there that long. Not too drunk? But he sounded like he’d been drinking for a week too! He couldn’t talk and was repetitive and not making a lot of sense. He was troubled but wouldn’t open up. Just glad to see me. That, he told me about 38 times. Okay…

Well, a couple of pints later, I was starting to become repetitive as well in my firm commands to tell him to get the hell home and go to sleep. We finally left. He could barely walk so I took him home and stepped inside for a bit.

R. lives with an absolute Depressive B. Boy, at this point, it’s like a big psychiatric/lunatic/insanity party? I’ve seen B. about three times–one of which was on the street. R. is amazed that B. even talks to me as he apparently doesn’t speak to anyone but R. I told R. kind of laughing that we headcases have this kind of sixth sense about each other, this bizarre, intangible sort of aura that emanates from us and we all just sort of gravitate to each other. Unless someone has severe Social Phobia? *rolls eyes*

Anyway, we get there and R. is still a rambling, fucking mess, B. is suddenly all chatty and doesn’t want me to leave and keeps timing my departure, asking me to stay for so many more minutes each time. B. starts offering me cookies, showing me his books…crap, he even began offering me all of these ones to take home and read! My reading is, as you all know, so poor right now…I took one that looked interesting but stopped there. I thanked him and politely told him that just one was enough.

I finally had to get out of there. I mean, not that again, I don’t care or that these gentlemen aren’t worth spending time with…I was and am just exhausted.

Never a dull moment, eh?

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I know I don’t have to post every day but I’m kind of bored so I’ll throw something up. Is my battery in the red? No, not mine. MacBook. I’m sitting outside. A little under half so all good until I have to go inside. My battery is relatively fine?

Crap, my back is sore. What’s up with that? When I came back from lunch yesterday I could hardly stand it. We have these awesome ergonomic chairs and I even have this funky footrest but I couldn’t get comfortable. I curled up and sat cross legged in my chair (but not the Lotus Position although I can do that) and just moused on my knee. That felt better. I need to go see a RMT. I get some benefit coverage from work so why am I not going? Because I’m an idiot?

I’ve told you all some horror stories from my pub but it’s not all bad. Maybe I should tell you some of the more entertaining or nicer ones?

It’s a very small Irish pub. Now being in Canada, of course it gets filled with Canadians but there are a lot of ex-pat UK patrons and ex-pat Irish ones. At times, you need to make the distinction. Most times. Not always a wise move to tell someone from Ireland that they are from the UK?

Being as small as it is, virtually everyone is a regular. Wow, everyone knows everyone else. It can be a bit of gossip central. But that’s okay. I listen, hear peoples’ stories. I don’t really engage–or try not to? But sometimes it’s hard! A lot of times, it’s just like, “Are you kidding me? No way!” I try to keep a lot of my personal details other than my mentalness and my sexuality private but I’m out to the entire human race about those things so who cares?

The owners are very nice but sometimes I wonder how they make any money. They spot people for drinks all the time. They keep running tabs (well, for all regulars) but for some of those, if they can’t pay right away, not to worry! Huh?

It is truly a “men’s pub” in that there are very few female regulars. If I do meet a woman there who has not visited before and does not know where the washrooms are, I crack this one…or sometimes I just pull this joke out to anyone as they don’t realize how this makes me laugh so hard: “Don’t wear your best shoes.” The reason for this is, the bathrooms in the pub remind me of gay bars that are busier than hell either during Gay Pride celebrations or just being plain old busy anytime. There are only two bathrooms and even though there are no signs to indicate as such, both men and and women freely use either.

I have never seen this happen in a pub, restaurant…anywhere outside of gay establishments. I have no idea why this is? For sure, the pub is an intimate environment where yes, everyone seems to know everyone else but I do find this rather bizarre. Use at your own peril, at least urine is sterile? *PA shakes head*

We had a music festival earlier this summer on my street and of course it was insane in the pub. Not only filled to the brim with regulars but people from outside the area. A royal piss up but it can be a royal piss up just about any night anyway. But during this festival, people can really go wild. Case in point here.

