volcanic's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- confused. i am... Ooh. Listening to All Saints sing "Black Coffee", which is always the song I seem to gravitate towards when I'm feeling wistful thoughts of a romantic nature. I'm full up to the brim with Bob right now. He turned up yesterday and has spent at least 12 of the last 24 hours fiddling with my PC. I bought a new hard drive, so he shoved that in for me. he also acquired some more memory, and a sound card that's better than the one we had (Fatboy likes making music with stuff like SoundForge and Acid and FruityLoops and stuff. No, I haven't a clue, I'm afraid), which Bob thought would be good for Fatboy's endeavours. He also installed XP and a whole bunch of exciting software, and now my sad old PC is fast and efficient and very fab. He also installed millions of gigs (is that the right term?) of stuff for me, like lots of folders of art, and about 2000 mp3s. And there's still acres and acres of room left on the drives. For the first time EVER, I have a carefully selected playlist of tunes on the go as I type. It's Apollo440 singing "Don't Fear The Reaper" right now. Best of all, I found a folder full of Leather Nun, which is magnificent. And I told him so. There are so many bizarre and starnge things that we seem to have in common, from the Leather Nun thing, to liking the same kind of movies and stuff. I don't know. Is stuff like that real? Or is it just your imagination making tenuous links that your heart can cling onto for dear life, while your brain and your hormones conspire to make you think you're in love, so that you'll make a valiant effort to have sex, and thus prolong the species? It seems to be happening so often that it's getting corny. And yet, I feel so incredibly comfortable with this man. I wander in and out while he's fiddling with the PC, he helps himself to beers, we stop and chat. We talk all kinds of things, and it's just so easy... I don't know. I'd really like to hope that every time I meet a new man, it "feels different" to the last time. If it didn't, it'd suggest that either I was going out with clones, or repeating the same patterns, or just not moving forward. I'd like to think that my man-choosing skills were getting more finely honed each time that I use them, and thus logic tells me that each new man that I encounter should be better than the last one. So how do I follow that? By telling you that this time it feels even more better than ever? I bet you don't really believe me, do you? Those of you who've been wading through the volcanic mire since kingdom come may well be able to cite several instances when I've told you how happy I am, usually in relation to my new man-status. I acknowledge your potential cynicism- indeed, I've got a fair bit myself. I keep thinking "what's the flaw? what's wrong with him?". I don't think he's perfect, and I'd be a bit mental if I thought he was. But... He's just incredibly nice. And kind. And thoughtful and considerate, and possibly the most unselfish and attentive lover that I've ever had. Last night I cooked him lasagne, we drank wine, we watched "Ghost World" and then he did incredible things to me and with me. This time next week, I'll have moved. I am SO scared I'm going to miss him too much. This time next week, all the dream-being-fulfilled stuff will start taking over, and I have no idea what'll happen to us... 11:57 p.m. - 25.08.02 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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