Somethings will never change...

Saturday consisted of a nap cut much too short, dinner with a friend, and clubbing with C.

I so rarely take naps. Mostly because I don't have the time, partially because I have a hard time falling asleep during the day.

But I dozed. It was lovely. A little too warm, but that's okay. I rolled my sleeppants up and sprawled across my bed, shifting my face every so often to find the cool spot on the pillow, the breeze coming through my windows causing my door to rattle slightly in its frame.

And, of course, just as I was about to submit to sleep, my phone rings, causing adrenaline to rush through my system, knocking any chance of actual sleep clear out of the realm of possibility. Dinner was being relocated, I agreed to the new location (grudingly), and sighed as I hung up.

Lying in bed, annoyed that we were no longer going to the bistro I enjoy so much, annoyed that the restaurant we were now going to was a bit overpriced and had nothing resembling healthy eating on the menu, annoyed that the remaining twenty-five minutes I had alloted for my nap were now purposeless.

I popped in Kino's Journeys. It's a rather unknown anime mostly, I think, because it deals a lot with the philosophy of ethics, with ideas of ethnocentrism, and there are no "traditional" anime characters. No catgirls, no big-breasted women, no rogue warriors, no cute sidekicks that get people in trouble, no young boys trained in the art of random-x martial art, no highschool girls in mini-skirts. No, it's just a young, self-reliant girl travelling a world made up of hundred and hundred of countries with vastly different values and traditions, and how she explores those countries and their varying cultures... no lessons are learned, no morals imparted. It's just an analytical, impartial view of the world.

It's good stuff. Only thirteen episodes, unfortunately. Dialogue is spectacular and minimum, music is much the same.

Reluctantly got up after that, got dressed for dinner/clubbing since I would be going straight to the club afterwards. Fortunately for me, getting "dressed up" involves wearing a dress and doing make-up, as opposed to the "I'm lazy and apathetic about you people" look that I go for most nights. But it's still casual and minimal, which means I can pass for being dressed like a normal (relatively) person when I'm out.

Dinner was... a task.

I was hoping that I would be able to talk to my friend about sex, about my writing, about what she would like to see me write, what topics she enjoyed on my (other) blog, etc. Her sexual history is... well, blows mine out of the water. But she was a model traveling all over the place, going to places that I would never (want to) go to. Drinking, drug-use, etc. She's now in her late 40s, but she's very fun to hang out with, always has wonderful stories, always has a good word.

Saturday, however, I began to think I was cursed.

We were at this place for... two hours? And I probably got thirty sentences in. She just talked and talked and talked and when I tried to slide in, she ran right over me without notice. So I just leaned back and listened. For the first hour. Halfway into the second hour, I was squirming and had a headache. There was no way to stop her without being rude and, since she normally does not do this, I assumed that something was up, that she needed to talk, or at least needed someone to listen to her, whatever her reason.

So I did.

Finally, we parted.

I didn't get a chance to talk to her about my stuff.

My head was pounding.

I think I'm becoming too good of a listener, because that seems to be all people are requiring me for.

So I drove to a little indie coffee shop with my notebook and started breaking things down, outlining my life of sex, the things that shaped me, in what order I could remember, breaking it into chunks seperated by serious boyfriends/long-term relationships.

An hour or so into that, I was feeling grimy. Searching your memory for emotions, for little details forgotten, for scents and words and what attracted you to who and how that was manipulated, consciously or not, and why we do the things we do.

The girl I used to be, man... I'm so glad I'm no longer like that.

I had to take a break. I had to get away from that feeling of grime, of patheticness.

I texted GV8, but he was working.

I texted C, and her plans for the evening had fallen through, so she was going to go clubbing with me. I hightailed it over there, arriving about ten minutes before she did. I dropped myself into a book, someone else's words and thoughts to take me away from my own. Then she arrived, upset. Dropped the book onto the chair beside me and asked what was wrong.

Trouble with one of her friends. I laid on her bed and listened while she got ready to go. Within a few minutes, I had her laughing, cheered up. We watched the end of Pretty In Pink (Duckie playing nice guy game... sigh), and went on our way.

