All The Small Things

Before I write the rest of this, I want to make it very clear that I am referring only to the people with penises from Sassville, and not those hailing from further a field, or those with whom I am friends. This includes the husbands and significant others of my girlfriends, as well as lovely people like my grandfathers and my dad.

I’m probably referring to my brother, but not in an incest way – in a “I think he may treat other women with disrespect and that disgusts me and he should know better” kind of way.

 

Now. That being said:

  

ALL MEN ARE ARSES.

   

Friday night, I went out in Sassville, and was asked by all and sundry how GM was.

 

“I don’t know. We broke up.”

 

“Oh!… So your single then?” *evil glint appears in their eyes* Then BAM! BAM BAM BAM!!

 

(That my friends, is the sound of not so subtle hitting. Hitting. On me.)

 

I. Have. Only. Been. Single. For. Five. Days. Back. The. Hell. Away.

 

One very enterprising and extremely pissy gent arrived on my doorstep, and as I considered this person a friend, I let him in. We sat upon my couch, and ate some biscuits and dip (the snack of which I am most enamoured at this moment). We talked about his girlfriend, who has just moved away, and all the time with the BAM BAM BAM-ing. Eventually he got the hint that I wasn’t going to be participating in any shenanigans, and he left, saying “Well, I’m not getting anywhere here. I’m going.”

 

With friends like these, etc.

    

So Saturday I decided to be a good little girl and stay home, so as to avoid a repeat of the horridness of the night just passed. Around eight, as I was just starting to do my dishes, there came a knock at the door. It was The Tease. Now this in itself was odd, he’s been to my place before, but he would never come in. We’d talk out on the steps, or sit on the fence, or he’d pull up in his car, but he’d never come to the door, or in.

So I let him in, and he came through to the kitchen while I finished up my dishes. We just chatted for a while, then he say’s that he has to go out to his farm to check on a cow. Would I like to come? What an odd proposition… but hey, I like cows and baby cows, and most things cow related, as well as having an evening stretching out in front of me with nothing of interest happening, so I said yes.

 

So I went for a drive with The Tease, out to his farm. (For those who are not interested in any thing agricultural, you may wish to skip the next paragraph or two.) The Teases’ farm, might I say, is the prettiest, most beautifully set out, and even in the drought, quite the most beautiful farm I’ve seen. No rubbish tips, no wraps lying about, just lovely even paddocks with well-maintained fences, and fat happy moo cows.

 

We drove up to the house, and were greeted by two lovely working dogs. The Tease introduced me, and then gave a demonstration of their skills. They were really very beautifully trained; he could get them to do the most amazing things, just with whistles, finger clicks and hand motions. It was most impressive. (If you’re into that sort of thing. I can almost hear Mrs. Macca mocking me!!) He trained them himself, and was clearly proud of his achievements, as well he should have been.

 

Anyway, we then went into his house. He gave me a tour of the place, every room. Lovely house, built initially by his great great grandfather, and extended by his family in the generations that followed. It was just beautiful. I love old buildings, and this had all the prerequisites that make me go “ooooohhh”, like lovely ceilings and elegantly proportioned rooms.

So he then said that he had to get ready for a party that he was going to that evening, so he’d have to have a quick shower. I didn’t mind, and he set me up in the lounge room. He asked me if I was going to the party, I said no as I hadn’t been invited, to which he replied that there were no formal invitations and I would be welcome to come if I wanted to. I said that I’d rather not – the girl whose party it was wasn’t a particular friend of mine, and I just felt like a night on my own really.

 

So then he did a very funny thing. He went off to the shower (clearly not funny yet…) then got out of the shower, and came back to me wearing just a towel. Now I have seen The Tease in his footy gear, I’ve seen him in casual clothes, work clothes, and the like. But DEAR GOD. I never even IMAGINED that he would be THAT HOT.

 

PS: Am totally aware that my idea of HOT is not everyone’s idea of hot… I have however had this one independently verified by my work-sister, who has the most traditional view of hotness. The man is hot. Take my word for it. Take HER word for it. Her email address available on application.

 

Anyway, his sudden appearance, and his appearance full stop made me blush, and he noticed, apologised, and then went to get dressed. And this is where it got a bit funny. Funny peculiar, not funny ha ha.

 

Now if you have lived in a house for a while, you know its peculiarities, don’t you? You know where you can see if you sit in a certain spot. You know the spots where you will get a reflection around a corner, don’t you? If I sit on my couch, I know that I can see into my kitchen, part of my hall. I know that if I’m in the kitchen, that I can see the hallway reflected in the window at night times.

So why would a person choose to drop their towel and get dressed in a place where they are clearly reflected into the next room?

 

I DON’T KNOW EITHER!

 

(I just averted my eyes for the record… I really did!!! Honestly!!! Fine. Don’t believe me, whatever. What. Ever. I will maintain that I did avert them though, and you can’t prove anything. So there.)

 

So once he was dressed, he came back to where he had left me, and we chatted for a while. Then we headed back out to his car and he drove me home. And he let me out, and I went into my house, and went about my business. I lit some candles, sat on my couch with an excellent book, and some of the always-present dip and biscuits.

 

At about one am, I decided that I would go to bed. So I did. I consider this my prerogative, in my own house, to go to bed and get to sleep when I want. So I went to bed. And two minutes after I turned off the light, there was a knock on the door.

So I went out to answer the door, and it was The Tease.

 

I don’t even know what happened there. Why did he arrive on my doorstep? Why me? Why did he not go to any one of his other friends in town? Who knows.

 

He arrived on my doorstep, and asked if I could give him a bed for the night. I have in the past done this for other people, and having been to his farm earlier in the day, I know how far he lives out of town. So I said yes. Sure, I could make him up a bed for the night.

 

Long story short I guess, but the gist of it is BAM BAM BAM.

 

Isn’t it funny. Some things are too private and difficult to explain and complex in their very nature to even commit to words. I was trying to write about this, to write the long story, and I haven’t been able to find the words that encompass the mood and the moment and the movement, without painting one or the other of us in a light undeserved. He is a good guy, I’m a nice person.

 

There is undeniably been attraction between us from the outset, from the very first time that we met. Perhaps, at some time down the track, it may have even gone further than friendship, but now its just ruined. I feel awful, and I think he does too.

 

I guess I’m just trying to say that I felt that if he had approached me in a different way, at a different time, he would have gotten a different response, and that that response could have led to something beautiful. But instead, there were the two of us, each a little damaged, each hurting, and as a result, his overtures merely poisoned what pleasant feeling there was between us to start with.

He left, and I was left feeling that we had both made a grave error. Me in letting him in, and him in coming in the first place.

 

Sigh.

  

I just want some time and space.

 

People who are friends with GM should not be hitting on me.

 

People in general who are aware of my recent heartbreak and ache should not be hitting on me.

 

Sometimes, even when the hitting is intentioned to convey a feeling of softness and affection, it still bruises the person on the receiving end. And I’m tired of being bruised by people who purport to like me, love me even.

 I think I just want a couple of weeks to get over the last few months. That shouldn’t be too much to ask. It should be common decency that allows me that time, I think.