How do you communicate best? Speaking or writing?
For me, it’s definitely writing. I’m much better at writing a scathing email than I am having a go at somebody face-to-face.
How do you communicate best? Speaking or writing?
For me, it’s definitely writing. I’m much better at writing a scathing email than I am having a go at somebody face-to-face.
Tell us your funniest relationship disaster story.
I can’t believe that I’m about to write this…
I remember this one night I was out clubbing with a group of friends, and in true cliched form, I saw this guy across the floor. Our eyes met and it was electric. Now, we had never actually met before, but we had seen each other out at the same venue once or twice. Up until this moment, I’d never actually noticed him. I was still dancing with my friends and he threw a smile my way.
I had one of those moments where I just assumed that he was smiling at me, but then realised that I could actually be horribly wrong, and he’s smiling at somebody else behind me instead, and I’ve just made a fool of myself. Well done. So because of this insecurity, I actually stopped dancing to turn around and look at all the other guys behind me, to see if I was right… I didn’t see anybody looking, but I might have missed it. Besides, he was the kinda guy that seemed somewhat untouchable. Ruggedly handsome, a great physique. You know the type – the tall, really attractive guy, that only is ever seen with other guys who look exactly the same. (SIDENOTE: just recently a new internet phenomenon on Tumblr has surfaced called ‘Boyfriend Twin’… you can check it out here).
This was one of those guys, and I was the complete opposite.
So after standing around looking like a bit of a dork, I turned back at this guy who was just sitting at the bar with a drink, and by this stage he was having a little laugh. He then pointed in my direction.
‘Me?’ I mouthed the words and pointed at myself with an inquisitive head tilt. He smiled, nodded and mouthed ‘Yes! You!’.
He nodded again.
…and then I kinda ‘fan-girled’ out a bit. I called the guys in for a little huddle in the middle of the dancefloor and told them what had just happened. I felt like the cheerleader who was just asked to the senior prom by the captain of the football team. The guys were a bit surprised as much as I was, but told me to go for it. I almost didn’t even want to go over there and talk to him, simply for the fact that it would just be feeding his ego even more, but then I kinda knew it would seem rude if I didn’t.
…but not wanting to give in to his ego won me over, so I stayed on the floor dancing with my mates for a while longer. Sure enough, he danced his way over to me, and almost instantly, I realised that my friends had completely deserted me, and were all watching from the sidelines. I was soooo nervous. We couldn’t really talk much over the loud music, but he tilted his head, gesturing for me to follow him, and stretched out his hand for me to grab and follow him.
He led me out from the dancefloor and into another one of the bars, where we were able to catch some fresh air and actually hear each other talk. He introduced himself, and I tried as best as I could to play it as cool as possible. There was no way I could fan-girl out in front of this guy. I simply refused to. We spoke for a while, until one of my friends came over and interrupted, and whisked me off to the dancefloor and demanded that I tell him absolutely everything that was said during our conversation.
Just as I was finishing the relay of information, this guy, (let’s just call him Steve*) came back up and squeezed his way inbetween my friend and I – basically telling my friend to leave so he could dance with me. My friend was slightly offended and behind his back mouthed out ‘RUDE MUCH?!’ and went off to find the others.
Turns out Steve had seen me here a couple of times before, and loved watching my friends and I dance the night away. He enjoyed just sitting back and watching the people, as we both knew it could actually be quite an entertaining experience.
We knew that the club was going to be closing soon, and he asked me where we were planning on going afterwards. I said I wasn’t sure, but I’d ask the boys what they were planning on doing as they were also my ride home. Without hesitation he grabbed my head and turned it to the side and spoke directly into my ear “hows about I take you home after a late breakfast at my place?”
Whhaaaaaattt?? Was he…? did he just…? Does that mean…? I was a bit taken aback by him being so straightforward. Truth be told, I was quite terrified. I’d never gone home with a guy from a club before because it was something that really scared me. I’d heard so many stories about guys being drugged, raped and / or attacked by a guy they’ve gone home with. You don’t know this person. You don’t know if they’re genuine or if they’re a complete psychopath. It was that uncertainty that scared me the most, but I threw caution to the wind and agreed. I went to tell my friends what was happening and the reaction I got from them was a mixture of happiness, excitement and concern. Being the good friends that they were, and knowing that I was quite nervous, they said they would actually follow us to his place, note down the address just as a safety precaution. If I got scared, I had to send them a blank SMS and they’d be on their way immediately. It sounded extreme, but I wasn’t taking any chances.
