The characters in this article are real and any resemblance to other persons living or dead is purely coincidental and terribly bad news for people who have dated or are dating them.
This has been extracted simply because time is a-ticking on the dreaded assignment due in less than 2 weeks now.
Stress attacks: 50. Wanky lattes consumed as considered stressful state: 49. Actual work done: minimal.
- I studied all weekend.
- Studying all weekend makes me depressed. I hate it, I wish I was outside and/or having sex, I grow resentful of others who are outside and/or having sex, I feel stressed, my back aches etc.
- Rugby knows the above.
- Rugby wanted to catch up this wkend. I said let me know what you're doing Saturday night and maybe we can hang out.
- I hear from him at about 4pm saying he'd be over, but not until "later" in the night.
- I respond. Ask will he need food out of politeness (assuming that "later" means after dinner).
- Him: yes will need food.
- I panic. Have no food in house, and had been planning on eating tinned spaghetti on toast or some such instant dinner.
- Waste precious study time searching for food.
- Waste precious study time showering.
- Receive text at 7pm saying he'll be there in 15 mins. What part of 7:15pm = later?
- Waste precious study time panicking about cooking.
- Waste precious study time actually cooking and preparing a f *cking salad. what was I thinking? He's a rugby player. Like he eats salad.
- He arrives.
- He arrives empty-handed.
- No wine, no dessert, no bread, no cheese, no eff-ing anything.
- Murderous thoughts flit through my head. Do not consider this waste of time as so enraged following brilliant preparation and execution of seafood lasagne and rocket & parmesan salad.
- He comments, as I am muttering darkly about how I hope the food is ok (I didn't mean that sentiment at all, but felt it was the polite thing to say), that he had been thinking "all day" about cooking dinner for me.
- ALL DAY. And he arrived empty-handed.
- I am gobsmacked briefly.
- Resume brilliant preparation.
- Ask if he wants a glass of wine. Yes he would.
- Not that he brought a bottle.
- Eat. Delicious.
- Dessert. Also delicious.
- He still looks hungry, but I refrain from offering more food.
- I am tired and achy and crabby. He does not pick up on this.
- I request back rub.
- He looks at me as though have asked him to murder his mother.
- He commences lame, feather-light "massage".
- I suggest he take things up a notch and actually put some pressure on my muscles: "Well go on. That's what your muscles are for".
- He sighs. He SIGHED after I cooked him delicious dinner!!!!!
- 3 minutes of horrifyingly gentle, non-massage-y and also totally non-sexual "back rub" later - he announces "I'm stopping now". As though he is a martyr for allowing this highly inconvenient intrusion into his Saturday night in the first place.
- *sigh*
- I fall asleep on couch. Wake up. Tell him am going to bed.
- He continues watching 'Groundhog Day'. On free to air tv. With ads.
- Some time later, he appears beside me in bed with boner pressing into my tired, aching back expecting sex.
- I mutter something incoherent as in that stage of sleep where so tired, it's like swimming out of concrete to wake up.
- He SIGHED! again!!!!! And grumbled!
- And rolled over and did ANGRY SLEEP MANOEUVRE!
- Me = unimpressed.
- He drops me at library in morning and we have coffee. He sits silent as though we have been married 80 years and have exhausted all avenues of conversation.
- I take the opportunity to discuss how busy I am all week. This is building up to the "I don't have time for this and it's not fair on you" excuse.
- Receive text message later in day saying: "Hi Penny. It was fun hanging out this weekend. It seems i like you even when you're slightly demanding".
- Me = WTF?
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