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Whenever I go to concerts, I stand somewhere in relation to a high traffic area and suddenly become the policewoman on duty to wave people through. I don’t know wether I have a natural selection to stand by walkways. Or if I just like to be close to an exit.

 

There is a theory that says, when a couple sleeps in a bed, the dominate member sleeps closest to the door [to protect]. I sleep with my poodle. And he sleeps closest to the door.

 

In fact, the only complaint I have ever had in bed is regarding how I sleep. I have a tendency, via selfishness and becoming accustomed to sleeping with a male the size of a shoe, to take up the entire mattress, ensuring that any human-sized bed partner must resort to either the foetal position or the floor.

“You know that you can just pick me up and throw me onto the other side,” I have told every boyfriend who has voiced complaint at the sleeping arrangement.

No one has ever actually done such, so I have since ignored any complaint. Although, one boyfriend did frequently fart loudly in bed and I always wondered whether that was his subtle way of getting me to move. Or leave.

Suffice to say, I have always slept closest to the door when horizontal with a human.

 

I have been sleeping with the equivalent of a furry shoe for the majority of the year. Ever since The Johnny and I broke up, I have, for the first time in my life, been fearful rather than just resistant of a relationship.

I have actively sought out people who will want to leave before breakfast. Or who can’t speak English.

 

And then I met the Canadian Law Student.

 

And then he asked me out on a date.

 

I was actually nervous before The Date. Not because of me. No, no. I have long since accepted that They will either Love Me or Hate Me (and have grappled with the fact that it is usually the latter). I was nervous because…What if he turns out to be another liar?

Pre-date you can project images of perfection upon someone and have an inkling that you may be right. It takes only twenty minutes into Date Numero Uno to either embrace or ignore this. And after the year I have had with boys (which can be collectively summed up with the phrase, “What? I didn’t tell you I have a girlfriend?”), I don’t want to have to spend any more of my spare-time making voo-doo dolls for boys. I’m out of twine. I mean, time.

 

I was so nervous that I went for a ten-kilometre run to try and kill the anxious energy. But it didn’t work.

I arrived home to beautify myself (four million minutes before hand = rough estimate) and have a hot shower to calm the remaining nerves. But it didn’t work either.

“[RG]! We have no hot water!” I screamed from my bathroom wrapped in a towel.

“I know! We ran out of gas. It will be back on in the morning.

I know there is love at first sight. Is there love at first smell?

 

There is nothing like standing over a sink, twenty minutes before a date, washing yourself with a wet towel and holding a blow dyer to keep you warm. Any presumptuous ideas about shaving my legs went down the drain.

 

I have no idea how to date. It has been such a long time since I have been in intimate contact with a functioning human, that the rules are lost on me.

What do you talk about when you can tell that someone actually has intellect and the mentally maturity of an adult?

“I’m very bendy,” was never going to work.

 

Canadian Club and I talked about anything and everything until the bar closed.

For the first time in a year, I didn’t look for an exit.

 

 Post By Salium.