We decided to leave and we walked to his car. He held my hand and even opened my door for me… what a gentleman…?! and we headed off to his place.
The in-car conversation was rather awkward. It was different seeing this guy in more adequate lighting – he looked rather different to the dark mysterious guy from the bar. If anything he was actually more attractive outside the club. We got the basics out of the way, what our names were and what we did for work, where we lived and what tv shows we were currently into. When we arrived in his driveway, I got a txt saying ‘ADDRESS CONFIRMED’ and I turned around to see my friends car drive past. I felt a sense of relief and he took my had and led me up the path to his front door.
He opened the door, which opened up to an open plan kitchen / dining / living area. A few dim lamps were already on to provide some mood lighting, and there was music softly playing in the background. I instantly cringed at this guys arrogance. He clearly left all this on in anticipation of brining somebody home. I guess it didn’t matter who it wAs. It was such an instant turn off, and my opinion of him began to begin dropping . He offered me a drink, and I just asked for water, the whole time watching him like a hawk just to make sure he didn’t slip something into my drink.
I’ve seen my fair share of horror movies. This is usually how it begins before you wake up in a bathtub full of ice and missing a kidney. For somebody so cynical, even I was amazed that I was standing in this guys kitchen!
We adjourned to his couch and just talked for a while. He could tell that I was nervous and I told him that I was nervous and quite intimidated because he was so attractive… But knowing that that would just inflate his ego too much, I quickly countered with a couple of remarks about how arrogant he seems to be… Using all these terrible cheesy ‘pickup lines’; leaving lights and music on to create ambiance for when he brought his trade home etc. He was quite taken aback by my honesty and started laughing. He told me that no guy has ever spoken to him like that before, and without hesitation I told him that I’m not like every other guy. He laughed again and started to stroke my arm telling me that he could tell I was different.
Conversation soon turned into kissing, and kissing soon led to clothes being removed. Soon enough he pulled back, stood up and led me down the hallway to a bedroom. He pulled me in close and we fell onto the bed and well… y’know… One thing led to another… But after a few minutes of heavy passionate kissing and hands going everywhere I noticed that, well, little Steve wasn’t too interested in saying hello.
Having never encountered this before, I really didn’t know what to do. There was an elephant in the room (and yes, pun definitely intended) that was being completely ignored. I couldn’t ignore it and asked him whether he was enjoying himself. He said he was and didn’t want me to stop kissing me. I kinda drew focus onto the deflated elephant and asked if he wanted me to leave. I wouldn’t be offended if he wasn’t interested. He exhaled loudly and it became immediately clear that I’d just humiliated him. He admitted that he had a bit of a problem, but he just took a little while to… Um… ‘Get the party started’. He said he didn’t need Viagra or anything like that, instead he asked me if I was into dirty talk. Having never tried it, it was kinda not the best situation to try it for the first time. I think I was just as embarrassed having to ask him to demonstrate, and when he did, I started giggling uncontrollably.
“You have got to be kidding me, right?!” Nope. He was serious. So I tried and felt so stupid, but then I saw how into it he was getting. Each to their own, I suppose! I took this as a sign to really get creative, and it certainly had the desired effect. Turns out Big Steve should really come with a warning sign. Just the sight of it was extremely intimidating and terrifying at the same time. Immediately I knew that this ‘experience’ was going to be quite limited as there was no fucking way that thing was coming anywhere near me.
We spent a while fooling around, and then he suggested we have a shower, as we both smelt quite bad from being at the club, so we moved into the shower. The water went on, and the steam swirled around our naked bodies before steaming up the mirror. He quickly washed himself and then excused himself to go to the bathroom. I took my time and wrapped a towel around me before returning to the bedroom.
I walked through the door and was stopped in my tracks. There, in front of me, was a very naked and ripped hottie laying out a black plastic sheet on the bed, with a lovely collection of accessories dumped on the floor beside the bed. In the dim light I couldn’t quite see what it was, and must have been staring at it looking rather puzzled.
The smell of amyl began to fill the air and he bent down to pick up a leather mask and a gimp mask.
The wave of pure terror that instantly washed over me was just too much to deal with. I couldn’t stay here. I needed to leave. This was most definitely NOT what I had anticipated.
