hungover anger
it's saturday morning when the phone rings and CP informs me he'll stop by tomorrow (he was supposed to hail in in a week's time). no problem, I'm a friggin' hotel, so I advise him no worries, but he can't expect the house to be clean or tidy.
on sunday I pick him up at the station, he's packed with bags like a donkey on market day, but alright. back home, I feed him with cake, we have a little talk, I cook him dinner, we eat, I have a look at some pictures he took on his trip.
that's when he beats around the bush about if I could go ahead and do what we were discussing the other month while chatting.
"what do you mean?" I ask.
"well, you know... we were kinda cybering, and I wondered..." he actually blushes.
now, the thing is this: I've zero problems with a one-nighter or a quickie. none at all. but if you plan to have anything in the ways of that, you might want to "work onto" that one. and not just throw it on the table after dinner. you might also think it's a crap idea telling me for months how you find tiny, submissive lilac-with-green-spots women cute when I'm a friggin tigress, no less. that just doesn't work out. it's not like I jump the gun by the flick of a switch.
"don't play with fire if you can't handle the heat" says I. of course he doesn't get it. he quickly tries to step out of the dung by implying he would "return the favour" (he means a nice homemade bj). to which I answer I don't need any extra frustration, thanksalot, especially since I don't think he knows what he's doing and he should steer his thoughts onto something else.
to sum it up: I give him shelter and food, and out of the blue, he asks for a bj.
now, a lesser woman than me would've just hit him in the snout for that one. or date-raped him. or basically called him an appropriate name. I simply grinned at him and told him to keep playing with his legos. I have the whole awkward situation under control.
half an hour later, MR shows up as we've figured out it's a good excuse as any to go clubbing. MR and me go way back. we've been through good times and bad, and at some stage we thought it'd be a hoot to get engaged. even though MR and me don't "play in the same team". as in... he's gay.
so off into the night we float, off to The Park, where I forcefeed myself a touchdown. afterwards we hit K-Club where the pink community has a party going on. when we step into the club, it's still kinda empty, but fills and heats up after 20 minutes. MR and me both have 4 vodka lemon and 1 shot of rotgut each and by that time we're sweating and dancing as if there's no tomorrow. both MR and me meet quite a few mates and have a laugh with them; by the time we leave it's about 2 am and we're quite exhausted. we decide to move onto L-Club, where MR and me once worked it like we owned it.
read: we both used to be bar-personnel and some nights got paid to take a few clothes off and dance... for money. not as in lap dance, but as in heat-'em-up. one night they had a cage on the side of the dancefloor and I put MR inside... but that's a different story... *chuckles*
anyways, we step outside and across the road and walk towards downtown, when I manage to hail a cab that tries to speed by. I whistle and wave and cabbie takes a pity and takes us along. by that time my voice (whettened by a cocktail, 4 longdrinks and that shot) is getting deeper and huskier by the minute. think bob mitchum meets mari faithful. that'd be moi. so into L-Club we stumble and I meet L, an ex, and we fall into each others arms screaming delight. the two lads in my company and me dance for another half hour or so, while I manage to chuck down a cola. I'm buzzed to the point where I know there'll be hell to pay come morning.
it's nearing 3 when we crawl towards my house and MR is taking the massive piss at CP, especially since I told him what that one would've liked to get. we get to my house, I have a shower while the lads talk bull in the livingroom. it's after 3 when I call a cab for MR and I fall into bed. that's when my stomach decides to have the hangover right now. I really have to concentrate to keep the drinks inside.
at 8:30 CP wakes me up, it's almost time for him to leave, and I don't feel like walking him back to the station, especially since the hangover has me in its claws.
spending the day on the couch, nursing the hangover, while watching a couple of dead like me episodes and kind of coaxing my stomach to stop bugging me off can be quite nice at times.
did I ask for that one? am I right to be angry?
because - so help me fuck - I am!
on sunday I pick him up at the station, he's packed with bags like a donkey on market day, but alright. back home, I feed him with cake, we have a little talk, I cook him dinner, we eat, I have a look at some pictures he took on his trip.
that's when he beats around the bush about if I could go ahead and do what we were discussing the other month while chatting.
"what do you mean?" I ask.
"well, you know... we were kinda cybering, and I wondered..." he actually blushes.
now, the thing is this: I've zero problems with a one-nighter or a quickie. none at all. but if you plan to have anything in the ways of that, you might want to "work onto" that one. and not just throw it on the table after dinner. you might also think it's a crap idea telling me for months how you find tiny, submissive lilac-with-green-spots women cute when I'm a friggin tigress, no less. that just doesn't work out. it's not like I jump the gun by the flick of a switch.
"don't play with fire if you can't handle the heat" says I. of course he doesn't get it. he quickly tries to step out of the dung by implying he would "return the favour" (he means a nice homemade bj). to which I answer I don't need any extra frustration, thanksalot, especially since I don't think he knows what he's doing and he should steer his thoughts onto something else.
to sum it up: I give him shelter and food, and out of the blue, he asks for a bj.
now, a lesser woman than me would've just hit him in the snout for that one. or date-raped him. or basically called him an appropriate name. I simply grinned at him and told him to keep playing with his legos. I have the whole awkward situation under control.
half an hour later, MR shows up as we've figured out it's a good excuse as any to go clubbing. MR and me go way back. we've been through good times and bad, and at some stage we thought it'd be a hoot to get engaged. even though MR and me don't "play in the same team". as in... he's gay.
so off into the night we float, off to The Park, where I forcefeed myself a touchdown. afterwards we hit K-Club where the pink community has a party going on. when we step into the club, it's still kinda empty, but fills and heats up after 20 minutes. MR and me both have 4 vodka lemon and 1 shot of rotgut each and by that time we're sweating and dancing as if there's no tomorrow. both MR and me meet quite a few mates and have a laugh with them; by the time we leave it's about 2 am and we're quite exhausted. we decide to move onto L-Club, where MR and me once worked it like we owned it.
read: we both used to be bar-personnel and some nights got paid to take a few clothes off and dance... for money. not as in lap dance, but as in heat-'em-up. one night they had a cage on the side of the dancefloor and I put MR inside... but that's a different story... *chuckles*
anyways, we step outside and across the road and walk towards downtown, when I manage to hail a cab that tries to speed by. I whistle and wave and cabbie takes a pity and takes us along. by that time my voice (whettened by a cocktail, 4 longdrinks and that shot) is getting deeper and huskier by the minute. think bob mitchum meets mari faithful. that'd be moi. so into L-Club we stumble and I meet L, an ex, and we fall into each others arms screaming delight. the two lads in my company and me dance for another half hour or so, while I manage to chuck down a cola. I'm buzzed to the point where I know there'll be hell to pay come morning.
it's nearing 3 when we crawl towards my house and MR is taking the massive piss at CP, especially since I told him what that one would've liked to get. we get to my house, I have a shower while the lads talk bull in the livingroom. it's after 3 when I call a cab for MR and I fall into bed. that's when my stomach decides to have the hangover right now. I really have to concentrate to keep the drinks inside.
at 8:30 CP wakes me up, it's almost time for him to leave, and I don't feel like walking him back to the station, especially since the hangover has me in its claws.
spending the day on the couch, nursing the hangover, while watching a couple of dead like me episodes and kind of coaxing my stomach to stop bugging me off can be quite nice at times.
did I ask for that one? am I right to be angry?
because - so help me fuck - I am!
posted by daria l'orange at 2:48 pm
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