It is 1am, and I’ve decided that HarryPotter is a fuckwit. We were supposed to go see the film PAUL. It’s been set in stone for a week now. Friday night. Frost and Pegg. No excuses.
But he got into a major strop and we didn’t go.
Okay, it might partially be my fault, but why does he have to act like a child? I was a bit upset about Goatee’s lunch date. Not ‘crying and sad’ upset. ‘Annoyed that Goatee purposefully met the girl at the office’ upset. He could have met her out; I didn’t have to know that he had a date. He told her to come to MNM just to make me feel like shit. And it worked. I spent the day fuming.
I decided on Thursday that HarryPotter and I would just be friends. I didn’t want to ruin a good friendship. Once I decided that he would not be my next boyfriend (yeah, it does sound a bit juvenile when I say it like that, okay my next ‘lover’, no that sounds creepy), I started to relax, and I was less jittery around him. I could finally make eye contact again, and in turn he was being less shy as well. (One lesson I’ve learned from this experience is that if you act like an awkward git with someone you fancy, they’ll act like an awkward git in return.) By Friday afternoon, it felt like old times, which was perfect timing, because I wanted to have a major rant about Goatee. So I did.
HarryPotter and I went out to the café for lunch, and I had a moan about Goatee being a sleazy scumbag. And it felt good…as it always does after having a chin wag with a close friend. So, on the ride home from work, I started bitching about Goatee again. I just wanted to get it out of my system. I don’t fancy Goatee; I’m just still a little raw about the whole relationships/break-up.
Evidently, HarryPotter is completely incapable of being a friend, because by the time we got back to the flat I could tell he was getting stroppy. He stormed into the lounge threw down his backpack, and said, ‘For fuck’s sake. What do you want me to do about it? If you want to get back together with him, then get back together with him. I don’t fucking care!’ And he threw himself on the sofa and started playing a stupid war game on the Xbox.
We were only supposed to stop by the flat to grab a quick bite to eat before going to the cinema, so I ignored his tantrum and said, ‘We’re leaving in a few minutes. I don’t know if you have time for a game.’
He went off. He did the whole ‘You’re not my mum, you’re not my girlfriend, you’re just someone I’m letting crash in my place. You cannot tell me what to do. I’m not going to the fucking cinema tonight.’
I have no idea where all this shit came from. Okay, I did spend the day rambling on about Goatee, but so what? That’s what friends do. You rant to each other. Plus, HarryPotter is usually quite passive aggressive when he’s annoyed. I miss passive aggressive HarryPotter; he’s easier to ignore.
After he went off on me, I said, ‘Don’t worry. I’ll pay you rent for living here. I know my place as a lodger,’ and I stormed into my room and rang D. We spent ages on the phone; then I Skyped B and R. Who I also talked to for ages. It’s good to have friends who’ll let you go on a massive rant, even on a Friday night, when I’m sure they have better things to do. They are real friends.
Screw HarryPotter. I’m glad I didn’t tell him how I feel. He can right fuck off.
Now if I could just fall asleep. I’ve got so much whirling around in my head. HarryPotter has been shooting Nazis all night, and I can’t help but wonder if he’s taking his anger with me out on digital SAS officers. Also whizzing around my brain is Goatee and that undergrad. I can’t help but wonder if she’s at his house, on his red sofa, taking it up the jacksy. And of course, the whole job thing is also keeping me awake. Where I am going to live in a month? What I’m doing with my life? Arrrrrgggggh. It’s just too much.
…26 days to go.