Puhleese

I think I learnt rather late in the piece the integrity of the maxim - don't screw the crew. But I don't really regret the affair itself so much, as I do how glaringly obvious I was about how much I really liked him when it all fell apart, when we had 'mutually' agreed from outset that it wasn't going to lead anywhere. This was all sometime ago, and we don't keep in touch, but we have recently been bumping into each other regularly in town. (Rue that tiny Wellington CBD) The most recent crossing of paths I'd been all set to pretend i hadn't seen him and he, he crossed the road to talk to me, so feeling all benevolent and secure in the bliss of being newly attached, I suggested lunch. Mostly I think because it was awkward us both hovering there smiling sheepishly with precious little to say. But as I've already stated, I did quite like him. There was this euphoric connection between us for awhile that effectively severed the clammy cobwebs stringing me back to a train wrecked six year relationship. I guess I have that to thank him for.

So anyway, the lunch was today. Mid-morning I was thinking why the fuck. Even drafted the text saying I couldn't make it. And then thought - what the hell. I did feel like sushi and it was such a glorious day to break out of the office. And I'd had dinner the previous eve and breakfast with the boy (sorry James I mean, "the man").... So I got there a bit late and he's sitting all curly mopped and casual and I'm in black pants and jacket and the top I realised in retrospect that I'd worn the last night we were together. And after the initial greeting I go up to find the dish I get everytime I have California sushi, teriyaki chicken and cream cheese and cranberry, and out of the corner of my eye I see he's talking to another chick. And i think brilliant, he's brought his girlfriend. I'm trying to figure out how i'm going to casually drop the fact I have a boyfriend as I bowl on up to her and throw out my hand and introduce myself. She's all meek and mousy and flower childish, but cute. Anyway a wee way into the conversation it becomes clear they're at acupuncture school together but they don't know enough about each other to be an item. But i'm paranoid and convinced he's brought her along in the delusional belief that I'm going to throw myself at him and that pisses me off. Or amuses me. So through lunch i'm manically upbeat, dominating the conversation with a fluid stream of what this person is doing now and self-deprecating humour and my own unique blend of cutesy cynicism. He sits there spine bolt upright in his meditative, vegetative, I've been playing with too much Moxa kindof way. And I momentarily float back in time and think, why, why have I never ever been able to play hard to get. The clincher comes when I start to wind things up and he invites me to watch his band play at Bodega this weekend. Ugghh. I might have been a potential groupie recruit at one point young man (he actually is a few years younger, what can I say, I was rebounding), but not now.

I don't know why this was even worthy the entry to be honest. I think it concerns me, the imprint that these "relationships" can actually have on your emotional and sexual psyche. For instance, I am still struggling not to think of the current boy as 'Mark' (the six yearer). I have to consciously form the present boy's name sometimes, and it can sound forced and unnatural, no unnatural is too strong. It's like rolling a completely new flavour around in your mouth for the first time and it's too early to know how much you appreciate it. I suppose it's hardly surprising when i think that other than Mark, I haven't had a 'proper' boyfriend since I was 16, almost 10 years ago. I still dream about him sometimes. I think about him pretty regularly. Not with any angst or regret or wistfulness. But he's just there in the cerebral repositories, floating around in god knows how many memories tied up with a lot of significant events in my life. Jacob was a month old when we met. He came with mum and frank and jake to drop me off at Weir House. He was at my 21st. He moved me up to Auckland. He was at my admission to the Bar, though it was basically over then. He was at mum's funeral, good god I think he was a pall bearer. I've spent a quarter of my life with him.

But here I am now, in the present. And feeling myself sinking in a delicious kind of way in to a pit ripe and rich with the makings of even more dysfunction. I'm smiling as I write that.......