Friday, Aug. 10, 2018 - 10:49 pm.
After a few weeks of assorted commitments, these past week was very relaxed. It's been an opportunity for Andrew and I to introduce some changes in our daily routine, such as working from home, since now we're just writing up our thesis, and exercising.
Actually, I could have made one huge move this week: Steven Tyler was playing in London on Tuesday. STEVEN TYLER. I'd known for a while and I had decided to skip it. My old Aerosmith-obsessed self was appalled by this decision, and my present self was also surprised by it. But see, I said, it's a bit pricey and he's playing country music, which I really don't care for. Plus, I've seen him live three times now, which is three times more than I thought I would in my life. Hell, I even made a fool out myself in front of him and he called me sexy beast. I'm a mere mortal and I cannot aspire to more than that with a rock'n'roll god, so I consider myself satisfied.
As Tuesday came closer, though, I started second-guessing my decision. Someone on a message forum posted a review of a previous concert, it was a good concert. "Dude", I said to myself, "seriously, I know you've moved on, but this guy remains, like, the love of your life. And for once he's in the same country as you!"
I checked our home budget. I looked at my impending Brighton trip (*sigh* it was so good. I want to go back there). I told Andrew I was thinking of going. He's always this encouraging little voice that tells me to go get what I want, and he sounded excited by my impulse. But then I told him the estimated price of the whole thing (concert ticket + train ticket + a place to spend the night), and while he did not say don't go, he did not insist that I did. That to me was an important sign.
So I didn't go. A part of me was painfully sorry to miss it, incredulous at my nerve of passing on Steven Tyler. But Tuesday came and went and I didn't give it much thought. It turns out that I am at a stage in my life where I'd rather spend that money on traveling with Andrew. And I would have been gone only for about 24 hours, but I was able to spend that time on making progress on my PhD and other shenanigans.
I'm Sorry, Steven. Next time we meet, it will be because you're coming to me (who am I kidding, I'll probably make the effort next time Aerosmith plays remotely close to me. Because, yo, their most recent tour was not their farewell tour. Which I suspected, but also, you never know)
In other news, I was very pleased to feel that my crush on my friend A, from the Psych department, had gone away. Boy, was I wrong. It's rampant, incendiary. I am crushing SO hard on her. It's a mix of like and lust that drives me wild if I don't distract myself quickly.
I thought the crush had gone away because I hadn't talked much to her last week. Then this week she had Tinder woes and I helped her a bit with that, so we got back to talking on a daily basis about personal stuff. I act cool around her, she's my friend and I'm not gonna go and be a creep around anybody, but as soon as she turns her back on me, I'm setting myself on fire.
One of these afternoons, Andrew and I were at a coffee shop in our neighborhood (the joys of working from home) and I had my back to the window. He then said that I should have gotten his seat because two or three girls that I would have liked walked by the coffee shop.
Me: Really?So what's my type? [Note: I'm easy. I'd say yes to many types]
Him: Like A. Tattoos, that sort of style. I think you'd get it on with A if she was into women and if you weren't with me.
Me: That's very perceptive of you.
I quite appreciated the "if you weren't with me" comment. And I tried not to shrink in my seat by how perceptive he was indeed. Don't think my crush has any bearing on how I feel about Andrew, though. He's my crush, too! More than that, I'm happy with him, I'm in love with him.
Two writing updates:
1. The pitch for an article I wrote on bisexuality was rejected, which is just as well because that article is too self-centered (I will try to get it into a smaller publication, and if it doesn't work then, off with its head).
2. I'm getting restless about my manuscript because the publishing house should write back in August telling me if they are interested in reading the whole thing or not. A part of me is begging that they put me out of my misery, just hand me the rejection letter already, because publishers say no, that's what they do, regardless of the quality of the text. Another part of me is still hopeful. Painfully hopeful.