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Tuesday, August 24, 2004

Hard Target 

Hey Folks,

Much, much time has passed since our last communication; many things have happened, some good but most middling and, as usual, it is not my fault. I crafted a beautifully and moving epistle and Blogger killed it when I tried to post it. Predictably, I hadn't saved it - go me, eh? Perhaps somewhat understandably, I was a little disenheartened by this and coupled with my existential dread and lack of opportunity, I've not informed you all of the not so sordid details of my date from... well, I forget exactly when, but it was a while ago.

Hopefully none of your number has died from a heady cocktail of unrequited suspense and boredom; if you have then I am indeed extremely sorry. In memory of our dear departed comrades who couldn't cut it, I'll now attempt to satisfy any latent curiousity that y'all may have. I met up with my ex girlfriend of many years past in a local pub and it was all terribly, terribly awkward to begin with. Matters only improved midway through the second pint and a much needed humorous interlude was provided by a fat man spilling a tray of drinks - think Boscastle as the floods roared through - and then crying like a baby. Our mood suitably lightened, we then got onto the important matter at hand: "Explain, if you will, why, as Kilgore Trout would say, you no longer feel the need to munch the rug? So to speak." For reasons that I hope are clear, it was I who introduced that little conversational gambit.

And here's where I wimp out: To protect the innocent, I'm not going to pass the content of that answer along. Gosh, I'm such a tease aren't I? But I'm not going to tell. In the spirit of quid pro quo - my, it's all so very Silence of the Lambs tonight - we got caught up on my relationship situation (i.e no longer engaged) and what we had been doing with ourselves - ahem - so to speak, since our last incredibly strained meeting in the aftermath of a classmate's funeral. While I've been fucking up relationships and friendships willy-nilly, she's been in Brussels doing translation work for the EU. The facts established, she then started to hit on me in a manner that even Peter Sutcliffe would find inappropriate. Never before nor since, although admittedly our date was only a short time ago, have I been made to feel like a side of meat - well not since I stopped seeing my friend Cannibal Saul* on a regular basis. It says a lot for a woman's technique that a man as frustrated as I am was midly repulsed. Perhaps it says a lot about living in Brussels, but I digress.

At the end of the evening I ended up walking her home as there were no taxis around and I'm determined that no one shall die on my watch. Murderous taxi drivers are, I conceed, a tricky issue but I'll cross that bridge when I come to it. So I walked her home and, in a reprise of one memorable night some six years ago, she stuck her tongue down my throat. Well, she tried to kiss me and I politely - as politely as you can in those circumstances, I think - declined her advance. Score one for the good guys, I think. Yes she exudes a twsited sex appeal that, well, appeals to me in a twisted kind of way, but I've come a long way since last year and I'll be damned - although I possibly already am - if some sexy chick thinks I'm going to be an easy mark. Even if she is oddly turned on by my lopsided muscalature.

The Outpatient is not shallow.

Word is bond.

*Watch out for more news of Cannibal Saul in the near future. Yes, award yourselves smugness points for correctly assuming that Cannibal Saul will feature heavily in the next posting...

Monday, August 09, 2004

Still crazy after all these years? 

Hey Folks,

Odd things of great strangeness have been going on in these humble parts. Allow me to explain. I was out for my evening constitutional on Friday night and I encountered a piece of my past that I believed was consigned to history. Once upon a time, in a galaxy far away, I fell in love with a girl and we had some very good times. But as these things inevitably go, we grew apart. And she became a lesbian.

You see I don't have much luck with women even when it's not my fault.

Anyway, we were just kids, and I suppose it's better for a person to discover that they're attracted to their own gender when they're young and have not had time to get into a really serious relationship. Objectively I understand this and always did, but it's not particularly nice believing that you were so hideous that not only do they not want to be with you, but you've put them off men for life. Over the years I've gotten over those sorts of feelings and the tale, told properly, provides great entertainment for friends when the wine flows. Strangely, I know several women who have had the reverse experience with men, so many in fact that I'm tempted to form a support group. And what a support group it would be, me and several attractive femmes in need of consolation and reaffirmation of their attractiveness...

