A Tourist in Your Life

I’m absolutely knackered. Do all my blog posts now begin with that line? I seriously need to do something to rectify that. Perhaps the answer is get some sleep. But I’ll do that later, after blogging.

Right, on Monday night Pete didn’t come home until 3am. I had no idea where he was and I waited up worrying. I was so knackered at work that I couldn’t concentrate, and I felt like the whole day was a wash. Oh (just to recap) there were builders in the house/office, which totally didn’t help.

Because of my fatigue and general annoyanceness (Yeah, I can make up words if I want. I’m in publishing. What are you going to do about it?) So, anyway, due to my general annoyanceness, I was in a right foul mood when I came home from work. I had long since given up the whole ‘Pete’s on holiday, don’t get angry, just let things slide’ mentality, and I instead slipped into the ‘Why does he get to laze about and party all day and all night when I have to work?’ mentality. Therefore, when I got home and the flat was filled with PoshPhD smoke and thumping music, I had enough. I went straight to my bedroom, slammed the door and flung myself on the bedtress. I didn’t want to talk to them, but I wanted them to know that I was in no mood. No mood, I tell you!

Much to my annoyance, no one did anything. Pete didn’t come in to see what was wrong, or to offer solace for being a gap year twat. No, instead, he started playing the guitar and singing. Like I wasn’t even upset. He just ignored me. I was so pissed off, I came out the room, stormed into the lounge, picked up a book (I didn’t need a book, and I can’t even remember which book I got, but I wanted them to see how mad I was), then went back into my room and slammed the door.

The guitar playing and singing continued, and I was getting angrier by the second. 

Then the door opens and Pete waltzed in while strumming and singing a ridiculous song he made up, ‘Why is [My Name] such a grumpy bear? She thinks I do not care, but I doooooooo’

I caught the hem of PoshPhd leaving the flat as the door shut, and Pete kept on singing. I wanted to think his singing was cute, and I really wanted this to make up for the late nights. But I was just so knackered, and it made things worse. I blew-up. I yelled that I was tired, and unlike him I had to work, and I needed to get some FUCKING SLEEP!

He put down his guitar, and I thought he was going to sit on the bed and try to apologise, but instead he came at me with a verbal left hook, ‘You think this is easy for me? I feel like a tourist in your life. I don’t know if you want me out of the house to give you a bit of space, or if you want me around. It’s not like New Zealand — and I didn’t expect it to be — but I at least thought…I thought we’d be the same people.’

I had been lying on my side, so I rolled over. ‘I am the same person’ I said. ‘I’m just not on a gap year anymore.’

He said he knew that. That he didn’t expect me to still be on holiday. But he thought that since I was discovering a new city, he could discover it with me. Since both of us were new to town, this would be the best way for him to slot into my life. A new life for both of us. (I will say this much for Pete, since he’s a North American, he’s much more open about things. I would have never had this conversation with a British man.)

I agreed, and said that I had been thinking the same thing. But the long nights were killing me. I can manage the occasional late night, but not every night. I needed to be in bed by a reasonable hour, like 1 or 1:30. He said he understood, then lied down on the bed and pulled his arm across me and kissed me.

I kissed him back, running my hand up the back of his shirt. He climbed on top of me and started pulling up my clothes. I felt like we were back in New Zealand. We spent the night on and off the bedtress, and during the silence in between I couldn’t help but think that maybe I was just a little jealous. (By the way, I would never admit that to his face.) I want to still be on holiday. I want to be in Uni. I want to stay out late every night, going to clubs and weird random’s parties. I want Pete’s life.

But I can’t have Pete’s life, and still have my own. I just have to figure out a way to compromise. Plus, Pete is on a gap year. He won’t be here for long, and I’ll regret being such an old fogy when he’s gone back to Canada. Missing a little sleep now will be worth it for the memories later.

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