‘What’s all this?’ I asked, curious, nervous and scared all at once. ‘Oh, I thought you might like to play with some toys and stuff and, y’know, have some fun!’
‘Oh, um, I thought we could have just done that by ourselves… I’m not into toys or role play… and definitely not leather or masks or any of that kind of stuff…’
He walked over to me, and put his arms around me. I thought he was going to kiss me, but when he fumbled with my wrists, I realised that he was trying to handcuff me. That was the deal breaker right there… in that moment I knew I needed to leave.
I broke away from him and explained that I don’t do any of this stuff, especially handcuffs!! I walked over to my clothes on the floor, and purposefully grabbed my phone out of the pockets of my pants. I quickly turned my back to him and sent a blank SMS to my mate, knowing that they would be about fifteen to twenty minutes away (providing they came straight away).
Good ol’ Don Juan could see that I was somewhat distressed by his… um… enthusiasm into our night together, and quickly backtracked as much as he could. I was quite surprised that he was so quick to pack everything up and push it aside, but as he was doing so, I was getting dressed and planning my exit strategy – just in case things went sour.
He came up behind me to spin me around, and began apologising profusely. He said that he was far too presumptuous, and he shouldn’t have been; but was surprised because most guys he brings home seem to just go with it.. I reminded him again, that I’m not one of those guys – I’m different.
“But I really want to fuck you. You’re so hot! I know what guys like you are like in bed, and it’s so fucking hot. And let’s face it, you wanna fuck me too!”
I could have vomited right then and there. GOD! The ego of this guy. If anything, that last little outburst made me want to leave even faster. I thanked him for an unforgettable evening, and made my way through the house to the front door. He asked me one last time not to go, and I replied saying that I just simply couldn’t spend any more time with somebody who was so completely full of themselves.
I walked through the door into the crisp night air, and he told me that I was missing out on a fantastic experience, and I’ll never get the privilege ever again. That stopped me in my tracks. I turned 180 on my heels and stormed back up to his front porch and told him right to his face that the only reason he is so full of himself and exudes so much revolting bravado is because he finds temporary comfort in making himself out to be something more than he actually is. Perhaps if he wasn’t such an egotistical wanker, then he’d actually be able to have a normal conversation with somebody and meet a normal guy and fall in love, instead of trying to fill the sadness and emptiness within himself with constant anonymous hookups. THAT is the privilege that he would never experience unless he changed and stopped being such a wanker.
He stood there, staring at me, completely speechless, and I turned around and walked off down the street. As I turned the corner, I called my friends who were a few minutes away. I told them where to meet me and soon enough the eery silence of the suburban streets was interrupted by the sound of my friends car. I hopped in the car and we headed off to McDonalds for a completely play-by-play of the entire experience.
Do you think you do a good job of keeping problems in perspective?
I will admit that as I’ve grown and I’ve matured (read: become a heartless bastard who’s dead on the inside) I’ve certainly been able to remove emotion from the equation when faced with problems. I can look at a problem and look at purely the facts and make a judgement. Something which I’ve never been able to do.
However, in saying that, there’s no denying that I certainly have my moments where I will get all fired up in the heat of the moment and say shit because I’m full of emotion that I don’t necessarily mean, and basically act like a child, because I can’t put anything into perspective.
I have noticed moreso in just the last couple of years that I really do have this ability to remove emotion from a situation and become quite blunt about things. To some it makes me seem like a heartless bastard / nasty bitch – moreso if I’m not siding with them (usually because we’re friends and they’re actually the ones at fault), but I come across as just being cold-as-ice instead.
Now that I find myself sitting here doing some more self-analysis (this whole blogging venture has been great for doing that!) I sometimes tend to be quite black-and-white with decisions. I find that there are too many complications, or too many people involved, or too many process to achieve a result, which really should just be quite straightforward and simple… but never is. Which, in turn, really drives me fucking crazy. It shouldn’t be so difficult.
…and this is where we insert the thesis about my non-existent tolerance levels.
I just don’t have time for drama. I don’t have time for bullshit. I don’t have time for half-a-dozen people to rally together to form a committee or some special group to discuss the pro’s and con’s about what to include on a registration form, or a confirmation letter. Are you fucking kidding me with this shit?? God, it’s no wonder I’m so mentally exhausted at the end of the day. I have to put up with so much bullshit. I think this is why I just take ownership of almost everything that I do with work, because if nobody else is involved, and I don’t have to consult ten different people about what I’m doing, then life is much easier. If people don’t know about it, then I can’t be questioned. If it fuck’s up, then I’ll admit that, and I’ll own it. Simple as that.
