Goodbyes

I took down my profiles on PoF and Lava awhile ago, and have been cheerfully broadcasting that I have a real actual boyfriend to pretty much everyone. There were some loose ends left to tie up, though.

I finally got ahold of Mr UK this morning. It made me late for work, but was a necessary conversation. He was talking about booking tickets to meet in Chicago...which was the plan a couple months ago, but isn't quite right, anymore, with T in the picture.

Mr UK took it well. Better than I expected, actually. Said he was happy for me. Wanted to know about T. Congratulated me. Asked if he'd still see me in July when he comes to town. I said "of course, but T may want to join us". Mr UK said he understood.

He commented that if we had lived in the same region, or even the same country, we'd probably be dating, but sounded pretty philosophical about it.

When we said goodbye, he said he loved me.

I told him I loved him, too.

And, you know, in its own way, it's true. Not in the "let's get married" sense, but Mr UK has been in my life for a long, long time, and there is definitely a special relationship there. I am relieved that he can accept the situation, and grateful that our friendship will continue, albeit on a different level.

It was a little bittersweet, though.

Disclosure

T is an honest sort of guy. He doesn't seem to mind discussing any topic, now that the shyness has passed. I admire that.

There are parts of my history that, while I am not ashamed of, I can't say I am itching to share with a prospective long-term partner. Who I am still in the stage of wanting to impress.

T has shared some lass-than-savory details of his past, and although I am not going to end things over this, it does make me stop and think.

Then, I read this. It made me think (thank you, T-shirt, for making me think, again). I decided that I didn't want to have to worry about T finding my blog, or finding out about my history from someone else.

So, this morning, over coffee, I told T about Mr UK and M. Not all the details, of course, but enough. I told him that although I don't really intend to have any contact with M, Mr UK remains a good friend, and will still be part of my life. That Mr UK may be staying here, at my house, in June. That T is welcome to be here for the whole time, if it makes him more comfortable with the situation. Of course, Mr UK doesn't even know about T yet - that's a project for this weekend.

I don't know why I was worried. Moonbeam was quite prepared to distance himself from me, in order to make sure T didn't get jealous...thoughtful of Moonbeam, but the idea disturbed me. When I mentioned that conversation to T, he was apalled. He told me in no uncertain terms that I should not be losing friends over this relationship.

Right answer.

He did it again this morning. He said that he felt I was interested enough that he wasn't worried. I told him that a person can say they won't cheat as many times as they want, but it means nothing without the behavior to back it up. T said he believed me. Said he wasn't at all concerned. I could have kissed him. In fact, I did. Several times. What a relief.

Dysfunction Break

They say bad luck comes in threes. I should be okay for awhile, now, as I have had my three bad man news items this weekend:

1) Beavis (see last post)

2) M. appears to have found himself a girlfriend. This is purely an assumption on my part, based on the fact that he withdrew his offer of a free flight to see my sis, but I can't think of any other reason.

3) Mr UK can't get holidays to come visit until June, when his annual vacation with his family is booked. His family hates me for long, complicated historical reasons, so I don't imagine I will be seeing him much, if at all.

None of these things is all that bad alone, and I have to admit I was half-expecting each of them, but not all at once. Suddenly, I find I am all alone, which might be a necessary break, anyway. It will certainly cut the frustration level in my world, anyhow.

But dammit, it's hard to feel loveable and attractive when you get ditched three times in the same weekend...

Three (not so wise) Men

M. sent a one word email yesterday. it said:

"regrets?"

hmmm. Not really. I got what I expected: a place to sleep while I was doing other things, and some meaningless sex. It didn't come as a surprise. I haven't mailed his key back, yet, but I'm thinking about it.

Beavis phoned. He wants to come up this weekend, and spend the night. I asked him, straight up:

"So, where, exactly, are you planning on sleeping?"

He didn't miss a beat when he replied: "in my truck". As long as we're all on the same page, I suppose. I'm glad he doesn't have any expectations.

