Coupla things.
I am dreaming all the time. Boy dreams. Normally featuring people from work, which is Very Uncomfortable. But they're not about shagging this time, despite the fact that I am completely shagless. They're romantic. Dreams about people declaring their love for me, and holding me tightly, and whispering sweet nothings. Utter bollocks.
I miss John, and all the things that go with having a, you know, boyfriend. I guess? I don't know - how does this shit work? It's not me. I'm that girl who says they love sleeping alone because they get to stretch out diagonally across their queen-sized bed. The fiercely independent one who has a 'you can be my boyfriend, but I don't really care either way' attitude. The one who tells blokes at the pub to piss off and puts salt in their beer.
I don't know what it is that I'm missing, exactly.
Sigh.
I refuse to see Lassie, because it's a million times sadder when bad things happen to dogs in movies than when they happen to humans. Ever noticed that? War movies, people's guts spraying everywhere, mass carnage: "oh, hey, that's gory." Little puppy gets kicked: "[GASP] oh my God I have to cover my eyes. Poor puppy! Can you believe they would show something that GRAPHIC?"
Maybe I'm just talking out of my arse.
I'm hungover.
I am dreaming all the time. Boy dreams. Normally featuring people from work, which is Very Uncomfortable. But they're not about shagging this time, despite the fact that I am completely shagless. They're romantic. Dreams about people declaring their love for me, and holding me tightly, and whispering sweet nothings. Utter bollocks.
I miss John, and all the things that go with having a, you know, boyfriend. I guess? I don't know - how does this shit work? It's not me. I'm that girl who says they love sleeping alone because they get to stretch out diagonally across their queen-sized bed. The fiercely independent one who has a 'you can be my boyfriend, but I don't really care either way' attitude. The one who tells blokes at the pub to piss off and puts salt in their beer.
I don't know what it is that I'm missing, exactly.
Sigh.
I refuse to see Lassie, because it's a million times sadder when bad things happen to dogs in movies than when they happen to humans. Ever noticed that? War movies, people's guts spraying everywhere, mass carnage: "oh, hey, that's gory." Little puppy gets kicked: "[GASP] oh my God I have to cover my eyes. Poor puppy! Can you believe they would show something that GRAPHIC?"
Maybe I'm just talking out of my arse.
I'm hungover.
posted by GBE at 10:10 am
7 Comments:
"I don't know what it is that I'm missing, exactly."
Yes you do - you're missing Lurrrrrve!
And you're missing that nice feeling of having someone around that you can shoot the breeze with in a way that is unique to just the two of you. Can't this John character be imported? Can we not send over a group of thick-necked thugs in suits to bring him over here?
And, salt in the beer? Damn, you don't mess around.
Did you ever read that Paul Jennings short story book with the guy who put his dog down the well and when it finally got out it's neck was stuck always looking upwards, and then the guy fell in the hole himself and the dog stayed with him EVERY DAY? I only read it that one time, it put me into a funk for a days... that shit is bananas.
But I do appreciate the transition you're in - after my first big breakup (first time being single for more than a month for over six years) I was all like 'Independace Rules!' and 'I'm getting to know me!' - two months letter I was nagging my boss 'Why isn't there somebody for me to love?'...
I think you're right about bad things happening to animals, with the exception of Monty Python sketches (LOL, deceased parrot). Well put.
GBE, don't be sad. Independence is fine and everything, but that doesn't mean you don't get to spend time with someone you kind of have a MAJOR CRUSH on. It's okay to admit that you're missing John and you want him back. That does not make you a loser. K-Fed is a loser. Does that look like you? Mmm hmmm. Didn't think so. And on that track, at least you'll never be able to say that K-Fed put his penis anywhere near your person.
What Audrey said. Tis ok to feel these things. You can still be a rockin, independant, hot arse!! ;)
Don, we're working on the importing. It's one of the reasons I'm moving into a place by myself rather than sharing, actually. And as for the salt in the beer, he deserved it for being such a twat. I don't do it to every bloke I meet, I promise.
Enny, I totally read that story and it sticks with me to this day. Gah.
Mark, the other exception is in Anchorman, when Jack Black boots Baxter off the bridge. But I even felt bad for giggling at that.
Audrey! Major crush? But the thing is, I don't find him attractive, and he's quite weird, and even though he's a nice bloke who actually knows what I'm talking about when I start spouting about music I don't really OH MY GOD I HAVE A MAJOR CRUSH.
Steph, I know you're right. I'm just in one of those moods right now. I think it's hormonal. I'll test this theory by watching a courtroom drama and seeing if it makes me cry.
I highly recommend anything involving a emotionally scarred divorcee, a hard drinking lawyer with a Past, and a grizzly judge as old as the sea with a heart made of rusty nails. I also like movies about mothers that will KILL for their daughters to make the cheerleading squad. Crying is optional in this latter category.
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