The total contradiction to this, ironically, is that I really hate confrontation. Most of the time. If I’m in a bad mood, however, then bitch, you better strap yourself in for the rage that I am about to unleash at you. It’s quite sporadic, and it can change in an instant – like the wind. I can be fine one minute, then BOOM!! Full of white-hot table-flipping rage. If I’m asked to get involved with solving a problem, then I’m usually looking at both sides of the argument and trying to help each other understand each other. But if I’m in a bad mood, I’ll spell it out for you and shut. that. shit. down. Because when I’m in a bad mood, and you have a problem that requires my help, then I’m sure as shit not going to waste my fucking time on your ridiculous childish bullshit. If I have to hurt somebody else’s feelings in the process… so be it.
Tell us about a time you bent to peer pressure.
Hmmm… I’ve never been one to give in to peer pressure… I’ve always thought that it was ridiculous and I always wanted to be in control of making my own decisions, y’know, like a normal person.
I was always the one person thinking ahead when others would make suggestions for things to do… and being the pessimist that I am, I would always anticipate the worst-case scenario. I would make calculated decisions to remove myself from situations that would otherwise make me feel very uncomfortable – however in doing so, had an impact on my social life and the friendships that I had.
The more times they all wanted to get together and do something, I would always politely decline or make up an excuse not to get involved, and when you do that too many times, you just stop getting invitations, and friendships fall by the wayside.
I remember one particular night, I was back home visiting during the holidays. it was the year that I had moved to Melbourne, and everybody else from high-school had also come back to town, and we had all planned a big night out altogether to have a great big catch up. It was tipped to be an incredible night… it just didn’t turn out that way.
It started off great. A group of us met up at a friend’s place, and then we walked around the corner to another friends place to get some more people, then we headed down to the first pub / club / bar and over the course of a few hours, more and more people joined our group and the fun began to build. People were drinking, music was pumping, there was laughter and dancing and although I had not been wanting to go out and see these people, I found myself actually having a great time.
By the time we arrived at the next venue, more people had arrived and everybody was having so much fun…
Then one of the girls ended up having one too many drinks and started shooting her mouth off. She then started tension with another group of people that were at the same venue, but then when she was confronted, pretended as though she had no idea why they were so upset with her. Finally one of the other girls she was antagonising had had enough and pushed her and told her to “shut (her) fucking mouth”…
…and then it was on.
Allow me to express this with gifs…
It all starts like this
and then after a few drinks, it turns into
and then in turn becomes more along the lines of
and our friend was all like
and then when the other girl had moved away, our girl, C, would be all
which would piss this girl off even more, and so she’d be all
and then our generally calm and mild-mannered girl, would turn into some kind of nutcase and all of a sudden threw her drink down and was all up in this chick’s face like
And so whilst everybody else is trying to pull them apart, and suggesting that we leave, a select few of us were just sitting there thinking
So eventually, our friend gets taken out by security, so we decide that we’ll call it a night, a few people decide to leave, but the majority of us end up walking the entire way down the main street to the other end, and walk one of our friends 3/4 of the way home, before we have our usual pit-stop at the service station to grab an ice cream / chocolate bar etc.
On our way, we start seeing a few cars driving past us very slowly. Some of the people in our group soon recognise that the cars belong to some very shady people from a very shady part of town. Turns out that the girl C was hassling is the girlfriend or sister or something of one of these guys… and these are the type of people who drive around with baseball bats in their cars… just in case. It was at that point all I wanted to do was just leave and go home and basically get to safety.
Everybody started getting nervous, but then the cars stopped passing.
I had a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach.
Sure enough, as we began to walk around the curve of the road, a couple of blocks ahead of us was a group of these people… including the people from the other group at the bar.
Being one who doesn’t like physical violence, I knew if I stayed, I’d end up getting my arse kicked and end up in hospital. I voiced my concerns, and said that I wanted to leave, but then almost got into a fight with these supposed friends of mine for wanting to bail and save myself. ‘She’s your friend too, you need to stick up for her. You need to help us protect her’.