PA was talking to a guy she knows and his girlfriend. He was wearing this shirt or at least something close if this is a newer design. Now PA is a footie fan and although it’s not official kit, it’s still pretty cool. So somehow, the idea of swapping T-shirts came up. Fine, nice shirt! We did. He ripped it off right in the middle of the bar! Okay, no way. PA is not stripping in the middle of her local! I ran down to the lovely unisex toilets and took mine off. Heh. Ironically I was wearing one of my volunteer Gay Pride T-shirts. I brought it back up and asked if it was okay with both of them. They were all…”…yeah…woo hoo…Gay Pride!” Okay…

We have bands/musicians in there. Lord knows how some of them can fit with it being so small! Occasionally it’s just one guy or two with a guitar or something or other. Well, one night there was yes, an entire band with a guitarist, bass player, drummer and a harmonica player. The harmonica player had a belt full of harmonicas. There must have been about 20 on the belt. Now, I know they come in different keys and all of that but I was like, how many do you really need?!

I started joking around with him like I was going to reach into one of the little slots on his belt and steal one while he was playing. He just laughed. I spoke to him during one of their breaks and told him I was quite impressed by such an array. I joked again and asked if he had any spares that I could have. I have no clue how to play a harmonica! He told me that yes, he had some older ones at home and he’d give me one. Okay, whatever. He said, come back on this certain night in the future and he’d bring it. Okay, whatever part II.

I had completely forgotten about going back on that night. Okay, whatever part III. I did go back another night and they happened to be there. I walked in and he immediately recognized me and sort of waved with one of his hands while he was playing. I thought that was nice in a surprised kind of way but then I thought, oh no…PA the groupie? No…that I am not. Please do not let him think that!

So at a break again, just being an arse, I said, “Hey did you bring me my harmonica?” He told me that yes, he did. Wow. That’s really nice. He gave it to me and said whenever I come back and they are there, bring it and he’d show me some tricks. Shit, maybe I am some sort of “closet groupie.” No, not really. I’ve never seen them since but I still have my nice little pressie so if I want to make some funny noises around my apartment I can.

All the bartenders are female. Again, at least that raises the female population? They are all fantastic and love wee PA. I drink Harp there–of course, an Irish pub! Many times, I have been in, it’s the first pour. Now sometimes with first pours of kegs, it doesn’t always work so well. There’s lots of foam and head. With some of the bartenders and the owner, they may pour as much as they can into two pint glasses to let it settle and then a bit more in another glass to give me something to drink while I am waiting. This generally amounts to two pints? I am only charged for one. I’m not sure how often this happens with others but again…how much money does this establishment make?

And oh yes. A nod to one of the bartender’s boyfriend. He has a motorcycle and PA was commenting about how it had been so long since she’d been out on one. Her pint was placed in the fridge to keep it cold and he promptly took her for a ride. Lovely!

Despite a few bad apples, PA has indeed made some “friends.” Some she speaks to on a regular basis, some she just “knows” and can chat with. On quite a few occasions and it seems to be more frequent now, her entire tabs for the evening are being paid off by these gentlemen. I do not understand this strange phenomenon. Nothing untoward is happening. Or ever has. Or ever will.

So I guess that’s enough pub business. It’s quite a place, I suppose.

I bought some books and CDs at a charity sale at work the other day. Funny PA. More books to add to the ones that she already hasn’t read. Oh, but she can never resist the annual sale for the annual charity drive.

So I ended up with “A Brief History of Medicine from Hippocrates to Gene Therapy” by Paul Strathern, “The Best of the Brain From Scientific American” Edited by Floyd E. Bloom M.D., “Inside A Cutter’s Mind” by Jerusha Clark with Dr. Earl Henslin and “Written In The Flesh A History Of Desire” by Edward Shorter. I have no idea if any of these are good at all but who cares? They were a few dollars each.

The CDs?