Mr UK called. He didn't have anything in particular to say, except that it was a boring day at work without me sending him notes (I was on training). He just wanted to say goodnight. Wish I coulda been there to tuck him in and give him a kiss...

Courting

Mr UK remains incredibly disappointed that I won't let him fly me back over. We had a loooonnggg discussion about the nature of love, and the difference between loving someone and being in love with them. I mean, no-one doubts he and I love each other, deep down. But we're not in love. I told him that my biggest problem with the whole idea is that I am not even a little bit in love with him, and it feels cold-hearted to let him jet me around when there's no butterflies-in-stomach on either end.

I don't know if he realises it, but he's basically been courting me ever since that conversation.

I love it.

He sends me a zillion emails a day at work. Cute, short, 'just thinking of you' type notes.

He sent a little gift by mail, with a hand-written letter.

He calls every few nights, and we chat about nothing for hours.

We reminisce. We debate. We talk dirty. We laugh.

I worry that he is falling in love, a little bit. He's mentioned that he has reconsidered his statement that we would never work out as a couple (distance aside, of course). Honestly, after four or five sleep-deprived phone marathons, I am questioning that statement, myself. However, neither of us is prepared to move.

I worry that i might actually be falling a little bit myself.

He is threatening to come visit at the end of April. He can't really afford it right now, and doesn't really have the time off. I half-heartedly try to talk him out of it, but I'd love to see him again...

Romance

There's this guy on lavalife. He's messaged me twice. Email #1: he wanted to know when we could meet. I told him I'd rather sent a few more notes back and forth first, and decide IF we should meet. Email #2: he wants to know what kind of kissing I like, whether or not I like massages, and what constituties a romantic evening.

This is right up there with strangers calling me sexy.

A stranger would probably go for flowers and a nice dinner. That stranger would probably turn me right off. Roses remind me of an ex who used to buy them for me when he had cheated on me (again) or broken something I cherished. I hate roses. Especially red ones.

Romance is so dependent on mood, and on the person you're with. One of the most memorable 'romantic' evenings I can think of with Mr Wonderful was a game of Trivial Pursuit. With three of my cousins, an aunite, and my Grandma, but Mr Wonderful kept dropping hints and allusions to private jokes between him and I, and, at the same time, entertained a bunch of people I loved dearly. He didn't especially want to be there that day, but came because of me. That's romantic.

Mr UK keeps emailing me links to web design/building tutorials, and to shareware and open source programs that he thinks I would be interested in. Often, attached to sweet notes about how well I am doing with my learning html.

One guy took me for lunch at my favorite restaraunt, then took me to the SPCA and talked me into buying a dog. He didn't last, but I still think of him all the time - I do love the dog to bits.

These things all stuck out in my mind as romantic. Mr UK would never take me dog shopping, and it probably wouldn't feel romantic if he did. But, he does know me well enough to know that free software is a great gift. It's the caring and acknowledgement in the gesture that makes it romantic to me. I'm not a Hallmark kinda gal, and romance has to be personal...

Oh, yeah, and I don't imagine there will ever BE a first date with Mr Romantic on lavalife...

Spring Burnout

In the last two days, I have turned down four dates. Three from online strangers, one from a known commodity. I have absolutely no interest in meeting any men, new or otherwise, unless they are going to make it easy on me by, say, showing up at my house with a bottle of wine and a movie in hand. In fact, I'd prefer if they dropped off said bottle of wine and movie, and left.

I can tell spring is coming.

I am not thrilled about dating at the best of times, but view it as a necessary evil, unless I want to die alone in my tiny, filthy house, surrounded by my 63 cats and seven dogs, and the debris of a bitter, lonely life. However, I really lose interest in the whole game when I get that first whiff of nice weather.

I mean, who wants to spend their summer being rejected by dumb-ass rednecks when she could instead be travelling around the Western provinces, visiting friends and family, taking up kayaking, skydiving, and organic gardening? In the summer, I have more than enough ways to fill my time, and don't really feel the urge to complicate things by introducing new people. It's only in the dark, cold months that I really wish I had some company.

