Three Quarters Crazy

Just back from visiting my friend Dee (see earlier posts) and her new boyfriend (well, I say "new", they've been going out for about 18 months, she's 7 months pregnant and they're moving in together shortly).

I wasn't sure how I would feel about this but I've met her boyfriends before so I didn't think it would be catastrophic - and indeed it was OK. He's rather good looking, intelligent, seemingly very nice, and significantly younger than her (which is what she seems to like).

But last night I had troubling dreams of loss and regret, I think. I feel a bit out of sorts today too. Maybe it's just a hangover from the single malt I indulged in before bed, but I really want to be asleep again and not have to put up with consciousness for a bit. Only 1-2 on a melancholia scale of 10 I think. I've had a lot of time to get used to the idea that Dee is not for me I guess. About 18 years probably...

Indira news - last Friday (6 Jan) she came to my desk and we had a long chat - she said I hadn't told her much about myself and I pointed out that I had in fact told her some fairly substantial things, but as she wanted further details I would see what I could do. Important not to spill all the beans at once and destroy one's mystery, I suggested. We had a talk about exercise and I suggested I could cycle over to her house before work and act as her personal trainer - take her running round the park. from this we went on to Bim's London Marathon run and how getting fit had improved his figure and landed him a new toyboy. She then suggested something sotto voce about how this would maybe work for me also and perhaps hinted at her own involvement - I didn't quite catch this so "what was that?" I asked and she wouldn't say. Hm - what a minx she is.

Anyway, research reveals an e-mail from Padraig that same day telling her he was off to Ireland for a week. Connection? Who knows...?

Then last Thursday she suggested next Friday (20 Jan) for lunch, which I accepted. So that's where we are presently. I shall try and revisit the exercise scenario and tell her I'd like to see her work up a bit of a sweat, also suggest that if I'm going to tell her a secret (I'll give her a choice between sex, drugs, rock 'n' roll, politics, criminality or public sector housing I think) then she should tell me one. And then there's the matter of the postponed Xmas kiss, which I might mention if the occasion merits along with the delayed kiss for my birthday, her birthday, in celebration of her getting the new job, etc. "Shall I get the key to the stationery cupboard or would you prefer somewhere even more romantic?" I could essay.

Or not, as the case may be.

This blog has proved sadly reductionist I must say; at least there was a little bit of social comment at the start but it's morphed into a diary of romantic (or sexual) obsession and nothing else. Perhaps I'll try and retrieve the situation but I haven't the energy right now - and it's bedtime.

(Mrs K's sister agreed to visit me for lunch next week also but I know she won't turn up...)