The Boy invited me out and I slept over after partying with 30 friends until the wee hours of the morning at this punk rock mosh/lounge on St. Laurent. Woke up shortly thereafter and fucked. It was his 23rd birthday two days ago. Both of us are not looking for a relationship - at least, not with each other (or in his case, with anyone.) The great thing about our arrangement is his pedagogical attentiveness. ("Yes, you can hold it this way and still sit up like that/Here's how to do it properly. Now it's your turn/Put your hand here but ... /DON'T! I'LL DIE!") It's like Dangerous Liaisons without the whole premeditated agenda and syphilis thing. He asked me what I thought of the sex. I said he was comparable to grocery shopping. He feigned offence. I told him I'm a baby. He told me that's why he's here to teach me. I told him he exists to help me prepare for other encounters. He told me not to expect him to hang around much longer then. I asked him what his point was; he can't keep his hands off women anyway.
"I'll see you in COMS Sound, Lily."
"And I'll continue pretending not to know you."
No wonder I'm one of his "favourite people." Also. That healthy orgasmic glow I hear about? Not a myth. Try to pack that in a tub of Olay.
*sidenote: Sparks flew between me and Scott, the history major. He called me a "Shakespearean (t)wit" and has M. Biologique-like qualities ("coupled" not being one of them.) Looking forward to seeing him again.
Tall was working at school and called me over for shit chat and asked me to attend another gig again.
Where's cancer when you need it?
Bought two tight-fitting sweaters at Jacob for 20 dollars a pop and a knitted scarf for 10. Also left Chapters with two books: Against Love: A Polemic and Lost Worlds. That last one sold me on Stephen Fry's praises alone.
Cuisiniere, after three nauseating weeks, popped the L-word to J.Lass. Her reaction? "Uh ... I agree. We sure do click!"
PeLu just called to ask out me and J.Lass. I don't think I've mentioned him. He's the guy whose girlfriend forced him to move to an opposite bar booth because he was seen talking to us. Jesus! PeLu's like our downtrodden, stoned-off-his-rocker, French possum friend. Jealousy: It's psychic purgatory.