Right at the moment, I think I'd be quite content for Mr UK to schedule a visit around May, and me to fly back over there in the fall, and call it quits on the dating game for the season. With a scheduled week of good sex to bracket the beginning and end of my busy season, I could quit pissing around on the internet, chatting with random losers, and go outside to play.

Don't get me wrong, here. I'm not bitter or angry...in fact, I'm in a better mood today than I have been in weeks. I just don't feel like wasting my time when the sun is shining and the birds singing...in fact, I think I'll go join them right now...

Pride.

My buddy Rockhead called tonight. We have been pals since forever. Platonic friends; he's one of the few men who has never, ever hit on me. Even when we went down to Mexico and got really drunk together. He's a geologist, and loves to argue politics.

He asked me what was new in my life. Sadly, I didn't have much to report...even my date for tonight backed out. Rockhead said he just got back from another Mexico trip, and asked me how my trip to London had gone, so I told him all about the incredible time I'd had. I mentioned that Mr UK had offered to fly me back again, but that it felt like too big a hit to my pride. Rockhead said: "pride doesn't buy you any plane tickets." Bastard. I hate it when people point things out so succinctly.



******Next day edit*******

I shoulda known better than to go looking for Rockhead's sympathy on this one. He flew me to Mexico last fall, and paid for the hotel and such. He's done that for several people, though, and says we can pay him back whenever. He really doesn't seem to care if any of us ever get him the actual cash. He says he doesn't want to waste his timeshare weeks, but he doesn't like going alone. I still owe him a bundle. It's quite a bit different, though; I WILL pay him back, eventually, and he will let me. I am not singled out for the special treatment, and I completely understand why Rockhead would do that. His motives are crystal clear.

Of course, Mr UK phoned not ten minutes after Rockhead and I hung up. It was 3am his time, but he said he was thinking of me. He "just called to say goodnight".

**melt**

He is such a sweetie.

It wound up being a long, interesting, and strangely intimate conversation about our history, the nature of our relationship, and the difference between loving someone and being in love with them. I had sort of been trying to keep all that emotional stuff out of things, but you know, maybe that's part of why I don't want to accept his gifts anymore. It just seems cheap and manipulative to accept such lavish gifts when there's no emotional connection. I know it is silly, but it feels different if there's love involved...

Instant Turn Off.

Mr UK once said that part of my appeal lies in the fact that I am clean and wholesome, but at the same time utterly, utterly filthy. I really questioned that statement, until this morning's random PoF IM conversation.

The guy had contacted me, and we'd been chatting for twenty minutes about travel and hobbies. He was looking like a potential candidate. Then he switches conversational gears:

"has anyone ever told you that you've got great lips?"
(I was cueing up the Deliverance banjos when I saw that...'you sure got a purdy mouth, boy)
(**and when I was a kid, the other kids called me 'nigger lips'. Thank God for Angelina. She made me sexy.**)

"um...yeah..."

"Can't take a compliment, huh? You know, you are really sexy."

"look, i gotta go get ready for work."


I know I am really sexy. I know a lot of guys think I am hot. I have absolutely no doubt about those sorts of things. I have no problem accepting compliments, either. But, you know, I find it incredibly offensive when people who don't know anything about me say those things out loud. It seems crass, somehow.

It must be my feminist upbringing. I don't want to be anybody's sex object, period. Now, someone who appreciates my intelligence and personality...well, that's a different story. If Mr UK told me I had really sexy lips, I'd start describing how I intended to use those sexy lips on his cock the next time I saw him. Graphically.

But then, Mr UK sees me as a whole person, maybe a sex subject, a parnter in crime, so to speak, but certainly not an object. Part of the reason he finds me sexually attractive is because he is drawn to who I am. My personality. My goals and accomplishments. The stuff you can't see. It's about more than just what I look like. And, I see him the same way. I'm comfortable with him.

