Monday, June 13, 2011

I know everyone hates it but being made the Banker in Monopoly is sometimes a good thing and should be treated as a compliment but also it is frustrating especially when people start buying hotels and stacking them up and Monopoly goes for way too long anyway it's only fun at the start and always ends in massive arguments, dissatisfaction and general unhappiness




My boyfriend cheated on me. Seems like this sort of thing happens to me a lot. My first boyfriend went camping with his family one summer over new years and made out with and ‘fingered’ some girl on a swing set. I only found out afterwards because he and his brother prank txted me on their way home. I told him I loved him. He told me “three fingers”. I felt sick. But mainly I think though because I didn’t actually love him and I felt dishonest. After that I vowed never to tell someone I loved them unless I was super adamant. I was probably sad for like a day and then some boy txt asked me out. Turns out that was a prank too but I didn’t say yes. He sent it to heaps of my friends and we all started txting talking about it. I sent his friend (who I knew he was with) a txt off my dad’s phone pretending to be the girl he liked and asked him out only I’d forgotten that I’d saved my dad’s number in his phone a couple of weekends before.

 The next boyfriend I had was really nice and shy and quiet. He had little lips where the top one was kind of flat against the bit of skin between the nose + lips, or the philtrum. Kissing was fun but hard work; I felt like my lips were the Colosseum and he was a tiny grain of sand. It was probably pretty intimidating for him as well so it wasn’t surprising when I found out he kissed someone else although it wasn’t the reason for the break up. I’d kind of disliked him for a while. I suppose I thought I really liked him when we met at a friend’s party (he was so cool he made out with me on the couch the entirety of the night until I got picked up by my mum at 11:30). It was a Friday when we broke up. I spent the whole day looking at the clock tick tick tick hoping time would recognise my impatience and accelerate but just until I got to his house. I had rehearsals for the Shakespeare Festival though so I had to lie on the ground pretending to be dead in someone’s interpretation of Macbeth with real symbolic red wool wrapped around my face/neck/hands all the while my heart was thumping like a bear would thump on a car if it was drenched in honey but only on the inside. I have never biked so boldly to a boyfriend’s house before. I have never biked so chill home from a boyfriend’s house before. I’d transcended the head wind. I think I replayed the conversation just one time in my head during the ride home. It went something like this:

me: uhh hi
him: hey. comein (opens the door to his room (his bedroom was the sleepout (omg that was so cool).).)
me: um actually I think that’s a bad idea
him: oh. why?
me: oh shit. idontwannagooutanymore
him: are you sure?
me: yes. I’m sorry. I would like to be friends only if you would though? ? ????
him: yes okay. um. hey. I’m sorry. but. I kissed chelsea on monday.
me: oh.
me: that’s okay. are you two going to go out now?
him: no. i don’t think so.
me: alright then.

I felt happy for him. Chelsea had really thin lips that were sort of always pursed. I thought how they would have fit together so perfectly like lock and key. Lil lip on lil lip. Minimal saliva. I thought of his timid little face lighting up with the promise of maybe owning dominant kissing-lips! He was always so submissive between mine. We stayed friends for a wee bit but it fizzled out soon after. I do remember talking on msn; he called me “his favourite ex gf”. I figured the trick was to not like the person you date so much.

 The next boyfriend I had was big and not from NZ. He was also racist and had a mohawk. We dated for about two years. I have never been on a rollercoaster but I imagine it would feel like dating this guy without the feelings of exultation and success and only the feelings of intense anxiety and pre/post throw-up. One time though, for Christmas we retired early for the night and I got undressed and into bed and he came in completely naked except for his lower half wrapped up in wrapping paper. I remember saying “this is the best christmas present I’ve ever had” except that the best christmas present I’ve ever had was probably a board game I got when I was four where you had to dodge this vicious dog that you had to wind up first that wizzed around trying to eat you. Anyway it ended in this long drawn-out week-long episode of me walking in on him and some girl, me not talking to him, us sorting it out, me walking in on him and that same some girl, him yelling, me crying, me yelling and cutting my hand on some broken glass resulting in the loss of some movement in my hand and a massive ugly scar, a broken window, a broken heart and some mild bruising. I cried all day until I went to the movies with my bleeding hand wrapped up in tissue paper, reaching awkwardly over to grab a handful of Starburst Squirts with my left hand to the all-pervasive positivity of Jim Carrey in Yes Man . In retrospect this may have been the most comical day of my life.

 So here I am, cheated on again. My boyfriend just returned from visiting his aunt in the South of France. He slept with some girls over there. But I figured that I would probably do that too. Or at least be tempted. I can’t decide whether it counts as ‘cheating’ or not though because technically we broke up over the summer/winter but also technically he isn’t real and I made him up about a year ago when I was really bored at work with the ex gf of bf #2 and sort of took it really seriously.

1 comment:

  1. This is really Gordon. The French girls sound nice. Cheating is for cheaters. Your next imaginary boyfriend should definitely have a moustache.

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