And I thought miracles were so passe

I came home tonight to find something changed in my home. A chair moved here. A pile of magazines moved there. A strange overall change in the demeanour of the house. I may need to check the alignment of the planets, but it appears that the flatmate vacuumed the house.

He is always willing to jump on any bandwagon of a new-age guru and the like who promises some sort of life improvement by simply wearing a crystal or listening to a tape. Numerous parcels bought via the internet arrive for him regularly promising wealth and happiness in some sort of neat package. The latest thing for him is Feng Shui. So to that end, he has put up mirrors on just about door in the house, a candle in the supposed "relationship" corner and decreed that a dirty stove-top is bad Feng Shui.

Fucked if I know, but while it has him periodically giving the stove a clean and whipping the vacuum around the house - who am I to argue?

Politically Incorrect

Politically correct language and behaviour is often a dicey area. In some ways, there are definite times and occasions where it is warranted. I, of course, don't abide by sexist and racist comments. Although times have changed. When I was young, I was mortified to hear the word "wog" used. When people called me a wog, I would protest and declare "No way!". Now times are such that wogs can call themselves wogs, and black rap artists are "niggas", and as long as you are referencing yourself - it is all well above board.

But last night, when I was holding court surrounded by a bevy of gorgeous gay boys at PSD's house-warming party, I was told that I couldn't call myself a "Fag Hag" anymore, because it was non-PC. Apparently the term du jour is "Fruit Fly".

For Fuck's sake! Just when I reconcile that I am a woman in my mid-thirties with many gay friend, and that I am indeed the picture post-card Fag Hag, someone goes and moves the goal posts.

Fuckers. Next thing you know, people won't like me saying the word "cunt". Problem?

Weekend observations

What a weekend!

I began the weekend by receiving an email from Berry Boy. He was writing to me "to explain some things" following our successful second date. Details aside, the crux of the email came down to something equivalent to me being "intimidating". Well I never! Confused as to this choice of description for me, I enlisted the advice of Wishtup. I asked if he found me intimidating, and apparently, the consensus is a resounding yes. Fuck, hey.

Moving on from this revelation, I took a girlfriend to the opera on Saturday to see Opera Boy doing his "thing". It was wonderful Gorgeous staging, glorious voices, although the Opera House is renown for its poor acoustics (ironic isn't it?), and it was hard to hear the singers when they were not near the front of the stage. Depite this, my girlfriend found her virgin opera experience emotional. She cried rivers and turned to me at the end and said, "Why didn't you warn me?". Err... it is opera - I thought it was a given that there would be tears?

Returning on the plane this morning, I noted, with some horror, that a nearby passenger actually used the "vomit" bag on the plane. Don't get me wrong, if you need it, please use it - that is what it is there for. But if you need to use it, don't neatly fold it up and back into the seat pocket, as if it were unsullied!

English as a foreign language

Often people have complained that they don't understand words that I have used. Possibly because I do try, albeit rarely, to venture beyond the same pale expressions used everyday and colour my language with a wider variety of words. And sometimes, they are even clean! In point of fact, I have promised myself this year to make a conscious effort not to use so many expected cliched couplings.

But back to my vocabulary. Apparently this misunderstanding of my parlance causes some distress to people. Today, I had to explain, not once, but three times, the meaning of the expression "gussy up"!

And people wonder why I am turned on by well constructed sentences and creative word use?

Reflection

A little while ago I wrote about finding an old High School friend online. I admit to having been remiss in following this up with my faithful readers. L and I did in fact meet up sometime ago. And it was wonderful. L, his partner (of 16 years!) and I spent a delightful afternoon together.

So much had changed with time, but so much was still the same. We still laughed and joked freely. The years fell away, and he was still the somewhat carefree 17 year old I remembered, but even better. Perhaps, because he was comfortably "out", or maybe age has tempered us both to finally feel free in our own skins. Whatever. It was fantastic.

On Saturday night I had L, his partner and PSD all over for a dinner party. L and I fondly recalled our high school formal and giggled over old photos. One truly does not appreciate how beautiful one was in their youth until it is gone. I look back at photos of me then. Sweet 16 (no, really) and full of angst of life. I was insecure and felt unloved. Somewhat a little like I am now, without the cynical view of age and a divorce under one's belt. But I look at the photos and wonder why I felt so insecure. I peered into my photographed eyes and thought, "Who is this captivating young woman? Where has she gone? Why did she doubt herself so much?" Perhaps 20 years from now I will reflect similar thoughts on the myself right now.

As the evening drew to a close after many wines, we began our goodbyes. Thanks were delivered all round for attending, and for a delightful evening. As L and I embraced to farewell, he exclaimed, "I am so glad to have found you again!"

Amen to that.

Long before Snape....