Wholesome and filthy. Yeah, I guess I can see it...

Puppy...

My dog was an adult five years ago when I got her, but she's really still a great big puppy.

She spent her morning out in the yard rolling around in the snow, as if nothing could possibly feel better. Actually, the only things she likes better than snow are ducks and rabbits. For supper. After she runs them down. I've never actually seen her catch one, but gawd, she tries hard...

I think she was extra-enthusiastic with her snow angels because the weather has been warm. She probably knows the snow will be gone soon. By soon, I mean mid-May, but still...

With several consecutive days of plus-temperatures, the exposed ground under my deck has started to thaw, as well. My dog is an amateur archaeologist, and was delighted to resume excavation. I am not entirely sure what she thinks she will find, but from the size of the hole, I suspect she is looking for Chinese artefacts. I will have to explain to her that coming upon them from the bottom messes up the dating.

Mr UK called last night, in relation to a rather raunchy webpage I coded and sent to him. My HTML skills are coming along nicely, though he said he was too distracted to even look at the code. I would call that a success. I was quite pleased with the page, myself, and am happy to get the intended reaction. Essentially, it was a nude picture of myself, set up so that he could click on different bits of it, and it would take him to a different section of the page, with more photos and some graphic reminiscing. He was impressed.

Of course, he wanted to know how soon he could fly me back over. It led to an arguement. He thinks I'm silly. I agreed - I am silly, but as much as I'd love to spend a week with him in Berlin, I'm just not comfortable accepting such a lavish gift right now. He said we would discuss it again later. I suggested we discuss it next year, when I have more money. Unfortunately, Mr UK is at least as stubborn as I am, and appears intent on grinding me down. It's almost worth agreeing, just to avoid the yelling match. Aah, well, nice to know he cares, at least...

Preening...

Well, Mr UK may have created a monster. I spent all of last night and most of today working away at the tutorials he sent me, and I think I am getting the hang of it. I looovvvee a challenge. I am making it fun, by coding up little webpage 'cards' to send him, and inserting hidden naughty comments that he will only see if he checks the actual code. I think he is shaking his head at me, but I won't be motivated to actually do anything with it unless I have a fun way to practice.

No real updates on the dating front. I am going for dinner with another POF guy on Thursday, and have no idea how this one is going to go. We sent about six emails back and forth about food and cooking. I got bored with that, and fired off a cheeky reply; I asked him if he was actually interested in chatting/meeting, or if he was just replying to be polite. Hence the dinner date. I haven't talked to him on the phone. his profile is not terribly informative, except for stating that he can and does use multi-syllabic language. It's a start, I suppose.

I spoke with Mr UK on the phone last night and today. I wish we lived in the same place. Even if dating wouldn't work out, I love the conversations we have.

He wanted to know when I would come over again. He thought maybe April would work well. He offered to pay, again. Suggested we go to Paris or Berlin.

Aargh.

You know, I just can't do it.

I loved the idea...once. But I'd feel like I was taking advantage of him if I let him keep flying me back and forth. I mean, he's got a good job, but he's not rich. I know I'm absolutely amazing, but I'm not certain I am worth that. It's a tough one, it really is. But I'm afraid I have too much respect for both of us to carry on like that.

At least, that's how I see it when I'm feeling tall and strong tonight. I may revise that opinion when I'm horribly lonely and bored again...

Bored...

...Or, "Why I Should Never Be Allowed To Get Bored"...


This cold is lingering on and on. My dog is going crazy because she hasn't had a walk in weeks. Going outside aggravates the cough to the point that I have to stop every few paces and lean on something while I hack up a lung. Not fun.

I am not normally quite as lazy as I have been lately. I have to admit, I am totally sick of lounging around the house surfing dating websites and blogs, although I did set up a date with a brand new victim for Thursday.