“Extraordinary Ways” by Conjure One, “set free” by the american analog set and “…Waltzing Alone” by The Guggenheim Grotto. I also have no idea if these are any good either but no matter. They were even cheaper than the books. And the latter has probably the coolest packaging design I have ever seen! Worth it to buy on that alone. So if I find anything that’s aurally pleasing, you can bet I’ll be streaming it here.

Alright, end of boring post.


No, I didn’t get spanked *wink*

I went out for a two hour lunch today, had a couple of pints? I didn’t even realize how long it had been! I had a lovely time with a woman who had invited me out.  She has MS and I’m crazy–it’s all good.  Physical “disability” and mental “disability?”  Two peas in a pod!

Anyway, it had been a while since we talked due to my absence from work.  It took us a wee bit to set up the lunch but today we finally co-ordinated it.  Perfect, it’s a Friday.

So away we went.  She didn’t drink as she’s on a motorized scooter.  Best not to drink and drive? I had a couple.  What the hell? We talked a lot.  We had a great deal to catch up on regarding work and a lot to yap about regarding personal stuff too.  It was great.  But wow…two hours!

I get an hour for lunch.  But I never take my lunches.  So it should obviously even out, right? I told my boss (one of them) that I was leaving at 1300hrs.  I got back just before 1500hrs.  I tried not to look too drunk.  Well, I wasn’t really.  And I did eat.  But I am finding my focus is off and I have taken a vow that I will not work for the rest of the afternoon unless I absolutely have to.

We had a good little “gossipy” chat when I came back, my boss and I.  I kept my distance lest I smell like Heineken a bit too much.  But I had a cigarette before coming in–and some food, again.  Should be okay? Oh hell, my workplace is so lax, no one really cares if you go out for lunch and have a bit to drink.  Why was I so worried? Just the time factor? But yes, I joked with him that I never took lunch so who cared, right? He actually agreed.  Heh.  Everyone is happy on a Friday?

He was actually rather gloomy as he said he wanted to go out for lunch as he never did either.  I said to him well, we could go out for lunch! He thought that was a good idea.  Yes, more lunches outside of the office, drink up.  Work is boring.  So is this post but I have just under an hour and half to kill so I don’t know what else to do.  I think I’ll skip out a bit early today too.


Okay wait. I don’t mean that the blog love is long overdue. I’ve gotten blog love before so it’s not like I’m pining away for it, missing it like some heartbroken, devastated little PA, crying at her computer, just waiting for some blogger to reach out and touch her.

No. But if you want to, feel free. That’s great!

Poor, fishwithoutbicycle! Or better yet, poor me. fish is probably saying, “PA, you lying, bloody cow! I sent you blog love and even though I know you thought it was gubbins, I did it anyway.”

Well, I responded to fish that I didn’t think it was gubbins. I don’t! When anyone gives me blog love in any form of an award I never think it’s gubbins! But because it’s taken so long for me to get the damn post written and place the badge in my sidebar, no doubt fish really does believe that I do think it’s gubbins!

Now I tried. I did. But WP ate my damn post after I spent an hour composing it several days ago. So after “penis post” that was so easy to “get up” today at work (sorry, I still can’t stop with the wordplay…) I am determined to write this if it kills me tonight.

Now if you didn’t click on the “award” link above, there were three awards that all of the recipients could choose. Well, now…usually honourees are just given a badge and that is that. So, what should PA do? I had a think about it and at first, I thought I should be “conventional” but then I realized that there was something wrong with that. Something was bothering me about my original choice.

That choice was the “Rockin’ Girl Blogger” badge. The other choices were the “Rockin’ Boy Blogger” badge or the “Bodacious Blog” badge. Well, as far as the latter, it has/had this crazy, quite (in my opinion) poorly drawn cartoon face and was just…well, ugly! Even the font sucked! Apologies to anyone else who chose that one…sorry!

