Girl and City

At noon today, I got a text, and before I looked at it, I thought, “Hey, it’s almost lunch time. If I hadn’t been such a doorknob around PLB the other day, we would be having lunch together.”
Then, I read the text.
PLB: Do you want to go to sushi for lunch?

YES!

I may have done a little dance.

Ah, I love the beginning parts of relationships…

Not that I’m in a relationship with him. Ahem.

But it wasn’t a date, because his roommate and another friend were also there. But at least he took the initiative to ask me to go. Plus, the other two people didn’t really know me, so I was, without a doubt, his guest. I wonder if he told his roommate that he liked me? Did she egg him on to ask me to go with them?

Whatever, it doesn’t matter. It was a good thing there were other people there, because I was still kind of nervous around him. I ended up talking to his roommate and friend more than I talked to him. I also told a few stupid stories because I can’t keep my big mouth shut when I’m nervous. Oh well, can’t be helped.
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“Is it me? Am I not girlfriend material?”
A quick coffee with WAF turned into shisha and whining over the Boys Who Don’t Want to Date Us (BWDWDU).

“It’s not you, it’s them. They want control, and we’re not girls that they can control,” WAF said matter-of-a-factly as she took a deep breath from the hookah.
We were sitting in a modern Middle Eastern cafe, sharing a bong of strawberry-flavoured shisha. It was only my second time, but I was quickly understanding the lethargic attraction of the suck-and-puff bong.

“You’re right, they’re both passive boys, aren’t they?” I realized, referring to HB and BAD. “It’s like, they can’t overtly exert control, so they do all this sneaky, emotionally manipulative shit to make us feel bad for being who we are,” I deduced, waving my hands vaguely as I tried to understand my own statement.
“Exactly. Just look at their girlfriends. They both chose girls who are completely submissive, completely dull, never go out, and barely speak. Those girls don’t require any effort to control, they’re practically wallpaper.” (more…)

I don’t feel like having drama plastered all over my blog, especially for first-time readers, but who am I kidding? My blog has always been about the drama.
Anyway, all the feedback for the previous post has inspired me to write the following:
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If you have any sense of foreshadowing, you’ll know are only two types of posts that could follow a three-night sleepover with HB:

1. Juicy, emotionally confusing, and morally questionable
2. Sensible, uptight, and boring

You’ll be happy to hear that my post is of the first variety. While it ranks high in the entertaining category, it ranks low in the my-proudest-moments category. So don’t judge, k?

I arrived at HB‘s to find him vacuuming. Apparently, he cared about making impressions, although this was not the first time I’d stayed at his apartment. Neither of us had planned anything for the first night, so we had dinner with his brother at a Korean/Japanese restaurant nearby. Then, we engaged in our favourite activity: wandering around The City. We walked through urban parks and impromptu art displays, we sat down on benches and stone garden walls, we held hands and linked arms. We were completely in-tune with each other, and conversation flowed endlessly. He never mentioned his relationship status and I never asked.
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Dinner last night with The Sisterhood was awkward, which is a first because us three girls usually have endless things to talk about. I hadn’t seen FF in nearly two months but neither of us really made an effort to call each other or anything. I think we both had to acknowledge that if it weren’t for ALS, she and I would not be in a sisterhood at all.

Even when I did relate my stories to them, their reactions were… strange. When I told them someone stopped me on the street to randomly take a picture of my outfit for a fashion blog, they thought it was weird and creepy, instead of congratulating me on what-must-have-been awesome fashion sense. When I told them my ibanker story, their reactions were almost disapproving.
“You are such a gold digger!” They joked. But something in their voices told me they weren’t really joking.
But they, of all people, know how not-interested I am in ibankers (or anyone of the Big Swinging Dick¹ variety)! They, of all people, should know how down-to-earth I am!
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1. Reference to Liar’s Poker. [↩]