Fuck that, I had nothing to do with this. I’m not the one running my mouth off. I’m not the one picking fights. I’m not the one so drunk I can barely walk. I’m not the one who started all of this. I mean for fucks sake, we’re not even really friends… we never were. We went to school together and were always nice to each other and that’s it… Bitch is on her own as far as I’m concerned.
Then it became more about supporting everybody else. Strength in numbers. Stand up for friends. Don’t be such a pussy. Blah blah blah…
I was stuck. As much as I wanted to disappear, I couldn’t.
I remember by this stage it was about 2:30 – 3am and there we were in the main street having a stand off. A couple of people from the rival group approached and wanted an apology. Our girl, C, by this stage, was barely able to stand, and I was one of the people holding her up. She was barely able to string a sentence together, but when she was asked to apologise for her behaviour, she managed to get some words out, it’s just that those words happened to be “go fuck yourself, you fucking slutty cunt whore”… or something to that effect…
Clearly, not the sort of thing to be saying when you’re being approached by a gang.
So rather than having our street brawl be like this
the girls started it off
and then suddenly…
I kinda wished that it hadn’t escalated the way it did, hell, I wish none of us were even put into that position, and before I knew it, I had a few people near me wanting to beat me up, and I tried talking my way out of it, and talking some sense into them ‘hey guys, look, I don’t know you, you don’t know me, I don’t have a problem with you, so there’s no reason for this to get any worse than it has to be’ and they had a moment where they actually stopped and thought it over and then just as they had stopped advancing towards me, *BAM* I got smacked right in the face by some chick who went to hit somebody else who was standing in front of me, but ducked out of the way at the last minute.
I felt immense pain, and everything was a bit blurry, and she actually stopped and apologised for hitting me, but I’d seen red. If I was going to be in a fight, then I was going to be in a fucking fight!!
Just as I grabbed somebody by the throat, the cops suddenly came around the corner and drove past… they didn’t actually stop, they just kept driving, but that was enough for the rival gang to suddenly run off in all different directions.
One minute they were there, then just as soon they were gone.
We continued on our way down the street, bruised and bloodied. Had our ice creams and then made our way home.
Is this what happens on weekends? These people have fights all the time? NEVER AGAIN!! Never again was i going to be involved with this group of people if it’s going to lead to me being involved in fights.
I woke up the next day with a semi-black eye and swollen cheek and bruised knuckles. Part of me felt like a bit of a bad-ass, but the rest of me was just in pain and full of regret. Regret that I ever listened to those bitches.
Share a time when you were overcome with guilt. What were the circumstances? How did you overcome your guilt?
It was when I was still living at home with mum. I had met this guy who, back then, I thought was so hot. He was also a former dancer, and I’d met him several years prior, but only when we competed against each other.
It was purely by chance that we happened to bump into each other and this time we were both a bit older… he was only 2 years older than me, but back then, although I was 18, the thought of even seeing another guy freaked the shit out of me, let alone seeing a guy that was older than me. It was outrageous.
It was also a complete secret.
Because I was juggling so many different things during this time: studying full time, dancing at two separate studios, plus rehearsals for a musical theatre production; I literally felt as though I was doing 18-20hr days… Then I met B.
He turned up to one of our dance rehearsals as he was friends with one of the other guys in the show, and I remember being half-way through one of my routines in the show and I looked up and he was suddenly sitting right in my direct line of sight, and he was staring right at me. He smiled and I completely forgot what I was doing.
I was a bit infatuated with this guy. I was so in awe of him when we used to compete because he was such an amazing dancer, but he was so god damn full of himself and so arrogant. He knew he was incredible, and everybody was beneath him. If I met him now, I’d be so disgusted, but back then, I hated him, and I was jealous of him.
After that rehearsal, I just left straight away. I couldn’t think properly, I was so exhausted, I just went home and crashed.
The next night, he turned up again, and I coudn’t focus. Why was he even there in the first place? During our rehearsal break, G comes over to me and he’s like ‘Oh my god, so, that guy over there can’t stop talking about you. He wanted to come back tonight just to see you and talk to you. Girl, he’s so into you, and it’s fucking awesome. Go talk to him!’
I was too terrified. I said no and avoided eye contact for the rest of the night.
I had put my hand up to come in on the weekend to help construct and paint sets, and I was working away with a couple of other guys from the crew and B walked past the studio and saw me through the glass and came and said hi. It was one of the most uncomfortable conversations I’d had. I’d never had a boyfriend, let alone kissed anybody, hell, I hadn’t even come out to people – well, except for a couple of my closest friends in the show.
