A date or not a date?

John still hasn’t called and I doubt he will but I can’t really bring myself to care. That ship has sailed buddy. Gerald gave K his number and she told him she was giving it to me. He doesn’t want a relationship but maybe he might be up for some casual sex. I may be seeing him tomorrow night after the Bird.

So I texted B to invite him for lunch. He couldn’t so he proposed dinner tonight or lunch tomorrow. For a whole ten minutes, while I consulted Mags, I was giggly and excited – which doesn’t work with my carefully constructed aloof image. However when he texts me back, he proposes going to the Diner instead of a fancy Italian or French restaurant. I can’t snog him in the Diner. That would be way to PDA for me. So I guess he doesn’t mean it as a date then.

I feel like I’m 16 again instead of rapidly approaching 30. It’s this town that does it. The expat community is tiny and everybody knows everyone’s business. It’s high school with jobs and disposable income. The bitchiness is magnified. None of the boys want to commit, even to a fling. People whisper and gossip. Gossip is a real currency here.

And I angst over a date with a guy already in a relationship because its in a diner rather than a restaurant. This sort of behaviour is pathetic but boys, gossip and scandal get us through the lonely boring nights. So I’ll just get around to accepting that I’ve devolved over 16 years and wonder if B is going to pull my hair to show he likes me đŸ™‚

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