A little while ago a gentleman that I responded to online asked a number of questions to ascertain some measure of my personality. He asked questions that ranged from political, religious and topical. One question he asked was to name three movie stars that I would consider sleeping with. I thought long and hard, since few movie "stars" ring my clitoral bell.

I rented a number of DVD's on the weekend and while watching one of them I realised the one actor that does it for me everytime. You can keep your Brad Pitt's, Tom Cruise's or Heath Ledger's. Give me a man not conventionally attractive. Give me a man that screams masculinity, but with sensitivity in abundance. If you have seen "Truly, Madly, Deeply", you will appreciate that it shits all over "Ghost".

Sexy?....Oh yes you are Alan!

I am a delicate and coy little flower - no really!

True to his promise, Berry Boy indeed did send me a follow-up email from our date on Saturday. It was brief and to the point. Allow me to reproduce it in its entirety for you.

Oh well, only took me a couple of days to polish off the raspberries. Hope you had fun picking them - I certainly did!

I read this with a glimmer of hope - surely an exclamation mark is a good sign? Of course, I am a girl, and will always read far more into it that may be warranted. Wishtup read it and said that Berry Boy now had a clear conscience. He said he would email and he did - and no further response was required. Despite this, I decided to ignore every dating book I have ever read, and responded to BB's email asking if he would like to catch up again sometime.

After a day of waiting for a response (isn't email supposed to be quick!!???), he replied, that he "would love to", but followed it by asking "when, where and why?". "WHY?" I know I did try to tone down the outrageous flirtation that I am known for, but I didn't think I was that effective. Might have to step it up a notch then for the next encounter!

Opportunity lost.

It took me a long time to be comfortable with shopping for prophylactics. Being a modern woman, I understood that I really should have my own "just in case", but I felt like all eyes were on me when I slid them across the counter for purchase.

I would imagine what everyone was thinking. "She thinks she is going to get some sex!" or "I wonder how soon she plans on using these?",or worse still, "Slim fit hey, how disappointing for you?". Nevertheless, I purchased, not quite proudly, but with the knowledge that I was a responsible adult.

Today I have been doing a little cleaning and culling around the house. Getting rid of all manner of things and feeling somewhat cathartic in the process. All was going well until I happened upon the condoms in my bedside drawer, and noted that quite a few had expired. I secreted them to the bottom of the rubbish bin. It is one thing buying the damn things, but a whole different matter contemplating on the lost opportunities when they go unused!

Date No 1 for 2006

I had a date today. I was just about to say that I had a "first" date today, but that seems to imply the hope of more than one - and I shouldn't get ahead of myself. Seems of late all my dates start off in my mind as first dates, and end up being "one-offs".

As many regular daters will know, it is always safer to make the first meeting on relatively neutral territory, and limit the time. For example, meeting for a drink, with no required extension to dinner, and possibly keeping a friend on back-up with the safety call to rescue you from a potentially awkward evening. Also, considering that the only men that I have of late dated are all met via the internet, so with no knowledge of them, it seems safer to make the date a situation in which I shouldn't need to worry about my safety and making a phone call from someone's car boot.

But today's date, again with a man from the internet, began at 8:30am. Yes, a.m. - ante meridiem. Requiring me up before 8am to prepare and look reasonable. This is no mean feat, exacerbated by the fact that I rarely rise before 8am even on a work day. But arise I did. Prepare I did. Well at least as glamorously as one can expect at such an hour. He arrived and picked me up, and then we began our excursion. This date was to be an adventure to the country to pick raspberries, fresh from the vine (or whatever it is that they grow on). So already this date, required an early start, an hour or so drive to the location and then picking raspberries with little distraction. We then went onto lunch, and the subsequent return drive home.

All in all, the date went for about six hours, which in anyone's books has to constitute a long time. I will say that it was a delightful day, with an interesting activity to make it all the more memorable. It was also odd being on a date with someone who is so much like myself. Let me detail;
(i) He mentioned he had a blog, and prefaced it by saying "It is probably a little geeky to say". Perhaps there was some relief when I mentioned that I had one too, although his blog seems much more politically bent.
(ii) He also loathes horses and cooked apple - two things that people rarely understand about me.
(iii) He is freaky smart, attends choral works (my own choir - the irony) and is opinionated about books/movies/philosophy - we discussed Chomsky if you can believe that!
(iv) Drives fast and hard - rather like me.
(v) Enjoys Buffy, but prefers the pre-Lesbian Willow, whereas I am mad for Spike.

So, the question now is, will there be a second date? I don't think so - he ended the date saying, "I will email you." Anyway I look at it, that comment doesn't resound confidence in an ensuing romance.

Oh well, at least I got a shit-load of raspberries for the day's efforts.