Anyhow, I was laying in bed a couple of nights ago, coughing, and had a brilliant idea for a website. No, I'm not telling...but when Google buys me out for 7 billion dollars, I'll buy the beer.

I called Mr UK and another friend who works in IT to see what they thought of the idea. They said it was great, so I asked them if they could help me set it up. They got a LOT less enthusiastic at that point. After each of them had spent a couple of hours explaining the costs and effort involved, I got a lot less enthusiastic, too.

However, being the stubborn broad I am, I asked what it would take for me to be able to do it myself. They started throwing out random strings of letters, like "html", "psp", "css", and basically the rest of the alphabet in creative combinations.

I have to admit, the last time I felt like I knew anything about computers was when I used to program cute little cards/messages for Mom#2 on our Commodore 64. I was nine.

So, this week's project is learning html. I am not very good at learning out of books, and need to actually do things and make mistakes in order to understand. So, I suspect that this blog will be undergoing some renovations in the near future...

Wish me luck...

Sweetie

I got this at work this morn:


"For some reason your email last night didn't seem to sit really well with me, don't know why, but something about it seemed, well, strange I guess. Dont know why.

So the only place I could figure to find any info about how things were going was the place I promised not to read... so in the vein of wanting to make sure everything was all right i read it this morning. Man you sound a bit, well, tumultuous...

Maybe a call one of these evenings?"


Mr UK is such a sweetie.

The phone rang not ten minutes after I got home.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, just a little down...probably this cold, or maybe the crash from having such a good time over there with you.."

The truth is, this week I have been feeling a little...unloved. Unwanted. Unattractive. Unhappy.

There is absolutely no reason for it. I should be kicked in the ass, hard, for feeling this way after Mr UK flew me to London for Valentines. And showed me such a good time while I was there. After so many friends and family have been calling or coming over, fussing over me with this cold. Like I said, no reason for it at all.

But there it is. Feelings aren't logical.


"Well, what are you doing St Patrick's day?"

"Umm...riding you like a clydesdale, I hope?"

"Let me check my bank balance..."


I wish.

Damn the past

Well, today's POF date, K., was...meh.

He was polite enough, funny enough, and the conversation flowed pretty well, for a couple of strangers. He was decent looking. I don't have anything specifically bad to say about him. I'd probably go out with him again. No real urge to make an effort to make that happen, though.

I think I have been spoiled by the men in my past. Three, in particular.

Mr. Wonderful is ancient, ancient history. We were together for 6 years, and lived together for 5. We've been broken up longer than we were together, but I am still searching for someone who will treat me as well as he did. He was absolutely devoted, but in a way that left me space to grow. He never failed to make me laugh, and brought me flowers for no reason. He bragged to his friends about how smart I was, and still sends my mother birthday cards, all these years later.

Mr UK is really only salient because he just spent a week spoiling me rotten, and reminding me how nice it is to be around a gentleman. Someone with a little culture. And have intellectual discussions. And no-holds-barred honesty.

M is haunting me right now. When I got in from the date with K, all I wanted was to be in M's arms. In fact, I phoned him, intending to invite him down to Ruralville for a 'visit', but he was busy, and I never got the words out. I'll probably be grateful for that in a week or so, but...Dammit.

I don't want to be pissing around with this dating crap. I want to skip the akwardness of meeting someone and getting to know them. I want to go directly to the part where you can just be in the same room, doing whatever, but not having to talk. The part where you know each other so well, you can predict what he'll do or say. The part where he makes your coffee with the right amount of cream and sugar, without having to ask. I want the comfort and trust and unspoken support.

Unfortunately, that takes years.

I'm not very patient.

Moth to a flame...

This cold is killing me. Quite literally, I'm afraid. I've been coughing till I throw up the last three days. I can't even focus my eyes to read, let alone post, which sucks, as I am totally bored with being sick.

Of course, as I haven't had the energy to drag my butt off the couch, I haven't been doing much on the dating front. In fact, I've been thinking about getting some adult diapers so that I don't have to bother dragging my sorry butt to the toilet, but that'd mean going all the way to the store. As you might guess, my overall motivation for anything much beyond breathing is pretty minimal.

