I Cannot Believe You Did That...

Sitting here in this internet cafe again and sobbing my eyes out on the inside. You see, I sort of lied when I said things were going great with T. Things are great with this T, BUT not great with me. He is wonderful, sensitive and sweet like the men one dates should be, but it's me who has the issue this time. I am mortified over an incident that happened Thursday night.

OK. Thursday night we went out just like we've been doing maybe three times a week here. I was wearing my brand new black silk dress and feeling pretty gorgeous in it. Everyone stared as I walked down the street, or maybe they didn't and I just imagined they did which, really, is just as good. I felt really great, despite the crazy grandma "knickers" I was wearing due to lack of clean clothing. I hadn't shaved my legs (which I decided to let free of pantyhose) either. But I felt beautiful in my brand new outfit.

T thought I looked good, too. Oh, you should have seen him. All pretty like in his blue Paul Smith suit (he's VERY concious of what he's wearing) with a tie I didn't like but no one asked me. We had white wine at a classy bar around Bond Street and then a shot of Jameson at a nearby pub. Feeling particularly romantic in the streets walking home (by now it was midnight) we decided to get a room for the night.

OK. This story should have had a happy ending but it doesn't. A hysterical ending I will laugh about for days once I'm safe in America but not now when I'm here in Britian. T, before I get into this situation, is snobby like I am and easily disgusted. And, as mentioned before I like this guy, so part of me actually cares about chewing with my mouth open and enjoying my disgusting meals of Subway and my own wonderful cooking... I aim to impress!

Oh, but it wasn't in the cards. The hotel was gross and disgusting and made our room in Paris look like a palace. I spilled chocolate all over the white sheets which left some awful stains, as previously mentioned I didn't shave and even had on scary grandma panties. Great. And I stood there in all my untoned glory in front of this man, who even has that chiseled muscle men in cologne ads have; you know the indent just over the hip... (I didn't know real people actually had that!!!) I never felt so disgusting in my life.

Until what happened next.

Well, it just so turns out in my twenty one years I have never had the shame of quiffing in public.

OH, but God is a strange and mysterious Woman... and I assume She had it in for me. For at the WORST POSSIBLE MOMENT, I let out the loudest string of quiffs for what felt like a grueling 100 years... He actually had time to ask, "Casey, what's happening?" inbetween.

I.

Wanted.

To.

Die.


Oh, but T, winner and fabulous person till the end stayed with me anyway. I spent the time before I went to sleep thinking of ways I could disappear (osmosis? apparation? simply walking out?!) and bargaining with whatever higher power was willing to listen that if they could simply turn the time back I'd join Greenpeace, throw my self into a volcano as human sacrafice, shave my coveted hair and become a monk, anything.

Nothing.

We woke up the next day and had a sweet morning, breakfast and a kiss goodbye as my train left and he went to work. Laughing at the whole ordeal. I didn't expect him to call again, mind you this is a man easily disgusted, but he did and we spoke later that night. We made plans for today, Sunday, and he called again today. But it is Father's Day, and his brother flew in.

I don't know if I believe him to be totally honest, and am sitting here feeling rejected and gross. I don't blame him for cancelling. I cannot believe what this man is putting me through; I just want everything to be so perfect around him, and oh, all that worry, it just messes up in the end. Under ordinary circumstances I'd say, "Well, this is me, take it or leave it," but as much as I try to hide it, I do like the guy. I've always said that if I'm going to be let down I'd rather be let down rudely, like "Fuck off!" then "Casey, I feel terrible, let me take you out tomorrow." I just wish Ash were up, or Andy were around, or Sher, anyone, to bitch to. But as we're on different time zones this is kind of impossible. Cory wrote me, though, talking about "Oh, when you get back we'll have a birthday drink and maybe more, who knows..." only making T look even better and thus making me feel worse about what happened.

I wouldn't call me again, either.

So another sad story is developed and I'm about to wallow in my own miseries. I'm allowing myself anything I want for breakfast or, lunch now, as it is late. Anything to make me feel better. I just want to cry. Of all times for that to happen to me!!! I know, it's funny but really, I'm not laughing right now. And do I see him tomorrow or save him the trouble of having to reject me again and just say, "Oh, well I leave on Monday, have a good life..."

Although, one good thing has erupted from all of this, I'm actually astarting to look forward to going home. I tried to rember my phone ring last night, and I couldn't. It's such a different life, going back to paying the bills and working at a job I hate and doing the same things day in and day out, being single and pathetic and without a hot half Egyptian WHO THE WORST POSSIBLE THING THAT COULD POSSIBLY HAPPEN IN FRONT OF DID.

Of all people this could have happened in front of. The first person I genuinely respect and date at the same time. I wouldn't have cared half as much if this were Jonathan, or Joe, or Derek even, or any of the stupid guys I've dated. Even Cory! But this one...

I feel marginally better now that its all out on the internet, the whole world can laugh at it. We can all have a drink and sit back in the park as I will do today, relaxing and enjoying the spoils of youth and what disasters parted us from our good men and drew us into the bad ones.