A couple of days later I found myself back at his place after rehearsals making out on his couch. Not long after that I regularly found myself sneaking out of his place in the middle of the night, cycling home through the thick fog, and sneaking into my house.
This went on for a couple of months. Nobody knew. It was such a big secret. I was constantly lying to mum about staying over at friends places during the week – she didn’t know who they were or have their numbers, so I know she couldn’t check up on me and call them. But I was more terrified of either
a) being caught sneaking in;
b) being confronted about it;
c) being ‘outed’ and / or
d) all the above
However, it got to a point where he was starting to pressure me into actually having sex with him. Just the thought of it terrified me. I knew it was going to hurt, and I’d heard so many horror stories about it – things like tearing and bleeding and incredible pain, and I’m thinking ahhh, no. There will be none of that.
Then it headed south, really quickly. I got too freaked out and just stopped replying to his messages. I stopped visiting him. He started calling and texting me all day long wanting to know what I was doing and when I’d be coming over again. He’d then start waiting for me after rehearsals… at that point I started getting lifts home with friends, just so I wouldn’t have to see him.
He then started following me. Waiting for me outside the library when I was there studying before dance class around the corner and then rehearsals straight afterwards.
Then one particular day he followed me home. And despite trying to keep a distance from him, it didn’t stop him from shouting out to me. Finally, I’d had enough and snapped.
I did a complete 180 and stormed up to him and grabbed him by the collar of his t-shirt and told him to leave me the fuck alone or I’d put him on the ground in a mound of pain. I told him I couldn’t see him anymore and that he was being too intense and obsessive and his stalker behaviour was the icing on the cake and I couldn’t handle that.
He, in turn had a big emotional outburst right there on the footpath.
Sorry B, I’m done.
He told me he loved me. I told him I didn’t want to see him again and that he needed to stop contacting me.
I walked off, locked myself in my room and bawled my eyes out. What the hell was going on… did I just go through my first break-up?? I was an emotional wreck and worst of all, I had absolutely nobody that I could talk to about it.
it was horrible.
Tell us about a bullet you’re glad you dodged — when something awful almost happened, but didn’t.
I think one of the situations that stands out the most was when I was still living at home with Mum. I think I was 18 and I had just returned from an emotionally exhausting visit to Sydney.
I had gone up there to spend a week or so at my grandmothers place, and whilst I was there, I was spending my week (and all my money) attending multiple dance classes at Brent Street and Sydney Dance Company. After only a couple of days, my (now deceased) grandmother and I had a massive fight this one argument. I don’t really remember what it was over, but I was actually quite shocked and upset over something that she had said. Something about me being a burden, and, oh that’s right, I confronted her about overhearing her conversation with my Uncle the previous day, in which she told him that I was stealing from her and was just using her so I could get money.
I remember when I heard that conversation, I left her place and went for a walk and called mum in absolute tears – upset because of what she had said, but moreso that it was coming from my grandmother!! In saying that though, she was a bit of stubborn ball-busting old lady, who was so set in concrete in her ways, she would refuse to listen to logic and reason… In hindsight, I guess it was also one of the reasons why we clashed so much.
…but that, again, is a whole different story.
So anyway, this one day I get home from the city and we have this big fight. There and then I pack my bag and tell her that I’m done with her, and no longer want anything to do with her. And I walked out the door.
As I’m walking down the driveway to head towards the train station, I’m fighting back this uncontrollable urge to completely break down into tears: I hadn’t actually planned to storm out like that, nor had I planned on exactly what I would do after I stormed out.
So I walked down the driveway, turned the corner and got to the park and had a small emotional breakdown. I didn’t want to call mum. I wanted to sort this out myself. I’m a resourceful person, I could manage something. Then I remembered, a friend of mine was meant to be arriving in Sydney today. I called Georgie and found out where she was staying, and after crying on the phone, she said I was more than welcome to crash with her for the next two nights before I head home.
What she didn’t tell me, was that she had made a friend on the train to Sydney. When I arrived, I met Dileep. He was a gorgeous, tall, dark, Sri Lankan guy with an incredible athletic body, and unbelievably flawless skin. He was beautiful. I’m not surprised Georgie and Dileep were instantly attracted to each other… beautiful people tend to do that. Like attracts like, and all that jazz.
So over the next two days I got to know more about Dileep. Fascinating and down to earth. A real mummy’s boy. Loves his family, and lived in Melbourne earning a pretty penny working at a historic and prestigious hotel.
We had such a great couple of days together. We played tourist with Dileep. Took him to Bondi; took him out clubbing; shopping; he took us out for brunch and dinner, it was such a fantastic time. It wasn’t until I saw him naked in the sauna, and saw him naked, that I realised exactly why Georgie was so fixated on Dileep.
**DISCLAIMER: Just for the record, no, we weren’t naked in the sauna, nor was it *that* kind of sauna. It was the Hotel sauna, and I was wearing my boardies. He was in (well-packed) speedos, and burnt his bum on the actual heater element. We doused him with cold water, but he still had to go to hospital and got quite a severe burn, and subsequently a nasty little scar. The heather melted a small part of the speedos to his skin, and had to have them surgically removed. It was rather terrifying at the time. Poor guy.
So, when it was time for us to leave, Dileep had decided to head back to Melbourne at the same time. Georgie and I were catching the train, and he convinced Dileep to catch the train with us – just so they could spend the last few hours of their ‘relationship’ together. Once we were on the train and halfway into our 8-9hr journey, Georgie convinced Dileep to stay in town with us for a couple of days.
However, Georgie kind of didn’t ask his parents if D could stay with them. He, for some reason was still convinced that they were unaware he was gay.
Girl, Blind Freddy would know you were gay at twenty-paces. He’d hear you swishing as you walk and know instantly. *lol* So, naturally, they asked if D could stay at my place. I called my mum and explained the situation and she was fine with it. It was strange, but she just went with it. (My mum is pretty awesome like that!).
We finally arrived home around 2 – 2:30am, and Georgie’s mum picked us up from the train station and dropped D and I at my place. I introduced him to my mum, then we got organised for bed.
The following night, when we got organised for bed, I went to bed and crashed and left him sitting outside talking to his family on the phone.
Being the heavy sleeper I am, I’m usually completely unaware of anything that happens whilst I’m asleep. In saying that, when I woke up the next morning, I was missing half my pyjamas, Dileep was spooning me, he was snoring, and the door was open. I kinda freaked out for all different reasons, ‘OMG THERE’S A HOT NAKED GUY SPOONING ME! OMG! GEORGIES BOYFRIEND-SLASH-FLING IS SPOONING ME!! OH GOD, WHAT IF MY MOTHER WALKS IN? OH GOD, WE’LL HAVE TO HAVE THAT CONVERSATION!! HOW DID MY TOP COME OFF? WHERE IS MY TOP? I NEED TO PEE!! HOW DO I GET OUT OF BED WITHOUT WAKING HIM UP?’
I slithered my way out from under D’s arm, army-rolled out of the bed onto the ground and found my top, put it on and just as I put my top on and walked towards the door, mum appears in the doorway, ‘sorry honey, did I wake you up? I thought you boys might be up sooner and I cooked breaksfast. Eggs, bacon, toast. Ya hungry?’. I wasn’t really paying attention, because I was too fixated on my racing heart wondering if mum had previously seen me in bed with a naked guy.
OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD!!!
‘So THAT’S what I can smell. Well, I was just getting up to pee, but it smells awesome. I don’t know if I should wake him up?!’. Mum walked off back to the kitchen whilst I went to pee.
OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD!!!
I walked back into the bedroom, closed the door and sat on the edge of the bed. Behind me I heard some movement and then felt a hand on my back and this smooth Sri Lankan accent, ‘What are you doing? What time is it? Are you coming back to bed?’.
OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD!!!
Turns out, nothing happened at all. I waited until later on when D was in the shower, and I called Georgie and told him what happened. Or, what didn’t happen to be more precise. He said that’s just what he’s like apparently. He just likes to cuddle.
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t relieved when Dileep announced he was returning to Melbourne. Georgie, naturally, was devastated and heart-broken. His whirlwind romance was drawing to an end, and like the good friend I am, I was there to hold his hand and talk some sense into him.
Are you good at what you do? What would you like to be better at.
Sometimes I think you’re asking these open-ended questions just to make me go on and on about all the possible answers I can give you.
Come on, ‘what am I good at??’ Really?? Ask my boyfriend 😉 hehehe.
I’m good at a multitude of things:
What would I like to be better at??
...I don't do laundry.
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