I met Roman this weekend. Twice.
For the last month, I've been either socializing or starving in attempts to forget all about this boy because he lives...oh so far away. So when Comrade texted saying that Roman was in town this weekend, I was elated...beyond comprehension. But let's rewind for a sec, because much has passed since I last journaled.
First off- I'm still at 122ish range. By Thanksgiving, I hit 120 because of the liquid only diet, only to have it broken because I spent the night before sleeping in front of my doorstep because I locked myself out. Flatmate couldn't hear my frantic calls outside, let alone the buzzer, and with no cell on me, you get the idea. Since Thanksgiving, to last weekend, it has been a major eat fest. Parties mean eating and loads of drinking, and I have to say, I nearly had a heart attack while watching my weight increase pound by pound until I hit 125. No way. Just no way.
So. Where do I start? Much has happened...but I can't remember the full details of my life in the last month. The juicy parts consist of making out with Prince Akeen...first time he pulled away from surprise, the second time he got into it, and third time, on the dance floor at this club that some guy in our course had connections with, which got us loads of free drinks (we're talking premium vodkas etc), where Prince Akeen properly backed off because "you're so drunk Belle, I wouldn't want to take advantage of you". Cheers punk, I'm not interested in Africans anyway.
Fuck you.
(And your ferragamo belt.)
Seeing as I was rejected by the male gender, drunk Belle decided to rebound on the female gender...I remember properly making out with another girl from the class. Oh dear lord. I need to stop drinking, because clearly, I do and say silly things that will one day bite me in the ass. Perhaps I should take the equal opportunity approach to love. That might widen the field a bit.
Comrade. Same evening when said making out happened, I was apparently so drunk that I confessed to liking him the first couple weeks of term. After profusely apologizing the next day, apparently I said other things that I wouldn't have revealed in less inebriated state. What did I say? I now know. I haven't slept with anyone, and I only made out with guy before. He remembers, I feign ignorance.
Mannequin (previously called Prepster) and I are meeting up this week, because he finally contacted me--to have drinks last Friday. He almost demanded that I meet him, which proceeded in smoking many a cigarette bitching about the fact that life is always on his terms. The narrow minded prick irritatedly cancelled when I told him I had dinner plans, imaginary dinner plans that became real when folks from my course set up a rendez vous at what was apparently, an "amazing" Morrocan place on Regent Street. It was disgusting, but Adonis managed to charm the waiters into getting us the full sampling of the desert menu. And Morrocan Tea (The a la menthe). That tea was the highlight of my evening. It was effing delicious.
Last weekend, marked the end of my two week food gorging...because I attempted to quit smoking, but realized that I substitute fags for food, and that's even worse than having yellow teeth...which btw, in photos, I don't have...even though the whiteness has dulled since I've returned. Thank you Crest Professional Supreme Whitestrips for keeping my smile intact so that when photos are taken, people only see sparkles.
Marilyn, Mannequin's ex girlfriend spent two weeks with me because of her internship in London. I barely saw her, but when I did, it was the most fun I've had with a girl since returning to london..with the exception of my time with Angel. It's been awhile since I spent girly moments gushing over boys, painting nails, straigtening hair and getting drunk/returning home together at wee hours in the morning. My flatmate, in that sense, is quite boring. Ofcourse, last Saturday marked the end of her trip, to which we celebrated by heading to the oldest, and one of the more expensive, Indian restaurants on Regent Street. The bill, for two, was 140 pounds. Girls, I know we all talk about minFood at parties etc etc, but when I spend 70 on dinner, I better fucking eat all of it. Which I did. Then we head across the river on a whim to this random south pacific bar to dance/drink the night away. I got hit on by an architect who was properly feeling up my back and my ass...which would have been fine had it not been for my tights that were seriously cutting into my stomach. Oh yes, my period started the next day. I know.
