6th Week - Descent into Madness

It was beautiful when I walked home, a warm sun cutting through the November chill and my breath in the air obscuring the colours of the buildings at Oxford's heart. Why was I there? Well I had spent the previous two hours trying to leave, but the warmth and persuasion were too much, and I stayed. I was tired, kept dozing, sharing a single bed with anyone is trouble, and he is bigger than most. In a very lovely way.

Last night was mad. Crazy, insane and totally hilarious, I can't wait for tonight's gossip and banter. As we had anticipated, the shit hit the fan early on with a terrible game of I've Never.

But let me backtrack a moment. Tuesday night I went for drinks. Yes, plural drinks. It was really nice. Nicer than I've had in a long time, and we walked back through the cold night, through quads and up stone staircases. His room had an incredible view. As we talked, I wondered why it was so comfortable, he wondered the same aloud. And instead of going home early I stayed until late, generally felt that things went stupidly well.

Now where was I? Oh yes, I've Never. And it began that he and I were suddenly the only one's drinking. I don't quite know how that happened to be honest. Well, clearly, as DPG said later on, we are well-suited. Later I would joke that the game spoiled any chance I had at maintaining the demure innocence that I had been wearing on Tuesday night. And he would then laugh at me, claiming there was never such a thing.

But drinking immense amounts of cheap wine did not go over so well, and when we tottered out onto the street I was buzzing. And I hadn't been as warm as I could have been, not knowing what he expected or what he wanted or what would be appropriate. And when we got to the club, things started happening in high speed. His arms around me from behind, and a shared moment that surely opened everyone's eyes to the situation. And it was so nice. But suddenly my ladies were hooking up and I was hooking up with my ladies. Its what tends to go down. *sigh* And he somehow took offense, and I had put my foot in it, and before you could say "too much to deal with" we were having some talk and I was showing my hand. No matter how convinced I am that I want to keep my cards hidden, there is always something. Not that it mattered, but today DPG confessed that she had told him I really liked him.

And so, even though I would rather have stayed, we left. Left the madness, to be recounted today in fits and bursts, and much more sober than I had arrived, we wandered our way home. On the way, my phone beeped, and the Madman from last Saturday admonished, not to leave with Canadians, despite their relative sanity. I half-grinned. Feeling both good and guilty at the same time. I can barely recall the route, preoccupied with professions of trust and mistrust, life lessons learned the hard way. With age comes maturity sure, but with age comes experience, good and bad, and these may cloud our eyes. Baggage aside, it was all I could do not to tear my hair out in frustration. But all's well that ends well.

And now its almost the weekend, another wasted shift at the library, another training session and its Friday again, time for our now-traditional dinners and spontaneous outings. I am hoping that tomorrow evening goes better than our last attempt, and thinking of extending an invitation to the Man. My friend's opinions being as important as they are, I really would like them to meet him sooner, rather than later, so they can understand the silly smile on my face.