Besame Mucho

Sunday

Getting any sort of rest this weekend was clearly not meant to be. James had invited someone over last night and while I was trying to catch up with some work I'd missed for calling in sick this week, they were clearly doing their best to compete with Gingerpuss's wailings (poor thing is in heat, I really should get around to getting her fixed).

When I confronted him with it this morning he apologised and said he hadn't expected me to be home; he figured I'd be out with that chap that ended up on the couch the other night. I gave him two weeks to find somewhere else to hang his hat - enough is enough, really. It isn't like James is hurting for money or employ and I am climbing the walls for having someone else - especially my brother - living here.

So while he was cleaning out my fridge of whatever contents could be considered sustenance, he made some rambling aside about how he couldn't fathom why I would be with someone like that guy, what was his name again? "Gabriel." He couldn't figure it out, because it seems to be against my typical grain of boy. I told him to stuff it and what did he know about my tastes in anything, especially men. He told me to stop being so cranky and then added that he was wondering what Gabriel did to merit having to sleep on the couch. I told him nothing, not wanting to admit I was too drunk to remember what had happened.

"Does Ray know about him?"

"What does Ray have to do with anything?"

"Nothing, just wondering."

Grrr! People these days I tell ya.

I think I am still cranky about losing one of my favorite shoes and the whole exchange with Audrey still has me rough around the edges. I've had several people ask me why the hell we are friends in the first place and I could explain it but they can't really understand. I think it's just that I see the Audrey most people don't see - the nice, helpful, philanthropist who has a softer heart than her string of conquests and foul mouth (and fouler temper) might suggest.

Take her pet Roman, for example. She rescued him from the pound. Not too many people know that - as far as they are concerned, this Roman was purchased from a top breeder.

The phone just rang and I didn't bother picking it up, just let the answering machine catch it. It was Gabriel of course, asking if he'd left his coat over here. As I cannot see it anywhere, I can only presume it ended up going home with his mystery date the other night. I am still a bit peeved about that as well. It's pretty evident to me now that Gabriel's thin excuse of bringing a book over was more or less to see if he could get some. I, being too drunk to do anything about it, could only offer him the warmth of my couch as a solace for striking out with whoever it was.

I don't want to be jealous, but I am. I keep reminding myself that we are not an item, and likely never would be. When it comes down to it, I cannot see myself "settling down" with him (or anybody else at present for that matter). But I still get the twinge of jealousy. I can't help it. I'm like a kid that wants all the toys, but doesn't want to share any. Paws off, people. And he knows that I don't truly want a relationship with him, which is probably the allure on his end of things. A girlfriend who really isn't a girlfriend? Sign him up! Hurrah!

Now I'm off to meet with a client and talk them out of a really hideous plan - pastel rainbow decorations for a business conference. I love my job, I love my job.

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Butterflies fluttered at 10/17/2004 02:22:00 PM
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