Anyway, the week was decent once more, mostly taken up by Eve the ex being here until early Friday morning, and then my usual three hours of Saturday morning football followed by a weird 24-hour stint at Oxfam whereby I eat strangely, lose myself in several hundred dusty records, and sleep the night in a makeshift nest made up of other people's donated goods. I kind of like that. Eve's visit was a good one, I reckon - at least, it's one more thing off the list and I'm not longer saying, oh, I should have sex with that girl. The sex was decent. And she's nice enough. And I guess it's progressed things between in one way or another. I mean, for something like seven years she's been wanting me, and I've been resisting, so at least that's over and done with. I wonder if she'll stop wanting me now? That would be sort of good (and sort of bad) but, to be honest, I don't think it's going to happen - seems like, really, she kind of adores me and may even still be in love. That's weird. It's weird to sit there and catch glimpses of her watching me do whatever I'm doing and feel that adoration. Bit unsettling, really. And makes me wonder about her sanity. She shouldn't be adoring me! Oh well.
The other weird thing this week was when she took me to Canterbury with this strange insistence of buying me a t-shirt. Well, okay, so off we went to the various charity shops and cheap stores looking for something inexpensive and that was a pretty fruitless search (I'm pretty fussy about clothes, even though I generally end up wearing things I either find or am given). Anyways, at the end of it all we nipped in Fenwick's (designer stuff) for a wee and when I came back from the toilet she was holding a couple of things saying, try this on. One was a t-shirt for seventy-five quid! I said, no way, there's no point, but she insisted, and gave me a three-hundred quid jacket to try on as well, and, what the hell, I did. I gotta admit, I looked hot. And then she says, I'm buying that t-shirt for you. No way, I says, please don't. It's too expensive. You can't do that. But she insisted. I couldn't bear it. I had to go outside. It was sort of emotional. Really, I could hardly handle it, and it made me go all quiet and introspective, and sort of made me feel like a child, and made me think of my mother, and I found the whole thing very difficult to accept.
Then she took me in another shop - still a nice one, slightly less pricey - and said, let's get you a jacket. So she did. And that was another seventy quid. What's going on? This is mad. But I sure do look good. But that's more money in two foul swoops than I've probably spent on clothes in the last ten years. A seventy-five pound t-shirt, fer christsakes! It's mental. I've given up. I can't do anything. I'm in another world, a brand new realm, and I surrender. I sort of like it, and it makes me wonder all kinds of things - about money, about my deprived upbringing, about being tight and about thinking, why the hell not spend these exorbitant amounts on clothing, good stuff lasts and looks and feels good and it's only money at the end of the day. Like I say, whole new realm. Perhaps it was healing - would be nice if it was - but I really don't know.
And that was one of the main things from my week.
Also, I started to get a weird vibe about Australia, which is surprising. Well, we'll try not to force it and see if anything develops. And still waiting for "the Jasmine" to materialise. I wonder if it will, now that I've said it out loud?
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