Tuesday, 23 October 2012

Circus Boy 2 - The Sequel

After my little snooze, I had to do all the usual Saturday crap with a raging hangover, completely knackered and looking like shit. Luckily I didn't go near anyone because I really didn't smell too healthy either. But I hadn't wanted to shower because I do like catching the odd whiff of boy after a naughty night.

Finally, about 7pm, I collapsed on the sofa, looking forward to a night of doing bugger all except maybe opening an eyelid occasionally to watch part of a Babylon 5 box set. And then my phone rang.

I didn't know the number, so my heart started beating a little bit, but partly because whenever I get unknown number calls I wonder if it is Steve, and especially now I really didn't want it to be. So I was SOOO relieved when it was Circus Boy. And really happy, and my ego left me with no room on my sofa, because he asked me to go out with him that night :-D

Now my natural instinct is to say yes to anything and everything and worry about the consequences later. So it was only when I got off the phone and stood up that I realised that even if I had the energy to get ready in time to catch the train in an hour and a half, I wouldn't have had energy to dance, or indeed move. In fact, just standing up left me distinctly woozy, and after struggling to shower, I almost passed out drying my hair, and I suspected that hungover middle-aged woman was not going to be a winning combo for him after all.

So I phoned Circus Boy back, and apologised, but said I'd been out all day and now my hangover was catching up with me and I didn't want to cramp his style, so I'd pass on that night, but please ask me again another time because I would like to meet him again. He was fine about it, and he had been sleeping all day anyway, so I didn't feel like I was a total lightweight. He even texted later on to tell me where he'd be if I wanted to join him, but wishing me a good night anyway and hoping I slept well.

On Sunday I didn't hear from him before I went to bed, but I wasn't really bothered, kind of assumed he'd copped off with someone else really. Then after I'd written my diary (how very inconvenient, because then subsequent events were written on the WRONG PAGE), he texted me. Now when I say I'd gone to bed, I've got into the habit of going to bed at about 8.30 on a Sunday, so this actually wasn't very late. We got text chatting, and then he suggested coming around to see me. Well, I wasn't about to turn him down twice, so up I got and luckily had just about enough time to touch up the make-up while he cycled over here.

What he didn't tell me was that it was a *unicycle*. One of so many things about him that make me smile is that he unicycles around everywhere. He'd brought over the rest of the Bailey's from the previous night, and when we finished that we moved onto some wine I had left over. Then he sat smoking out of the back door while we carried on chatting. Now when I say smoking, I am not talking cigarettes, and this was just the first inkling of quite how large a part drugs play in his life. Not anything like the part they play in Steve's life, but... well, you'll see.

There was a lot of ground covered that evening, things about family, past etc - and now I come to think of it, he probably knew a whole lot less about me by the end of the night than I did about him, but I had so many things to ask. He said he'd stayed over at a friend's on Saturday night, and then gone to Shelton (a mental health hospital) to meet another friend, so we chatted about that for a while, cos I used to work in mental health. Then we got onto his thoughts about the (reptilian-run) world, and how he'd like to change it. I may have felt a little differently if I'd have realised that in Circus Boy Language 'staying at a friend's' was very likely to mean 'shagging someone'. Then again, maybe I wouldn't, because I was enchanted by his tales of foreign travel and commune living. Fished in big time. And he still had that way of looking at me - no, not at me, into me, that kind of made my heart almost stop beating for a second.

When we eventually went to bed, it was gone 4am, and I had to get up at 7am, which pretty much meant another night with no sleep. THANK GOODNESS it was the holidays, so I was just going around residences, which isn't very intellectually demanding, and thankfully due to Steve's stalking, I am used to surviving on no sleep anyway.

Me and Son got up as usual, but I let Circus Boy sleep in until almost the time when we had to leave. This gave me time to convince Son that it hadn't been Steve who had stayed the night - because when had Steve learned to ride a unicycle? Son was quite interested in the uncycle thing, so when Circus Boy had drunk his cup of tea he showed Son his expertise on it, unicycling off up the driveway. Then unicycling back for a kiss, and off again.

The last bit bit of my diary entry for Monday (cos I had to write it on the WRONG DAY and I am still irked about that, even if this bit actually did occur on Monday) was, 'how the hell did I not notice on Saturday that he is HUNG LIKE A HORSE. I may well be the cat that got the cream, but what would really be useful now is a tube of Canestan.'

Still, I was about to have an awful lot of time to recover.....

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