I goggled, er, no, although I do like the image (goggling Adam), um, googled Adam’s house in Mitcham (the boy whose only discernible skill is typing fast on a big calculator) and was pleasantly surprised at how pretty it was. You know, being in Mitcham I was expecting a brown brick veneer, but it was a very pretty Californian bungalow. Although, I was a little surprised, in one sense, as it looked exactly the same type of house Adam grew up in Balwyn, which he always hated, was kind of (I want to say ashamed, but that is probably a little strong) ashamed of it, in a display of, what could only be called, reverse snobbery.
Why was I googling his house? Yes, why indeed. Oh you know, I am as much of a sticky beak as the next person, but mostly it was because Rachel told me she had been invited to a BBQ at Adam’s house.
My initial reaction was, Adam always messages me on my birthday, without fail, but never invites me to anything like a BBQ at his house, not that I am dying to go, you understand. But, what is the point of the birthday text without fail every year, if there is nothing else? That is what I thought. What is it that he is hanging on to? I mean, there is nothing else, not since our spectacular financial falling when we were in our twenties? What kind of friendship does he think we have? We don’t have a friendship. I tried not responding to his birthday text messages there for a while? I stopped sending him a (contractually obligational on him messaging me, if you like) birthday text message for a few years, but he still text me on my birthday without fail, even if more recently, I have sent him birthday messages on his birthday, again, with the thought that it costs me nothing to be nice. But, really, what is the fucken point?
I text Rachel and told her I thought it was quite a pretty house. She misunderstood me, she thought I was being sarcastic, and she told me to be nice.
I ate lasagne for lunch. Kirin asked what I had for lunch. When I told her, she asked if I cooked it. When I said yes, she asked if I cooked for one.
“No, I live with my partner,” I replied.
“Oh”, Kirin and Kerin both said.
“Who is a better cook,” asked Kerin.
“My partner,” I said.
It was the first time I told them I had a partner.
When they asked me what he did, I told them he was a computer programmer.
I don’t try to hide it, or sugar coat it, I just answer questions about my relationship status and sexual orientation (oh, I know, it makes it sound like I am talking about a house extension) with straight answers. You know, for want of a better expression, without shame or hesitation, like it is just the most natural thing in life, no matter to whom I am talking. I have never, knowingly, had a problem with it.
I had a haircut after work. It was quite sunny as I rushed home up my street. I brought in the bins, changed my clothes and rushed down to Smith Street. Fat Boy said there was no rush as closing time was 6pm. I’m pretty sure he has a ‘thing’ for me. I have never had a hairdresser be so attentive in and out of the chair. I have never had a hairdresser caress me like he does with his stubby fingers. I’ve never had one rub up against me in quite the gentle, sensuous way that he does. I kind of like it, nose twitch, the big solid Turkish boof that he is.
I wanted to get my hair cut for next Tuesday’s BBQ at Jeff’s place. It was looking messy and by next Tuesday it would be worse. That way I could also get five days’ worth of, you know, settling growth. Not that I have any desires on Jeff – well, not many, nose twitch – but I still want to look good for him, so he can ponder what he is missing out on? (Ha ha, probably only in my mind, he probably won’t even notice, you know what guys are like?)
We ate stir fried veggies with the leftover roast chicken and the remains of the mince left over from the lasagne and tacos.
It was a lovely evening.
Sam stayed up and watched Big Brother with me again. Nice. I held his hand. Well? Nose twitch. That is the feeling sitting up with Sam engenders.
He went to bed just before 11pm.
I went outside and had a cigarette and watered a garden. A big bird flew silently onto one of the branches of the gum tree and appeared to watch me in the dark. Then it flew off just as silently as it came. Birds, at night, I thought? Is that a thing? I didn’t think it was. Am I ignorant of bird’s nocturnal habits, I thought, as I blew cigarette smoke into the still night air.
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