What else? Met a whole slew of people from my bachelors degree, all giving me this new found respect now that I am undertaking a difficult degree. It was weird being respected...and not feeling invisible because usually with these folks, I'm sidelined as I was never cool enough to be on their "level". So when my ex flatmate decides to call me out, have drinks and properly chat for four hours, I was shocked. More so for leveling of attitudes than for inviting me. Clearly, I'm cool now. Fuck off, I've always been cool. I don't need a degree to tell me this.
I was trying really hard, really hard to forget about Roman. Comrade often retorts that I barely know this guy, but don't you just know? It's not love at first sight, but it's a strong attraction...and I was getting better at handling the disappointment of him not being here.
Until last Saturday, after a day of shoe shopping...I get a text from Comrade. That day was a day of mishaps...I was nearly 90 minutes late because (a) didn't look good, so changed into casual sexy mode...25 minutes (i know! so fast! shocking!) (b) took the wrong tube line, failure to find taxis and (c) phone died. Tube line might have been negligible had it not been the stop that's associated with my university. I know. Apparently, inspite of being 45 minutes late to his next party, Roman stayed to talk to me.
My only worry that evening was that he waited for nothing. Was I cool enough? Interesting enough? Was I worth the wait?
He invited me to go to said party, but seeing as it was Marilyn's last day, I wanted to spend my time with her. I'm glad I did for the next day, Comrade and Roman had drinks again, and I specifically stated to Comrade that he should invite me only if Roman wants me there. I went, once again, an hour late because...well, honestly, I was sleeping when I got the text. After a failed cab attempt that cost me all of 10 pounds to get only a few blocks from here, I speed walked to the bar...and properly chatted.
The night before, I felt like the conversation lulled...like we didn't have any common topics to discuss. Comrade tried, but I felt like I was being boring. The next day, it got better but not to the level of overflowing conversation that you'd expect when things click between people. Ofcourse, Roman invited me to party with them this weekend when he returns to London, and to spend some time at the end of the month to shop for a gift for his younger sister. So far so good? Not sure. I really don't know.
But...here's where I get more confused. The three of us caught the tube, with Comrade stopping at Holborn...leaving Roman and I to take the tube to Kings X, his point of departure to return home. We had half an hour to kill, so he bought coffee and we just talked...casual, testing the waters stuff...learning about past...likes/dislikes etc. He asked to walk with him to his platform (on the other end of the Kings X), at which point he hugs me before he leaves. Now...there was ten minutes left before the train left...which begs the question, did he go to find a seat and get settled in early, or did he find me boring and just wanted to get out of there?
I had to ask Comrade...told him I was surprised that he hugged me, since it was our third official meeting including the party. Comrade was like "i don't know why he didn't kiss you, i would have"...i don't know. Don't overthink? Over analyzing?
See he didn't even ask for my number. But then I learned that Roman had asked Comrade for it before he moved...so he has my number.
I don't know. I just dont. I'm going with the flow, but for once, I'd like something to work out...I don't expect it to happen soon or anything, but still. I like the guy. Fair enough, we're still getting to know each other yada yada yada, but I like just a bit more every time I see him. I really hope that's reciprocated. I do. I hope I'm not disappointing.
He's returning this weekend, and while I want to see him, should I meet up with him if Comrade asks. Like this is the thing, I feel like I'm going out of my way to see him (refer to mishaps in previous paragraphs)...but I don't want to seem desperate. I really dont. Should I play it cool and mysterious and be like "something came up, I have to do other things that are matter of urgency" or should I go to the party Comrade is arranging...where I know for sure I'll run into Roman? I want him to call me out personally instead of doing it through Comrade. He has my number, and he's my friend on facebook...surely that's not an issue.
I don't like being played around with. I can be tough if I have to be.
Anyway. That's that. I'm on break now, and am attempting to study (failing miserably, but attempting none the less)...sorry for the very belated updated, and even more apologies for the terrible summary I provided. Promise to write better next time.
Sigh.
Belle
