Don't you wish you were British?

Mood: Thoughtful
Listening to: She Wants Revenge

Posted Saturday, February 26, 2005

We ought to have a celebration every Saturday. Saturdays are special days; whatever I'm doing, they always end up the highlight of my week. Lately, my Saturdays have been slotted for things like quick recall tourneys and sleepovers (lol, only one of those), and last weekend, I worked on Friday (which could've been Saturday--it felt like it), relaxed on Saturday, Sunday, and Monday. This Saturday I worked again...Got into Pets Plus at 8:30 a.m. and worked till just before 1. It was a good deal, considering that I don't get paid for doing this for Mom, I just do it out of kindness. In return, I get to come to the library and hang out, I guess. Lol. So what's been going on...Let's see.

First off, I think I'm falling head-over-heels for a British guy. I love, love, LOVE English things--I call myself an Anglophile, and at every opportunity, I think about England and when I get to go there. Hopefully, that will come within the next five years, otherwise I think I'll perish! But this British guy...I've known him for two or three years, I don't remember which. He's very nice, and I've always been rather fond of him. I know him through an online game, which is very shaky ground to begin liking somebody, but it happened. So one night, in January at sometime, he began to really lay it on about liking women (lol, that's a pretty broad statement!), especially in bed...And I dunno. We had been having a conversation about how my mum tries to give animal medication, and he had suggested that I might have eight nipples, four legs, and a wet nose. As the night progressed, I noticed that his spelling was getting pretty wonky, and when I suggested he needed to warm his fingers up, he asked me, "What do you want my fingers to be doing?" Part of me just relented, and I asked him if he liked girls with wet noses...And I don't remember specifics, but both of us were pretty hot at that point, and becoming even more attracted to him was easy. So since then...We've had an interesting sort of "relationship," if you want to call it that. We've never said anything official about it, but there's a constant reminder that we ought to just be sleeping together all ready, and he mailed me a sweet Valentine's Day card, pic included. He also called recently, but we couldn't understand each other, so we had to hang up. One thing I noticed is that he seems to have a deep baritone, and an indecipherable accent, lol. Part of me is very, very attracted to him, but there are cons to this. First off, he's 21, going on 22, and he lives in Britain. I don't know if he's who he says he is, tho I believe him, for the most part. (I've spoken to a lady--his sister--and she seemed to be pretty honest, so this helps my case.) My parents don't know about this, another mucho grande bad thing. If they found out, well, my internet days would be over. I want to tell them, but they already believe I live a pretty much nonexistent dating life (not true, really), and keeping a serious lover over the INTERNET would strike them as unhealthy.

Hmm. I've got to mull this over. My friends are convinced this man is a rapist, determined to lure me into his bed so he can rape me and then chop my body into lil bits, in Britain, where they can't do anything about it. I have to take this sort of thing with a grain of salt, lol.

Cheers. -SG

 

Mood: Rotten to the core
Listening to: A Perfect Circle, "The Outsider"

Posted 2/9/05

It's been over a month since I last blogged--that feels weird. Or if it hasn't been a month, then it's been very close to it. It seems like there's been a century passing from Christmas (?) to now. And a lot has occured since then.

The ViRus thing blew over, thank goodness. It was kind of like the drama that wasn't. It held all the materials to be a huge, overblown ordeal (and it the gauge reached very close to that!), but it blew over. And my romance life has taken a turn for the worst. I began to crush on one of my friends, a not-so-cute but brainy and sweet guy. He's brillant. But I wasn't his "type." I think it's just b/c I'm ugly. I dunno. If you saw me on the streets, most ppl would say, "Well, she's not particularly pretty, but she has elements of beauty," where as kids at school go, "DAMN, is she ugly!" Like it's some sort of crime. I've always been the girl labeled the lesbian. I have manly features, combined with a certain dose of shyness, and I get an instant brand. I hate it. But they're not the only ones who think I'm lesbian--Mom's convinced that I just haven't discovered my true sexuality and that I will eventually come out of the closet. One would think a parent wouldn't make such crass judgments against one's own child, but nothing's below my mother. And my lack of a dating life and fondness of ppl hasn't helped.

ARGH--I have to explain myself on this one! I don't want to go leading ppl on again. Look--there are certain ppl I think I are lovely. In their own special way. They don't have to try. Every time I look at them, I suck in a breath and think, "Wow, they're beautiful!" It just happens that way. It's two girls so far. And I don't LIKE them in a lesbian-like way. There are other ppl I know and I think every time I see them, "They have the best inner beauty I've ever seen!" B/c it's true. Like the guy I liked. A friend of mine. But no--everyone must instantly assume I'm gay. I hate it! I don't have anything against gay ppl--but I do have something against being labeled as one of them when I'm most definitely NOT.

Okay. This took all the fun out of blogging. I think I'll go meditate on worldy sins or something deep and intellectual like that. Cheers.

-StarrGurl