Sheets to the wind

Its amazing the difference a bed sheet makes. Last night I felt melancholy, unable to shake the strangeness that had come over me the previous evening. I smiled through dinner, wondering what the point was, and left early to have another beer and try to shake myself out of things. Didn't work. Put pants on and went down to find my friends. Was accosted by my forgotten promise, to dress up in a bed sheet and wear ivy in my hair. Sweet.

So dress up we did, the three of us, those ladies are amazing. Ivy crowns in our hair, we swept into the pub, all smiles. Amazing how much my mood improved just because I was wearing a silly costume! But we had photos and we drank and we danced. I had an amazing time.

So then something strange happened. Somehow, somehow he saw me and decided that it was it. Made me promise to dance. He was on our list, and I was drunk. Some tequila later... the dance was less of a dance than a rotating kiss. Strange. So strange. So we went outside, because I can't bear to kiss in public, and he thought I was shy. I didn't try to dissuade him, having had a pertinent conversation with James earlier in the evening. Twenty seconds of sitting on concrete and a female whirlwind accosted us. My french comprehension dulled by alcohol, I asked him what had transpired. "She likes me, don't worry about it, forget it" Before I could, another one emerged. This time, he aquiesced. I took myself inside, telling them I wasn't going to deal with it. Two minutes and they were gone. I wrote him off.

The story goes, after finding him later in the evening and sequestering ourselves in his room, was that things were more complicated than I cared to get in to (plus, the whole not understanding thing was getting silly) and although the evening stayed PG, it was very nice. Interrupted by half an hour of yelling and pounding on the door, me convinced that I should go out and tell her where to go, and just feeling badly for him and all the people on his floor who would know. As he said, wisely, the program ends tomorrow. He is right.

I had an excellent last night then, and tonight is a French celebration and we have Fin du Monde beer to celebrate with. As I told him this morning, you just have to teach your body some respect. My fingers are flying, but I should return home. My temporary home. I will miss this.