Wednesday, 6 June 2012

Backie with a Babe

What a fucking night.

So... B.F. tries to make me sleep over again (sneakily), even though I have zero intention of doing that tonight (haven't had any kind of wax for nearly a month, wearing gay pants... all the usual precautions). Once I say I have to leave, he keeps coyly grabbing me, and cheekily wrestling with me to try and get me to stay, and then I lose it and literally roll myself off his bed, saying, 'NO, SERIOUSLY NOW.'
So he huffs and puffs all the way to the metro stop with me (don't particularly need him to do that), and then keeps me lingering by kissing me a lot and as usual, I have to physically run down the steps to get him to stop.
I know I'm risking missing my curfew, so I'm tense until I get to my metro change, and then the fucking screen says '7 minutes' until the next train. Christ almighty. Waiting for the metro for any longer than 3 minutes feels like a life.time. So I get to my stop at literally 10 minutes to 1 (and we all know that my foyer closes its prison gates to the whole world at 1...)
I run all the way through the metro station to my exit, with fucking smart dicks laughing at me, and when I get to the exit the fucking DOORS ARE CLOSED. My God. If I wasn't panicking before then I'm panicking at this point. So I run back through the station, having to hop over various ticket booths, run past same smart dicks as before, who by this time can't believe their luck at getting the opportunity to laugh at me a second time... Then emerge on the other side of the world, and I am not the most natural with directions, so being on this opposite side is disorienting to say the least...
So I run blindly, until I see another human being (an unsuspecting waiter). By this point I'm panting, and a sweaty, stringy, Gypsy Boy Fringe is in full swing, so when I squeak, 'excusez-moi, mais c'est ou l'hopital?!' (nearest landmark to the foyer), he's probably thinking I want to go and check myself in. Barely stop to properly listen to his directions. Carry on running. So lost.
See another girl, zooming past on her push bike. By this point it's about 4 minutes to 1, and I'm envisaging having to crawl back into the metro station to snuggle up to a tramp/the men who'd been taking the piss out of me and my less-than-Olympic running. When I shout, 'Excusez-moi, je cherche Rue .......', I think I may look slightly/enormously desperate. But alas, she tells me the way, and then as she turns away I make a sort of animalistic wail. Luckily, she's a nice girl, because she basically says, 'just get on the back of my bike you outrageous creature.' So another 1.5 minutes are lost with me struggling to get a grip of her waist/slipping off the back/almost having a self-pitying crying session. So this angel struggles her way round a few corners with me clinging to her, and also feels it necessary to say a significant amount of tines, 'I really don't think you'll make your curfew you know.' Yeah, cheers. She then drops me off SO. FUCKING. FAR. AWAY. FROM. MY. FOYER. (I mean, I'm grateful for the help, but if you REALLY want to help, can't you just pedal to my door?? Help a sister out!) 

Needless to say, by now I am a train wreck, and I feel like I'm going to pee my pants; can't even bring myself to check my watch anymore, and just it feels like it's all over. But the worst is yet to come, as I run across roads without even looking left, right, and left again, hurtle my way around corners, and speed (let's use that word extremely loosely) down my road. Which feels like the longest road anyone's ever come across. THE LONGEST. I swear to god, it's never ending. It never ends. I can't even see the end of it. And yet in the daylight, it feels like a very reasonable and manageable length. I make the fatal mistake of looking at my watch, and it definitely says 1am. 1am. 1 a fucking m. Christ. I don't want to sleep on the street. I don't even like camping.
As I approach the gate (which I do, eventually), I literally know I'm too late. I know it's not going to open. And yet I don't know what to do about it. In the last 5 seconds of my relay, I decide that I'm going to call B.F. to ask him for a taxi number, which I'll use to take myself to his house, where I'll charge the taxi to him, and then refuse to ever leave or some shit, just to get him back for this fucking ordeal I've had to go through just because he wanted to stroke my hair for an extra 10 minutes.
Guys, you may not believe this next bit, but as I swipe my key fob on the gate, the little light goes green, and the gate O P E N S. IT ACTUALLY OPENS!
And not only! The main door opens too!!
Just all the doors open that I need to open, and I'm inside, and I can't even believe my luck, and I look at my watch, and it's 1:01, and I must have JUST made it, and shit, I haven't run this far or this fast since school/ever, and shit I can't breathe now, and I think I'm maybe definitely going to collapse, and where's the nearest chair?, and oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit.
I sit very very very still for a good 10 minutes, and then I start to regain my senses, and I take myself veeeeeery slowly up to my floor, where I collapse on my bed, and send B.F. the bitterest text I can muster. I use my angry French, and let him know that next time (not that he deserves a next time after this), when I say I have to go, I have to fucking go. No messing around anymore.
He replies, and corrects my French. I. SWEAR. TO. GOD.
Never fucking speaking to him again. He says his pillow smells like my perfume, and now he can't sleep. GOOD!! BECAUSE I NEARLY FUCKING HAD TO SLEEP ON THE STREET!
In future, if it's not Ryan or Gerard then I am NOT risking anything like this ever again.

Now that I've had an hour or so to recover and vent, you may be interested to know that I've really rather warmed to B.F. in the last week, regardless of all the piss that I take out of him, and all of the scoffing that takes place regarding his affectionate ways.
Don't you dare fucking tell anyone this... but sometimes I even kinda like him kissing my head.
Oh God...

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