I liked the venue. Good atmosphere, great sound... tiny dancefloor. Stupid tiny dance floor that stayed packed almost the entire evening.

I hadn't realized, when I saw the flyer for it, that it was an anniversary club. And that the DJs that had been put together were almost like an overview of the last couple of decades. So we started out modern and ended up dancing to 70s and 80s. We bailed at 130AM. I love the modern stuff, C loves the 80s, but when we hit 70s, we were done.

I had actually been feeling kinda iffy and down on myself when we arrived.

Last week, dinner with friends, Ev was there. I was sitting down, studying, and he went to hug me goodbye and I looked up at him. I think he thought I was going for the kiss, and looked at me awkwardly, hesitating. I had been buried in a book, so when I looked up, I was looking at him going, "Is he going to kiss me?? Really???" and awkwardness ensued until a I tilted my chin up so not to reject him and he pecked me on the lips.

It was awkward. And C mentioned she saw it and the look of confusion on his face and hesitation and I was sitting there facepalming myself because I'm usually so good with that stuff, but the social situation was odd, to say the least. Didn't know what to do. Lame. I hate that feeling of total inexperience.

So I was mentally kicking myself when we arrived.

Fortunately, shortly after we got there, a certain man showed up.

Two of them, actually. One who I turned down for sex who subsequently threw a fit and started spreading rumors about what a slut I was, the other, a friend of his who asked me out last December, solely to see if he could sleep with me (as according to rumor) and examine me like an animal in a zoo. No, I did not sleep with him. I was open to it, but it didn't happen. Thankfully. I mean, yes, it would have been funny to sleep with this guy, but not his friend who was so bitter about me not sleeping with him, but I hate deception. And this guy lied to me about his intentions.

So I see those two at the bar and my usual, "Oh, fuck this" anger filled me.

I leaned over to C and quite obviously started whispering in her ear and eyeing them. And then I proceeded to find everyone I knew in the club and mingle, from the regulars that make the scene to the beautiful girls that come out every so often (a set of which invited me to do shots with them at the bar, which I had to regretfully decline). So I circled, hugged, hello'd, chatted, and danced my way through the growing crowds. I hopped onto the dancefloor and moved like I do, coordinated, in control, and good. The man who wished to examine me like a bug, who believed rumors, and more than likely encouraged them, who cut our date short as the man I turned down summoned him to a bar (so they could gather and talk about me... such chicks), started watching me, watching me interact with people, watching me dance... and there you go.

He stood on a mini-balcony the entire club, talking to almost no one, not dancing, not smiling, just standing, awkward and mildly drunk. And I laughed and smiled. I was even presented with the opportunity to socially cockblock, and I leapt on it. Wasn't major, but it amused me.

And then, in their retro review, they actually played one of my favorite songs from years ago: Revolting Cock's "Beers, Steers, and Queers". I've heard that song played once, maybe twice, in a club in the last five years. And it's so fun to dance to. Reminds me of the first time I heard it, at this tiny little club that was the predecessor to what is now the biggest, most popular club in the scene right now. And dancing to it on a near empty dance floor with my best friend at the time.

God, we had fun.

When I heard the opening to that song, I bolted to the dance floor, knocking into people, grinning wildly.

It was great. After that song, the night just couldn't get any better.

I managed to corner one of my guyfriends who, unfortunately, had started professing interest in me.

He's a cool guy. Great to hang with, been in the scene and a known pillar of it for over ten years. I love hanging out with him and his friends. He's a good dancer, and he's been around long enough to recognize styles, movement, analyze it. One of the biggest compliments I've ever been given while out at a club was from him, when we first met. He told me I was one of the best dancers there.

But I'm not interested.

And I continue to do my best to express my lack of interest in dating or sleeping with him. I have a feeling, that in a few weekends when a group of us are going camping, I'm going to have to sit him down and tell him no. Just flat out I'm not interested, he's not my type, and that isn't going to change.

I hate doing that. Hate it. I feel like such a jerk.

But that's the way it is.