This is Monday and even though Monday is supposed to be my day off from the gym this week, I decide to still go and train because I need to stalk Superman. Let’s try to remember that I last saw him on Wednesday, then he wasn’t in on Thursday, then I wasn’t in on Friday, then it was the weekend. This makes it a total of four days without love.
Four days without love is not something to beat yourself up about really, but that’s only when you’re already in a relationship – not when you’re trying to start one. When you’re trying to start a relationship, it’s best to have regular and frequent meetings with the object of your affection, because otherwise you might end up forgetting what they look like and then you’re back on square one. And square one is the furthest away from love you can be.
So this Monday I go to the gym and Scott insists on coming with me, something which I’m not happy with, because I need to appear: independent, alone, approachable. In any case we turn up, and Superman is not there yet, so we start doing abs and then Superman turns up and I say bye to Scott and go over to do shoulders, near where Superman is.
Superman is wearing a t-shirt that is not destroyed in any way so I can’t use my tattoo line as I was planning to (I can’t see it – as far as I know he doesn’t have one) and I can hardly go up to him and say: “I remember your tattoo from the last time I saw you five days ago, so tell me more about that”, because that might sound a little creepy.
And unfortunately I have lost any sort of momentum I had with him two weeks ago when we chatted briefly about some exercise and now we don’t even say hi.
But that’s OK, I think that Superman and I both know that these are just minor mishaps in our long-term love plan and we’ll get over them, we really will, and one day we’ll be looking back and thinking how silly we were playing these stupid games, talking / not talking to each other, sideways glances burning a hole in our hearts, the blind yet quiet desire elevating us to unreachable heights and punishing us to the very core at the same time.
Then I collect Scott, we shower, and we go.
On the way home I get a text from Donnell, and this Monday evening Donnell tells us: “I am in Abercrombie buying an overpriced pair of clingy shorts to wear on Sunday, as usual I am overwhelmed by how flirty the guys in here are, you would have been crap at it”. So I says to Donnell: “You are so ridiculous for still shopping at that stupid shop. Are you: a) a 39-year-old out-of-shape queen from the suburbs or b) part of a straight couple in their early 30s who just bought their first flat in Chiswick? These are the only demographics who shop there”. Then Donnell tells us: “My shorts are cool to go clubbing in. It’s not like you’ve thrown all you’re A&F stuff away, is it? I’m not bothered about demographics”.
And because I am bothered about demographics, here’s another request. I have banged on about this in the past, but I won’t relent. Is anyone in Iceland reading this? Do we know anyone in Iceland? I must have some Icelandic friends. I must go back there before I move to Australia and I need to know people there who will show me round and perhaps put me up. Why not.
So maybe I should type some random Icelandic words to get some hits from there:
And finally, quite randomly, here is a list of bands that I like from countries which are not exactly major in the international music scene. If you are from one of these countries, can you please message me and let me know some brief info about the bands I mention? I.e. Are they big there, are they cool and I’m allowed to like them or not, etc. Thanks.
Denmark – The Fashion
Sweden – Shout Out Louds
Sweden – Kent
Belgium – dEUS
Denmark – Grand Avenue