So I have decided to go with the “Rockin’ Boy Blogger” badge. There are three reasons for this and I am quite happy with each:

  1. I can not stand gender bias in any way, shape or form and it pissed me off to no end that the “girl” badge was pink and the “boy” badge was blue. That is ridiculous. If you have children, paint the damn walls neutral. Buy your children toys for both genders or if they prefer one over the other then buy them those–whatever they want. Just make them happy and don’t force them into stereotyped roles.
  2. Blue looks better in my sidebar. Good god, this blog already looks like hell as it is. But again, I haven’t seen Garland anywhere else in my travels so I’m sticking with it!
  3. I am in touch with my “masculine side.” I’m also in touch with my “feminine side” but just to demonstrate the former…I’m takin’ the “boy badge!”

So I’ve finally posted it pet. I’m so sorry it took me so long. Again, no reflection upon my appreciation.

Edit: Oh, no way. I do not believe it. The bloody image file is “corrupt.” I can’t upload it and put the damn thing on my blog. Well, I guess that’s it then. Poppet’s sorry…love. I tried but at least I got the post up? Finally?

Oh wait…one more thing…at the very least, I can stream a song for fish… 23 by Blonde Redhead that I actually discovered from her blog.

Edit: This post is so old but in all the craziness of trying to put it up, I still didn’t get it right! And now since I just got another comment, I have to rectify that…oh, six months later? It’s not the “Rockin’ Boy Blogger!” It’s the “Awesome Guy Blogger!” Duh.


Okay everybody, someone’s “pulled a Loreena Bobbit” in Kuala Lumpur–or near there. I don’t know how long this link will stay live on this site but I suppose you might be able to use the following search terms to find something later?

  1. Malaysia
  2. Penis
  3. Reattach (hey, lucky guy!)
  4. Motorcycle
  5. 11 stitches (hey, not bad work…pretty good physicians over there!)
  6. “Penal Code”–oh, I’m sorry…I just had to add that one as “penis” and “penal code” used in the same story or sentence makes me laugh for I am juvenile.

Okay, so I kind of gave away a lot of the details and it’s a short story (I don’t know if that’s any indication of or a parallel to anything else!) Nah…I mean, what else is there to say? Keep it it brief and get on with the other news? I mean, “chop chop!” Oh, I’m sorry again…I couldn’t resist that terribly bad pun…

So I’m not sure how often this sort of thing happens but read the last sentence. That’s not so great?


Irresponsible, idiotic, illegal, imbecile!

Well, it’s confirmed. He has ripped apart my ceiling. But that is not really why I am upset. I figured this would happen. On numerous occasions (about 562?) I have argued that my leak has come from the upstairs flat when the tenant had a shower. This has, in fact, been confirmed by both of us. My landlord was convinced that it was the rain. I repeatedly argued with him that no, it was not as it would still occur when it did not rain.

He wasted how much money I do not know on a roofer to patch who knows what and also rip apart the deck that the upstairs tenant has in the process earlier this summer. He still has not finished repairing the deck. He insists on doing the work himself and not hiring a contractor even though he is not capable of any of this type of work.

The upstairs tenant has been there for quite some time. She has told me horror stories. The landlord has entered her flat late at night without any notice (legally 24 hours is required) while she has been in bed in her pyjamas! He has done prior work there (even though she is still waiting–and has been forever–for more work to be done) and has used/touched her personal things (such as her iPod base station/stereo, coffee mugs to make coffee…who knows what else!) Go to the nearest coffee shop and get your own coffee!

I called her just now to see how things were progressing (she works from home.) She told me he knocked on the basement tenant’s flat. He was not home and the landlord entered it! Lovely! So is he entering my flat whenever I am not home as well?

And another thing. Recently he called me about a “stolen ladder” from the backyard shed. He said he had left the shed open while doing the roofing work and it was suddenly gone! I just about hit the “roof” myself. It was a message left on my phone so I called back and left him a message. I was quite terse and laid down the law about leaving the shed open and unattended as my bicycle (and pump that I thought had been stolen but was moved–and not by either of the other tenants) is in there. I do not want them stolen. I told him that I had seen the shed left open and unattended TWICE. That is unacceptable.

