6 October 2008

Went down to the Chelsea drugstore to get your prescription filled...Was standing in line with Mr Jimmy And man, did he look ill...

Only four more days in the Salt Mine...

There's a big few months of live music coming up over here. Last week I took Salette to see Gotye at Bush Hall in Shepherd's Bush on the end of his European tour. The venue was awesome, small and classy, but he was a bit unwell and the place was full of drunken Aussies who'd rather chit-chat at the top of their voices than listen to some kooky kick-arse music. I've not seen him before and only knew two of his songs ('Heart's a Mess' and 'Learnalilgivinanlovin') both of which I kinda like. I'm geeking out over seeing Unholy Alliance on Halloween night - Slayer, Mastodon, Trivium - then there's Russian Circles in November, and Fantomas and Isis in December.

This week got off to an interesting start as Angry Man slipped the chain at the local post office when they lost not one but two of his packages. Then I got along to the local sexual health walk-in clinic for my first ever check up. Now that Salette and I are starting to get serious (I slipped a "Will you go with me?" tick box note into her purse, and administered The Frigid Test with spectacular results) I figured it was about time I found out just how skanky and diseased my boy junk really is. She got tested only recently (all clear, woo hoo!) so you might say there was a modicum of onus upon moi to do likewise (if I ever want to get laid again, that is). I can't decide if it's a sad indictment or a refreshing burst of enlightenment that the ultimate sign of commitment in these crazy modern times is a mutual sexual health screen. "I'm free of disease" is the new "I love you", and "I'll never hurt you" has been replaced by "I won't kill you with my dick." Who said romance is dead? And all I had to do was endure the ignomy of having a swab the size of a baguette shoved up my pee hole. A small price to pay to once more ride bareback on the saucy sexy gelding of sauce along the sexy beach of saucy sexiness.

I was intimidated by Salette at first...truth be told I probably still am a bit, but it's slowly turning into awe and admiration and amazement. It's not just how I feel about her, it's how she makes me feel about me. I'm a better person when I'm with her and I'm starting to see what she sees in me...I always suspected I was awesome. I know that I'm in love with her but I haven't told her yet; I've wanted to so many times but she calls me Swifty because she thinks I rush into things. It's not the first time I've been accused of falling in love too hard and too fast (wait, or was that sex?) Plus, what if I tell her and she doesn't say it back and it breaks the spell and I realise I've been hallucinating this all along? I had a nightmare that I showed you all the picture of us from Dr Phil's party and you all said, "There's no one in the picture but you." But I wouldn't say it because I want her to say it back...just because I want her to know that's how I feel and hope that it made her happy. Still, a little reciprocation is always nice...reciprocate my brains out, baby!

I've missed being in love: the fragility of it, the power of it, the indescribable joy and the unbearable pain of it. Love is the only contradiction Nature will tolerate. I feel consumed by her, like I can't expand fast enough to contain this feeling inside me. I have no recollection of my life before her and am terrified by the thought of a future without her. Do you think I've finally atoned for all the people I hurt and Baby Jeebus is allowing me to be happy again? Is she is my reward for enduring the wrath of the Harpies? Or did I go insane from loneliness and grief and simply imagine my perfect woman?

And anyway, I SO do not rush into things! Ok, maybe I do but only when I know in my heart they're real and they're right and they're worth taking a chance on. Otherwise I'm all defensive and Pat Benetar...ask anyone. I sense that she feels the same and I know she's been hurt before too; she's unsure and cautious and she wants to know that I'm not gonna run at the first sign of affection. Hardly! I'm like a starving puppy tied to the clothesline of neglect in the backyard of indifference who's getting his first proper meal of chunky Pal affection at the RSPCA shelter of love.

Little by little I sense her slowly opening the blast doors of the furnace of her feelings for me, and I'm basking in the heat. It's truly wonderful to discover someone who likes you just as much as you like them and to see them dropping their guard to let you into their fortress. I'm taking advantage of our trip to Paris to maximise the romance factor and tell her I love her in some super romantic location. Should I do it pre-shag or post-shag, do you think? Which would have the most impact? I kinda feel that mid-shag might lose some authenticity, or be drowned out by the moaning.

I hear from the kids less and less these days. I write every week but I maybe get a reply once a month or so, and even then it's only a couple of lines. It's hard not to take it personally but I guess this is the price I pay for leaving them. The price of my happiness was to lose the only two things that made me truly happy, the only two things I did right in this life, the two things I'm proud of and love the most, who'll always be the best of me. I only hope the trade off from them forgetting about me is that I start to fade from existence and become invisible so I can spend all my time in the girl's change room at the gym and become known as the Crying Pervy Ghost Guy.

No comments: