Weekend long date

Dear Diary,

This weekend was fun. Somehow, despite being unemployed, the weekend feels different - in a good way. I can't understand why, as all days feel exactly the same at the moment. It can't be a subconcious desire to spend more time with my parents - frankly I wouldn't mind if I didn't see them for a week or so - Mum's really been pecking my head lately...... for a change.

FRIDAY

It's been nice hanging out with Joe and not just because it gets me out the house for 3 days. We arranged to "do something" on Friday, luckily Steve texted me and told me they were playing a gig in town again, which I invited Joe to. UNluckily, I was feeling shitty, knackered and really run-down, so when Joe came to pick me up after my shower (Mum and Dad were out) I invited him in, thrusting a bottle of baby oil at him and practically pleading for a massage. 3 hours later and I was having to run around the spare room removing evidence and texting Steve to apologise for missing the gig. Oh well, it was worth it! Felt better, anyway. Except for a horrifically embarrassing exchange almost immediately afterwards. I can't quite remember what we were talking about, but it ended with this:

Him: "Yeah, they always say that, that sometimes people in a relationship......"
Me: (*stopping in the doorway, with raised eyebrows*) "'Relationship,' eh?"
Him: "Oh no, I didn't mean...... god, sorry, I....."
Me: (*mortified*) "Shit, no..... erm..... look, forget I said that, OK?"
Him: "Yeah, I, erm..... so, moving on from the awkwardness......"
Me: (*uncomfortable laugh*) "Yeah....."

Sweet Jesus, have I learnt NOTHING??! Here I was thinking I know at least a few things about men, and I go and drop a big fucking clanger like THAT!! What is WRONG with me?? Oh well, at least I now know for a fact that it IS just about sex for him. Unless HE wants a relationship, but when I said that it gave the impressions that I DIDN'T?? Maybe he thinks I'M only in it for the sex? Oh my god, this is a minefield. I mean, I'm not bothered either way, but for a second I actually did think that's where we were headed.... Oh, who knows. I didn't dare ask.

After cleaning up and packing a bag, we left to go to his house. It would seem his parents don't bother him that much, or take much interest in who he brings back to the house. God, I envy that. If I brought him back to mine when the parents were in it would be questions and conversations galore, and the strict disapproval of any shut doors.
On the way to his we stopped off at Tesco for snacks and Domino's for pizza. My god, I fricking LOVE this guy, he's like a male me! (Although that possibily sounds quite narcissistic......) Once back at his we tucked ourselves up in bed, ate pizza and watched "Family Guy." This is SO what my life should be like.

SATURDAY

Saturday was pretty fantastic. Woke up with him kissing me, which frankly scared the shit out of me, as opposed to any romantic overtones. He said he'd had two activities planned this weekend, but the bad weather ruined one of them - which was a PICNIC!! Yaaaaaaaaaaay!! But there was another he had planned..... see if you can guess from the clues he gave me:

It's a seasonal sport
We had to go to Blackburn for it
It could be considered exercise
I had mentioned in passing that I'd been once and loved it.
There are TV shows based around it

I couldn't for the life of me guess - I thought it was horse-riding! But it wasn't. It was so much cooler (literally!). WE WENT ICE-SKATING!!! How AWESOME is that? He had to drive us to Blackburn and it was £13 but DAMN it was worth it! We drove to Subway for breakfast (SUBWAY for breakfast! The man is a GOD!) before zipping along the motorway, with me bouncing in my seat and squealing pretty much ALL the way there.

Sadly, the Torvil and Dean-esque grace and poise wasn't quite as easy as it looked - as we discovered. Within 4 seconds of his blades touching the ice, Joe went into hyperactive overdrive. We stood in the same position (clinging to the wall) for 20 minutes, both terrified to move, Joe's face set in stone as he angrily growled aloud exactly "what the hell he was thinking by bringing me here when he's never done this before in his life and how I'm totally gonna go right off him now I've seen how terrible he is at it."

I reassured him that it's madly difficult the first time, and that I felt exactly the same the first time I skated on ice, scared to move, angry at myself for even attempting it and stupid, as everyone else whizzed past. I convince him to follow me in just walking round the rink holding onto the wall. By the end of the first lap, he was smiling all over his face. After the second, I was able to walk in short bursts away from the wall. By the third he was skating ahead of me (still on the wall) whilst I pseudo-skated unaided next to him, gripping his hand. And by the time we were all called off the ice at 5 oclock, we were racing round the rink, trying to beat our record - with me wobbling-ly skating unaided, off the wall, humming "Bolero" to myself.

The embarrassing part? Joe has never been ice-skating, and he didn't fall over once. I've done it before and I fell over 3 TIMES. My god, that is humiliating. The first time I was trying to avoid crashing into him, the second time I was trying to avoid killing a small child by grabbing her head (causing me to swerve and face-plant the wall), and the third time I was so pleased at my ability to skate unaided that I whipped around to face him in a joyous and celebratory fit of girlish high spirits and promptly fell flat on my arse. Classy!

Our ankles felt like they'd snapped afterwards, but DAMN it was worth it! Joe seemed amazed at how quickly he's got the hang of it, thanked me over and over again for encouraging him to "man up" and learn the techniques, and really grateful to me for not "just skating off". Why on earth would I do that?? Anyway, we firmly agreed that we should go back again some time and maybe - just maybe - become good enough to attempt the stunts being graituously displayed by the show-off chavvy gay-boys (I mean, talented young men) in the middle of the rink.

Afterwards we went to Pizza Hut, knackered and starving for an indecently huge stuffed crust, before sailing home (well, back to his, anyway). We hung out for a while, with me checking my phone every 5 minutes in case work rang (to help cope with the masses from the park gig). When it got to 11pm and there was still nothing, we decided to catch a late night film, "Tormented." Not that much to say about it, really, except 3 words: "Straight to DVD." I'll probably review it some other time.

So, we came home and went to bed. He kept calling me "beerushka" a lot, but wouldn't tell me what it meant all weekend. Hmph. Presumably it's Czech, given that I was asking him to speak it - I do love languages, it has to be said. Unless it turns out he was calling me a "giant squid" or a "massive testicle." Ah, Europe.

SUNDAY

Sunday was nice - one of those days where you do sweet bollock-all but actually enjoy it. We stayed in bed till about 3 oclock (not in that context, you deviants) watching "Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure," and "Southpark" and eating leftover Pizza Hut pizza. I discovered something strangely alarming yet exciting - it turns out I am sleeping with a man who did the voice for an episode of "Salad Fingers." Have you ever seen it? It's an online YouTube sensation and it's absolutely fucking terrifying. Salad Fingers lives alone, has a penchant for rusty objects, has a voice like a paedophile and gets into a bunch of highly unusual scrapes every episode to the backdrop of creepy artwork and the most terrifying music I've ever encountered. As it happens the creator is an accquaintance of Joe's and one day asked him in to do the voice for this episode. Holy crap. I am sleeping with a man who voiced one of the most disturbing things I've ever seen. I felt star-struck and alarmed all at once.

Went home about half 4 - Mum spotted a lovebite on my neck within about 5 seconds of me walking through the door. CRAP!!!! (And also: HOW??! It was so faint I couldn't even see it!) She said disgustedly that only "common" people did that, and I'm not "a sixteen year-old." OK, for starters, I never had anything like a normal 16 year-old's life, I didn't hang out properly with boys till I was 17, so 'scuse the hell out of me for catching up a litte. And for goodness' sake, I didn't do it so I could have a "trophy," he didn't "force" it upon me either, I let him do it because I find it madly sexy and passionate and I happen to have something of a vampire fetish. Obviously I didn't say any of that out loud.

After a lovely roast dinner, I pulled up our deckchair and sat in the garden, listening to the strains of the band's songs wafting over from the park. They sang all my favourite songs, and ended on..... wait for it...... "I am the Walrus." YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!! It rained all the way through, but I went indoors a very happy bunny indeed.

Got a message from Joe after a huge bout of texts (mostly exclaiming over when my favourite songs were played) saying; "Sleep well, Beruska." So THAT'S how you spell it! It took a while, due to not knowing exactly where certain accents/inflections went, but eventually managed to look it up - it means "ladybird." Awwww.
And yes - I'm fully aware that if this was some other woman's blog I'd stumbled across, I would right now be feeling a little sickened with a touch of "get-a-room"-ness. For which I can only apologize. Although I won't deny that it's quite nice to have a nickname. Apart from the one the followed me through high school (which is now my email address), I never really had a nickname. Unless you count "Katrinus the Wacky Penis." And THAT is why you should never be friends with boys at the age of 13.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Current Mood: tired but peaceful
Current Music: "Disturbia" - Rhianna