He told me that it would never happen as long as he was there. Really? I suggested I haul both the bike and pump into my flat if necessary. I am quite tempted still. The ladder apparently belongs to the upstairs tenant’s boyfriend. I found that out today and I guess he was using it? Still, don’t leave the shed and its contents unattended!

I tidied everything up nicely for his arrival with the plumber in my flat today but apparently the plumber only stayed a half hour. I guess it was deemed that was not the problem and source of the leak. But I think I forgot to close my clothes closet! Oh well, if he’s going to snoop, he’s going to snoop…it wouldn’t matter anyway? But the thought of him going through my underwear makes me feel just so wonderful.

I tried to place some things in rather strategic places as I have spoken to the upstairs tenant about some of these issues before. However, I couldn’t and can’t keep track of every possession I own. But if I find one thing touched, moved, (other than the things below the ripped apart ceiling) I will throw the biggest fit that I ever have in my life. And let’s not even talk about the fact of anything becoming damaged or going “missing.”

Ah yes…here’s another charming one. He and his wife are moving to Zambia! But he only told the upstairs tenant. Thank you. What about the other two of us? Why were we not told? For a while, we were all wondering just what was going to happen to us. Would the house be sold? Would someone or some company be called upon to manage the property? Would he be so out of his mind to try and manage the property himself from AFRICA!

So far, I have learned that there will be a Property Manager hired. This should and would be the best case scenario (provided that this person is not just as ridiculous as our dingbat landlord.) The absolute worst would have been a purchaser who decided to (re)convert the building to a single family dwelling and move in or rent the flats to family members. This can be done?

You know, when I met him (and I don’t know if this is a stereotype or not) I found out he was a “Man of the Cloth.” Yes, he is a minister. I gathered from that, he would be an honest, reliable and trustworthy man? As soon as I can, I think I need to find a new flat. After winter, however? Who wants to move then? Who wants to move, ever?

I even suggested today to the upstairs tenant that we all look for a big house, rent it and just bloody well move in together! All three of make a run for it and leave him in the lurch to find three new tenants all at once and swallow the cost of the lost rent while he’s waiting. We all get along, are all around the same age, smoke, are Mac users…why not?! Granted, PA pretty much likes to live alone but maybe some social interaction would do her some good if we’re all “pretty cool.”

My stomach’s been a bit off today…I think perhaps I now know why?


…fucking played psychologist/psychiatrist to a rather drunken woman.

That’s not very nice. I was just so damn tired, it was very late and I spent…I don’t know how long on the phone with her. I know her and the man she is very much in love with and we ran the gamut of Bipolar, meds, her history with Depression, her family…anything else? It was very draining but you know PA will always listen. Or you should know if you have even taken one peek at this blog.

The story is not pretty at all. I would say he is Bipolar I…probably not worth getting into all of it.

Anyway, sorry for sounding like such a cranky, little brat. You all (should?) know that I’d probably be quite happy being a psychiatrist.


Heh…I made a comment on my last post but shit…I can’t hold back in case other comments come in and people miss this. Another blogger found my last post about my potential protege and posted it on his (or her?) blog called Gay sex and naked men. Wow.

But here’s my happy, shiny link/Pingback! Okay, apparently not gay male sex and not exactly what the blogger was looking for but “nevertheless” still an interesting read.

Well, well.

I’m not quite sure what to say about this. I suppose I should be flattered in a lewd, lascivious kind of way. That’s alright. Shit, I’ve blogged and commented about my penchant for BDSM so why should a chance meeting with a young woman who would like me to take her under my wing sexually make a difference?

Oh, the power of the internet.

You know, there are really only two ways gain profit online. P0rn and gambling. This is true. Forget advertising. Even if you have a massive company and you try and procure other massive companies to sell their products on your site…it’s very hard to gain revenue. The model has yet to be solidified. Even in “traditional” advertising it is still difficult? I’m not sure. I don’t work in that area but I do know about a part of it in one sector–and it’s still difficult there. Based upon that, I would surmise that it’s the same and just as competitive across the board.