But I digress.

I was walking not a mile from my front door when out of the night stepped my old girlfriend, her mother and her father. Reacting instantly, I drew my weapon and shot the trio and then made it look as if the parents had been slain by a daughter in the grip of sexual angst. Reality and fantasy collided uncomfortably here as it often does as I realised that wishing does not make so and that I'm not really Vic Mackey and they weren't dead and she wasn't framed for the killings. A meeting that I'd dreaded for years was actually taking place and despite hours spent decided exactly what I was going to say on the issue of my first love's bicuriosity, words failed me.

Her: Hihihihihihihi! How are you?
Me: Er, fine thanks...
Her: You've put on weight - it suits you.
Me: Er, thanks.

It turns out that her sister had bought the house that they were just leaving, explaining their proximity to my residence. They weren't, as I'd initially assumed, lying in ambush for me. The oddest thing was that while we were standing there on the pavement talking she started to touch me. Admittedly it was in a casual manner and not really surprising as she always was a rather tactile individual, but it was surprising nonetheless. True, this isn't a situation that I'm au fait with, but I would have thought that touching the man that made you want to go and kiss girls was a little, well, indecorous. Apparently not. So we stood there for a few minutes, talking away and her with her hand upon my shoulder. That was Friday night's little adventure.

Last night, my mobile phone goes and it's her. As you can imagine, I didn't feel it necessary to update her with my changing number so I'm quite keen to find out how she got it. It transpires that she got her sister to call a mutual friend and see if she had the number. She got lucky. I wonder how the conversation with my friend went, perhaps something along the lines of "my dyke sister wants her ex-boyfriend's, your friend and colleague's, cellular communications device number. May I please have it to pass along?" This is an unmistakable breach of Outpatient security and words will be spoken. Once these facts were established, one pertinent question remained: are you still gay? Apparently not.

This nugget of information puts a rather different complexion on my agreeing to meet her this Friday. I'm an incredibly selfish person at times and I surprised myself by agreeing to her request for a meeting - I'm not at all sure if it will be in my best interests. The maddening thing is that she always had an...edge to her that was so incredibly sexy. And undeniably dangerous. I always imagined her to be the kind of girl that would keep an icepick handy in case she ever took the notion to discover what her sleeping partner's innards looked like. Regardless, it'll be interesting to discover what's happened in the intervening years and I imagine that we'll both have some stories to tell.

It looks as if I have, as they say, a date.

Told you some odd things were afoot.

Wednesday, August 04, 2004

Scissor Sister 

Outpatient: Morning Sis
Sister: [indignant] Who does your hair? {shakes fist menacingly]
Outpatient: Er, you do
Sister: Oh, okay.

Welcome to my world, people.

Tuesday, August 03, 2004

Labelling Theory 

Hey Folks,

Sorry for the lack of updates lately but the Dad-monster has been monopolising the PC of late. He bought some labels and is now going through some kind of vast Five Year Plan-esque attempt to tranfer the written content of our family's-address-book-that-sits-by-the-phone to the computer so that we need never write an address on an envelope again. This, along with trying to persuade all our family members to move to a more cost-effective phone package, is what my father does with his time. I wouldn't really mind bu the compouter is in my room and I'm roused very early in the morning - like 10am, the bastards - to allow him access to it. Despite the fact that je spends more time than even I do online these days, it is my fault whenever bad things happen to the PC.

Naturally.

In better news, good friends of mine previously mentioned on these erstwhile pages welcomed their daughter Kirsty into the world at 9.50am yesterday. Mother and baby are doing well, but the child's father is slowly realisng that his days of playing Star Wars: Rebel Assault are sadly over for the forseeable future.

All for now.