Bizarre Friday

I’m sitting killing some time, post a work social, where I valiantly knocked back two Becks Blue’s (non-alcoholic beer). Listening to Gogol Bordello. Feeling a little weird because my mouth tastes like beer and I’m going to a 12 Step Meeting…

I already almost fainted when someone told me that Becks Blue, according to the internet, has an alcohol percentage per volume of 0.3%. I scrutinized the bottle and convinced by the “0.0%” claim on the label and “all that Moslem writing”, that it was actually ok. The sight of me swanning around with a bottle of beer did alarmed a few supportive colleagues. I’m 50 weeks sober today, so yeah, it’s weird to see me with a beer. 

Someone called me a pushover today. I’m really not. She based this on the fact that I’ve been pretty much stood up by the same guy twice. Am I a pushover? Or do I choose to have some faith in someone when they make plans with me?

Pah.

In the words of Gogol Bordello:

“Start wearing purple, wearing purple
Start wearing purple for me now
All your sanity and wits, they will all vanish
I promise, it's just a matter of time”

A crushing feeling...

I have a feeling.
I’ve caught a feeling.
And the feeling is crushing.
A disaster.
I think have a crush on you.
And him.
And him.
And definite nostalgic longings for him.

Sometimes someone comes into my life and for an often inexplicable reason, I can’t get them out of my mind. Is it a crush? I read their texts first, I click “like” too often on their posts, I break into a big beaming smile when I see them, or a frown if I really like them and feel the need to compensate.

I saw a video of you. You did this little happy jump at the end. It made me want to hug you.
I saw a video of you, you were dancing to a Nick Cave song. You pulled a face at the camera and were caught forever as the clip ended. I wanted to hug you.
You sent me a picture of gnomes fighting a T-Rex. You said you were the gnome on the right and you were going to save the gnome in his jaws.
You called me sweety as you said good bye.
You call me Sharry and I hate it. But it makes me grin instead because you said it.
You are wise.
You are funny.
You know how to fix a bike.
You have the weirdest views on life.
You have tattoos.
You have a beard.

Now, if only those statements weren’t about four different men. *sigh*
All of whom are firmly in the friend-zone.
I want to laugh at how special you guys are to me right now. And you don't even know it.