I did call M last night, though.

I don't know if it's a mistake to stay in contact, but I can't seem to stop myself. Going to London set off a small existential crisis for me...I realised how dissatisfied I am with my current career and locale. Mr UK brought it up a couple times while I was there, and I hate to admit it, but he's right: I'm unhappy here. I was not happy living in London, either, but London had some huge advantages. For instance, here in Ruralville, 'culture' consists of the Classic Car Show in June and Rodeo Week in August. 'Painting' is what you do to the barn. Big conversational topics include trucks, fishing, and guns. "The Gallery" is where you go for target practice. Yeah, London was way cooler, that way...

As a feminist who fixes her own car and loves reading, Arab culture, and Dali, I am something of a freak here.

I spoken to Mom and a couple of girlfriends about this. Mom tends to go the 'whatever makes you happy, dear' route, which is not helpful when I'm looking for advice. My girlfriends are great, but sometimes live vicariously through me, which means they tend to advise me to do what would make them happy.

M. understands this stuff. He's one of the few who do. He knows when to shut up and listen, too, and just let me work things out for myself in conversation. And he knows me well enough to give a pertinent, considered opinion when I do get around to asking for it.

The conversation went suprisingly well. Relationship stuff didn't come up. We were talking about 'personal' stuff, but not personal stuff pertaining to "us". He listened, made all the appropriate noises during the appropriate conversational pauses, and generally acted like he cared. Without trying to talk me into bed. I actually felt better by the time I hung up the phone.

Unfortunately, if I were to move, my first choice of cities would be the one he lives in. Which adds sooo much potential for complication. I mean, we have a hard enough time staying away from each other when we live 200km apart. Imagine if we lived in the same neighbourhood?

Anyhow, it's all academic until I put in the transfer papers, and I'm going to consider this one for awhile before making any drastic moves.

Damn him for understanding me so well, though...

Airplanes and Hair Dye

Well, hell flight knocked a round out of me, as usual. The cold didn't help.

I'm happy to be home.

Tired to the point of hallucinating, but glad I went.

Mr. UK left me a sweet parting memory. I've been talking for ages about dying my hair, but I have always been too chicken. What if I don't like it? Well, I decided to go ahead and try. Mr. UK sat in the bathroom with me, reading out the instructions while I gobbed the gunk into my hair. Eventually, he decided I was missing too many spots, and got involved. There's something strangely intimate about having a guy wash your hair, or, in this case, work the dye in, then wash it out. It led to a great deal of less-mentionable activity, which is also good. I do double-takes when I see myself in the mirror...doesn't quite look like me, and it will probably remind me of him for quite awhile.

I went to London with 'cheap and dirty' in my head, and wound up with sweet and romantic. Mr. UK was wonderful. I am suprisingly unemotional about the whole thing, though. I am terrible at seperating sex and love, but for once, I just feel like a had a great week with a good friend, and really nothing more. No yearning to be with him, no wishing for the phone call. Just...content.

Ask me again in a week when I'm unbearably horny, though, and I might have a different opinion...

The Truth...

...is not on my blog.

It's more the truth as I see it, edited for anonymity and entertainment value.


Mr. UK and I had a lovely Kurdish dinner last night, and an interesting conversation about things you should never ask your lover/date/mate.

There are a long list of questions to which I will always reply "Are you SURE you want to know the answer to that?"

If they think they do, I will always tell the truth, but most men don't want to know the truth. They're fishing for a specific answer, and it's one they rarely get.

"How many men have you been with?"
"Am I the best lover you've ever had?"
"Do you love me more than ---?"

"Are you SURE you want to know?"


Mr. UK is bright enough not to ask me questions he doesn't REALLY want to know the answer to. He knows damn well I'll tell the truth. He can't believe the number of men who torture themselves with it.