Regardless, this put a big grin across my face when I came home tonight. I did a lot of work at today, slipped down to the pub (again) and fucking played psychologist/psychiatrist to a rather drunken woman. But I know her and the whole history of it and it’s okay. PA can do that. Not a problem.

But in case anybody’s wondering…the phone hasn’t rang *laughing*


Okay, before I get to the subject title, a bit of a preamble as to how I am doing. Again, this will probably be a rather lengthy post but you’re probably getting used to them by now?

I’m still feeling the “Concerta Love.” I did decide to sleep in this morning as it is the weekend and I can afford to do so. And I’m a lazy sod. And it was the end of my first week of going back to full days at work and I really was (and am) exhausted.

So I got up, did the dishes and decided to get the bloody groceries! I mean, the cupboards are bare! I don’t know what on earth I have been eating! Lots of Ensure, indeed…and rice…and cereal. Soup but that’s all gone now. I have peanut butter but nothing to spread it on so I guess just grab a spoon? Utterly ridiculous. So off I went with my little cart and filled it up. I may go back tomorrow but I have so much to do. I need to fumigate my apartment from top to bottom as there will be a plumber coming in with my landlord on Monday to look at a leak I have had from the upstairs flat.

So groceries. I actually bought some broccoli. What? I haven’t bought any fresh produce since I moved in this spring. I am confused at my attempt to now try and actually eat something healthy. And may I also say that I did these things (the dishes, the shopping) all without ingesting a drop of tea. Do you understand what that means? Can you comprehend that? Let me repeat it for you: I was somewhat productive without drinking any tea.

This also confuses me greatly. However, I am now drinking my lovely Earl Grey as it is simply pure pleasure. I am curious if now that I seem to be rather…shall we say…”up” if caffeine will now make me a bit more…”zip, whee, boing etc…” Well, we’ll monitor that. If so, let’s find some decaffeinated Earl…oh dear…do they even make that? Oh, if not I will be bereft!

Anyway, I’m still not sure how I will fare on this dose and if I’ll end up falling flat on my face. Now, I don’t believe that there is any risk of “poop out” with stimulants. Once you’re there, you should be there? Actually, this is the only drug in the psych pharmacopoeia that you can take a drug holiday with–certainly if you are Bipolar and you start to feel yourself cycling in any way. But remember kids, don’t ever take a drug holiday with any of your other meds! Sure, if you forget a dose, then take it the next day but if you go off them completely, I’m coming to get you!

Just kidding. I respect peoples’ choices to drop their meds but a lot of people can really screw themselves up royally. I’d probably be dead.

So, alright…on to the pub. Yes, I am still going to the pub…I hear your sighs of disapproval, I can almost see your finger wagging.

Oh, ADD tangent: A kitty has just come to join me on my porch! A white one with one light brown eye and one blue eye! Oh…bye kitty! Heh…Concerta not working all that well *smirk* Kidding…I just wanted to give you guys a laugh. But no really…the cat did come by.

So I popped into the pub last night to blow off some steam from the Week Of Horror. I ran into my “Escher” friend who ended up going back after the night before and stayed there until last call! Crazy man. I sent him home to bed.

He asked me what I was going to do and I said I would finish my drink and go home as I had a really long week and should rest up. Oh no…other plans were afoot–much to my surprise!

I saw a rather cute young girl outside smoking as I went out for a cigarette and just started chatting. After all, very few women in or near my pub. She actually wasn’t “in” the pub, she was on her way home from work. Okay. So we were talking and getting along and she decided to join me for a drink.

