Surprise

Last night I had a pleasant -or unpleasant, I'm still not sure- surprise. In an attempt to definitively kick out the depressing dressing gown lifestyle, I suggested going for a pint with the inhabitants of The House. Unfortunately, they were still recovering from the week-end, and declined. I pondered for a while about going on my own, but thinking it would sign my official descent into alcoholism, decided against it.

I already wasn't in the greatest mood, and retreated to my room, considering banging my head against the wall just a few times to send me to sleep, when my phone rang.

It was Stella:

Lilith, I'm so so so so sorry, but I've just been out with that really good friend of mine and his friend who are just back from touring in China, and they were supposed to stay at a friend's but he can't have them over anymore because of his landlord and I wondered, well, I thought...

-Ok, cut it, what time are they gonna be here? Because I'm in bed...

-Half an hour! Thank you so, so, so, so...

-It's fine, see you in half an hour.


Now, being the control freak that I am, I absolutely HATE HATE HATE HATE it when people, as good friends as they can be, don't leave me a choice. And nothing pisses me right off more than feeling that things are being forced upon me.


So, half an hour later, when the doorbell rang, I made a great show of appearing as grumpy as I could, with what I thought was the right combination for convincing grumpiness, just picture it:
-dressing gown
-no make up
-hair sticking up in every direction
-my 90s geek glasses which haven't been updated to my decaying sight in a decade (I wear contacts every day)
-hairy legs (nothing to do with behaving grumpy, they just happened to be there, and hey, that's what you're supposed to do post break-up: let your hair grow!)
-and my monthly spots (which just happened to be there too, since my periods are here just to make me feel better -sense the irony.)

So, I opened the door (grumpy face and all), and Stella jumped on me:

Oh Lilith, you're a star!

-Yeah, whatever, just come in and unfold the sofa bed in the living room if you can.

That's when one of the "friends" came in:

Oh my God! LILITH!!! How the devil are you???

-Eh? (screwing up my eyes while trying to see who the devil he was)

-It's me!!!

-Ooooh.... Hi! (then looking down at my "sexy outfit") Ooooh... Fuck! I mean, come in guys, make yourselves comfortable, here's the bathroom, let me help you with the bed, I'm going to get you blankets...


As pissed off I was with Stella right at that moment, she sensed something was wrong and dragged me out on the balcony "for a quick cigarette".

As soon as the door closed behind us, I was laughing my head off under the rain, unable to answer her "who-is-he-who-is-he-who-is-he".
I eventually managed to blurt it out.

We'd met three years ago during a three weeks summer course abroad where, during our free hours, he taught me how to talk dirty in English, while I taught him how to do so in my own language. With all the corresponding actions of course.
That is, only during day light, since at night, he shared a room with his long-term girlfriend...
Back then, I didn't care, in my incredibly selfish mind I had a very clear distinction in between sex and relashionships. It was just sex. And it was brilliant.

We were both a bit sad when the course ended - after all, he had given me my first big O!- but when we said our good byes at the airport, decided against keeping in touch for his girlfriend's sake and I flew back to London, and he flew back to Birmingham.
I was over him when the stewardess told me to put my bag under the seat in front of me.


I bumped into Summer Fling at a party in London six months later where booze, drugs, and sexed up couples were flowing.
I would lie if I said I didn't feel anything then, and my first question was if he was still with his girlfriend.
He nodded and suddenly burst into tears, telling me how he had been thinking about me all the time, and I told him how I couldn't/didn't allow myself to, for the only reason that he was taken, and that would just have been a waste of time and effort and pain.
(Wow, how cold-hearted was I back then? It made life so much simpler.)
So we spent the whole night sat in a corridor of the flat, hugging eachother, while everyone was going wild around us. It made the whole moment somehow more intimate than anything we shared before.
And we left it at that. We became "friends" on Facebook about a year ago, and that was it until last night.


So imagine my surprise when I realised he was on my doorstep... Six degrees of separation? I'd make it three degrees!
As much as I wanted to stay in the living room for a chat, I was too conscious of my appearance, and couldn't see anything anyway, so I excused myself upstairs.

Why I changed overnight into a nice morning person with make up on, making coffee at 7 for everyone, don't ask...
His friend (Stella's friend) being present, we had a nice chat about life, without mentionning the girlfriend. But I know for a fact that she's now moved to Norway, so... I gave him my number when he asked for it before leaving, I'm just curious.

Still it was a nice diversion from seeing Facebook pictures of French Guy and his brand new fucking mammouth bitch of a wrinkled girlfriend walking their hideous rat-like dogs together in Hyde Park.