On the other hand, he continues (with my permission) to read my blog.

"You hated it the other morning? But we've had morning sex before...you seemed to enjoy it...didn't you?"

"Nooo...yes...Damn. I just don't like morning sex in general. Morning sex with YOU is fun. Yes, I enjoy it. It just prompted a thought, and I wrote that thought down. Nothing personal, really. Honest. In fact, we can go back to bed right now, and I'll PROVE how much I like morning sex with you..."

I've had to explain very carefully that my thoughts are not the literal truth. That not everything I've written is congruent with time/date/place/person I'm with/things I've said or done before.

That Beavis wasn't really that big a prick to me. I just felt at the time that he'd been quite a jerk.

That I actually like dates in bookstores, but AT THE SAME TIME feel they're cheesy and overdone.

That I reserve the right, as a complex human being, to contradict myself whenever circumstances warrant.

I love Mr UK. In the end, he completely understood. And I told him he can keep on reading...as long as he thinks he can handle 'the truth'...

...and yeah, in case you're wondering, we really DID break the bathtub...

Oops.

Mr UK got a text message last night. We were in a pub at the time. He very nearly blew his beer right out his nose. Giggling, he handed his phone to me.

It was a message from his flatmate. It read:

"Christ! Bath tub not made for sex! So glad you found that out and not me! I think we'll get crummy builder to fix it, eh? I will call them tomorrow if you haven't already..."

Oops.

But, really, what do they expect us to do with a 2-man corner tub? I don't know if the Brits are too 'propah' to do it in the tub, but in Canada, I guarantee that the builder would take one look at that puppy and think "yup, someone's just gonna have to fuck in that" and frame it in with 4x4's. Hell, depending on the builder, they'd probably test it for themselves.

I took one look at it and knew. Mr UK didn't have to be told twice. Hell, the flatmate's been dreaming about it for ages, apparently, and as soon as she gets her Aussie boyfriend over the pond, she intends to test the repairs. It's obvious what that tub is meant for. It even has a butt-shaped indent in the corner.

And now, a 2-inch gap between the tub and the wall...

Oops.

Spoiled Rotten

Day three:

I got sick. Damn contagious kids - the friends who are watching my dog have two little girls, and one of them was snotty and coughing when I went over to drop off the mutt. And wanted to hug and kiss Auntie (me) goodbye before the plane ride. Ugh.

Woke up with a clogged head and a sore throat. Mr UK fed me vitamins and tucked me in to go back to sleep. I finally got up sometime after noon, and hung out in his living room, fire on and wrapped in an afghan, playing on the computer. He sent random texts and email notes from work, checking that I was okay, comfortable, and knew where everything was.

Eventually, when I was feeling like a human being again, he invited me to join him and a friend for a drink. We had a couple pints in a pub, then headed out for Vietnamese.

Mr UK is nothing if not a gentleman. I'd forgotten about that. Standing on the bus, he had a hand across my lower back, in that way that just quietly says 'I am here'. He holds doors and your jacket. And that holding hands thing is sweet. Won't let me pay for a damn thing, either.

Today, he took the morning off work to just hang out, as I have plans for the evening that don't include him. He's not jealous or demanding, but is quietly maximising our time together. He made coffee, and we sat and just chatted for hours. He is fussing about me knowing how to get around by myself on the tube.

I am soooo spoiled...

I wish...

I hadn't quite forgotten how comfortable it can be to just hang out with a guy. But I didn't quite remember how much I really do enjoy it.

We went out for Indian last night. We looked over the menu, discussed what we liked best, then he ordered. For both of us.

We had an intense discussion, bordering on arguement, about religion, feminism, and politics, over our mango lhassi's and chicken korma. I love that verbal sparring with someone who is as smart as I am. We'll never convince each other, but it's fun to try.

We walked home in the London rain, and he reached out to hold my hand.

I fell asleep with my head on his chest, and woke with his arm still around me.

Too bad I have to go home in a week...