I learned that she was somewhat new to the neighbourhood and with other people that I have found in the same situation, I always bring them in or if they are in the pub, I order them a drink. I feel that is a nice thing to do as my area is a very special part of the city. And well, maybe PA is just…I don’t know…I feel kind of bad for people who arrive in a new place and have nowhere to go or they may not know anyone. I mean, shit! It’s like, come talk to PA…

Anyway, things progressed and well…PA revealed her sexuality (of course, she was quite attractive so do you not think I was going resit flirting with her?) This girl was kind of intrigued about finding gay women in the city. PA was intrigued about that. It was then later revealed that this girl had a boyfriend and she said she was bisexual. Okay…well, whatever. That is fine. If you are still looking for gay women, I can tell you all about how that works here. So we delved into just how fucked up that entire situation is *rolls eyes*

She has this…wow! Joie de vivre. A real zest for life and sense of adventure and believes in taking risks. She reminded me of myself when I was younger. Ah…and there’s the rub. I didn’t even bother to play the “parlour game” that I mentioned in one of my last comments about people guessing PA’s age with her–or guessing how old she was. I simply asked her straight out. I mean, I knew she was younger.

Fuck me. Or maybe later that will happen. Or maybe I shouldn’t count my chickens. Okay, she’s 23. HA! Let’s do the math, now shall we? That’s 14 years my junior. But (again) reverting back to something that I just wrote, I do not practise ageism. Oh yes, and did I neglect to mention to you all that she is a dancer? Oh dear…

So we’re still talking and in my head I’m trying to think about this with some sort of logic, while I’m still flirting away, while she is not resisting it and it’s all getting rather strange when out of my mouth pops:

“You know, you’re so attractive. I really want to kiss you.”

Subtle, eh? Well, it certainly worked with My First Kiss From A Woman.

She didn’t really say anything but just sort of smiled so I took that as a negative and I recovered by saying, “Well, you have a boyfriend so I guess that wouldn’t really be right, would it?” I just smiled. We did keep talking, though and ordered another drink. I backed off on the flirting but then something must have gone off in her mind. She said, “I want to kiss you.” Huh? I simply agreed.

Now first kisses are always a bit awkward. You really don’t know what to expect. How on earth does someone kiss?! I’ve had some bad kissers in my time. Well, it was okay. She then told me she really wanted to sleep with a woman. Oh. I see. Brain starts ticking…so she hasn’t? Or she has? That statement sounded like a no. She then asked me to take her back to my place. KABOOM! I remained calm (somehow?) and asked her if she was sure. I’ve been down this road so many times before with regret in the morning from the other woman and disastrous results that ensue. She said that she was sure. I told her that sex was always better when sober. She agreed.

*sigh* What to do here… So many variables! 23 years old, attractive, a boyfriend, perhaps and probably never slept with a woman, take me back to your place? My head was starting to spin.

My ex-partner before my last ex-partner had never slept with a woman before. She was 40. Now PA is not judgmental and really didn’t give a shit. We all have to start somewhere, right? Well, when we broke up (PA ended it) she took it HARD. She even became a bit stalkerish. I vowed never to become involved in a relationship with a woman who had never had a relationship with a woman before ever again! Now, that’s a bit heavy handed, perhaps. Everyone is different.

Our area was starting to get crowded with a rambunctious group of drunken lunatics so we moved. We sat and held hands and kept talking. Then…

A man came in from another restaurant across the street from where she worked and she told me that he was always sort of harassing her about coming over to try his food and that in exchange, he would put in a good word for her or some such. She didn’t like him and didn’t feel comfortable with his seemingly constant badgering. I knew him–or at least had met him before. I told her that perhaps we should go in together, have dinner there and that might get him off her back. She thought about it and agreed that it might be a good idea.

We went outside for another cigarette and he followed. I thought this a little strange and yes, is this guy giving her a hard time? I looked at her and whispered in her ear before he could start talking and just said, “I’ll handle it.”

He kept going on and on as she said about her coming over. I launched into a huge speech about how ex-partner was a trained chef and she had worked at some very prestigious places (she actually had) and that as a result, I had learned a fair bit about food. I said that admittedly, I was not a restaurant critic but that perhaps I may be able to assist with his invitation to my new found friend. I then continued on to talking about fine dining in the city (as ex-partner knowing food inside and out, we did on many an occasion go to nice restaurants.) I started telling him about a very fine one and the he really needed to go there. The ambiance, decorating, food was excellent (it is true) but it was very expensive (that is true too.)

He shut up immediately, said thank you and left. My new found friend just looked at me in amazement and thanked me as well. I was thinking to myself, where the hell did I pull that from? Oh well, mission accomplished.

At that point, time to get the hell out of there. I finished my drink and walked her home. Prior to that, since she was new to the area, I asked her if she would like a new friend and she said certainly so I gave her my numbers. HA! Oh yes…please call me if you are interested in me? I gave her my jacket as she was cold. Manners never go out of style and chivalry is not dead. We arrived at her building and we went inside. Oh boy.

Second kisses are a lot better. You start to figure out what the hell you’re doing. And now the cat came out of the bag: She had never slept with a woman before. She said she wanted to so much. She demonstrated rather eagerly how much. I had to finally cut it off after quite some time. I mean, we were in the front stairwell so really… We talked a bit more and I tried to sway he from her strong desire to just jump right into the sack and explain the benefits of also getting to know each other, spending quality time together, the enjoyment of affection simply on its own. She agreed with all of that too. I’m wondering if she just might agree to anything *laughing*

So we’ll see if I get a phone call. I do know where she works so I suppose if I want to pursue this, I could always drop by and see if she’s around. Good god…what the hell… Oh well, at least it beats attracting men these days?


I had to wait to come home and put this one up as I wrote my last post from work. Have a listen and a read.

If I post another one and you read this later, “But Not Tonight” by Depeche Mode and basically, I don’t care if I get just one good day out of Concerta…this day has been worth it. I can’t remember the last time I have felt like this. And yes, at the risk of sounding repetitive, when I heard the song on my iPod going home after having my “good day,” I almost cried.

I met up with a friend…?…acquaintance?…tonight. An older gent, he knows the score regarding my sexuality but might like PA anyway? *shrug*

That’s a toughie but well, what can you do but still offer the hand of friendship as a gay woman to a straight man. I’ve been here/there before. You just need to be gentle and if things get to a level where someone’s feelings look like they are at risk of getting hurt, you need to sit down and talk about it. I’ve had a couple of male friends tell me that they were pretty…well, in love with me and that was difficult. I didn’t know what to say at first but we worked through it.

Aside: Why do I always attract straight men?

Anyway, he’s possibly (?) now getting into bestowing small gifts? Sweet, indeed and modest PA appreciates anything that people take the time, thought and put effort into when giving her a pressie! My, my! Are you kidding?

He knew I was sick over the weekend and offered to go out and pick up my DVDs, liquids, soup…whatever I wanted. Well, self-sufficient and independent PA is a bit stubborn in that area even though she can barely make it out on her own without a car now. Bugger.

So, anyway…we said we would chat later when I was feeling a bit more up to par. So we got together tonight. I was late, traffic delays (I hate being late!!!) so I met him at the table and saw this rather large “square-ish” thing sitting there. I couldn’t really see what it was other than it had some kind of pattern on it and that it was black and white.

I asked, “What is that?”

He said, “Oh, that’s for you. I knew you were sick so I thought I would get you something.”

WTF?

I picked it up and could not make head nor tails of it. He told me to flip it over and then flip it over again. It is/was one of those slidey square puzzles where you have to move the tiles all around to refit them back to the original image or picture. But this is the killer. The “original” image is on the other side (hence the flipping it over as we did) and it’s a bloody Escher!

Are you serious?!

I mean, I can’t do these things at all! Even if you’ve only got the least amount of pieces needed (sorry not a math person) and the simplest shape to (re)create. This one is about three inches by three inches. The square pieces are about one centimetre by one centimetre.

This man overestimates my intelligence.

Oh, and in case you’re wondering which Escher? “Fishes and Scales 1959.” He bought it for me because my rising sign is Pisces and he is into Astrology.

Again…very sweet. A nice way to end my day.

I know I’ll never solve the puzzle but at least I’ve got a neat little Escher thing that I can have lying about my place.