More helpful hints from Dave on the seduction of Darkside. The two of them have a lot in common. In order for them to get along with each other eventually, I think I'd have them sit down together with an RPG. They'd have the greatest time, and probably hit it off better with each other than I am with either of them.
Thank the gods that they're both straight, as far as I know.
The SCA out on the green lawns of Encanto Park, college, a friend not eating at any American fast food restaurant, to the point which I said "Argh!" and went online and bought my fussy friend and myself two $10 tickets to Canada and made reservations at a particular burger joint. Making the reservations was hellish -- I got put on hold many, many, many times, and had to be transferred between branches of the place. One central routing number; the place I got was American; I had to be transferred. Takes forever. Asking around about various things. Phone conversation with a friend about membership lists: it seems that after you leave, formally, an organization, you may still wish to be listed as affiliated. Is that "actively affiliated, affiliated, historically affiliated, or name and address removed from the rolls?" I dreamed my bathroom wrong, with the light source coming from higher, lower light level and yellower... lit the countertop better; the main mirror was in shadows. Mirrored medicine cabinet was on the wrong wall: north instead of south. I played with a perfume bottle while I talked. My current favorite "commercial" perfume, exclamation noir, velvety black glass bottle, scent that takes me back to my first college days. I was back in my parents' house, with their downstairs phone. Cord stretching, wrapping, tangling. Conversation about the tickets I got, which popped up in the computer screen like a friend signing on to MSN with the same noise, and I picked them off the screen and put them on the splintering varnished plywood table. Ancient table; table I pounded on when I was five. It was a good deal, they agreed.
Waking, I think: Now if only I could find some $10 tickets to Germany...
Came to school on the "late" side of on time -- fifteen after -- Darkside had been there for five minutes already. I'd seen his car drive past while I was walking. He'd gotten evil bills for school and was trying madly to figure out how much he could pay. He was not happy, and papers cluttered the table.
I read my book for accounting class.
After he emerged from the paper cloud, we discussed my schedule for the morning (7am lab, two sessions of Financial Accounting, an hour off, Econ) and how his was so far superior. I discussed pressure points with his neck. He discussed them back with mine. These days, I find myself saying the sort of outrageous silly thing that will get him to wrap his hands around my neck in jest in order to feel him touching me. We brush knees under the table; the contact, while accidental, is maintained.
I mention that Dave mentioned that if he's ever in the general area, he wants to do a D&D campaign with me and Darkside. Darkside says that this sounds intriguing and fun; what sort of plans did Dave have? I, since the whole D&D thing was total bull (although I know Dave would, as soon as I suggested it to him) said that Dave didn't say; he just snickered evilly. Darkside grinned. I love making Darkside grin like that.
It's starting to be so common that we touch each other that I don't notice it so strongly anymore.
Financial Accounting Lab was ... well. I'd already done what could be done, so I wandered back to the lab where Darkside was. We looked at the usual comic and laughed together ... we got chewed out for disrupting the other students.
My mechanical pencil stabbed me in the arm twice. It looks like I've been doing drugs. It drew blood. The second time, the lead broke off in my arm. Not worried about lead poisoning, because it's graphite (Azz not completely full of head-rocks) but OW. I had Darkside the boy scout extract the piece of offensive matter ... blood all over my arm, all over his hands. Just little drops that smeared... thank gods I have no blood diseases. I ouched about it more than it actually hurt me.
Leaning close to Darkside when he points out something funny online. Taking Dave's advice. Dave tells me very strongly that I am to go after Darkside, since Darkside is local and he is not. Meanwhile, though, we can still have fun...
Ishtar, the little sparrow that Nephew found lying on the ground, mostly unhurt but unable to fly, died either last night or this morning.
Poor little bird.
It happens, though.
Darkside has apparently made a hobby out of getting me to smile.
It's not like it's difficult. I'm one of the more social people that he knows, and I laugh, I smile, I talk. More difficult is to ram some sort of insight through my head, the sort that makes me shut the hell up while I try to get my mind around it, or shut the hell up because I just don't have anything worth speaking of.
But Darkside has decided that he's making a hobby of getting me to smile.
It's not like he told me or anything. But you just know that that's what he's doing, when he says something perfectly outrageous when I've been sober-faced for a minute, and then I crack a grin, and he says, "Oh good, I got you to smile," or "See? You smiled."
And he smiles back at me, this little smirk of absolute delight, and I have to smile back at him, because the world looks entirely different when he's smiling. And then he asks me why I'm suddenly smiling so much, and I make an excuse... I can't, really, in all politeness, tell Darkside that I'm suddenly smiling like a lunatic because he's made me smile, and that's made him smile, and him smiling has made me smile more, because it feels so good to see him happy....
I wonder if he knows that he grins like a lunatic after he's made me smile.
It looks like the apartment is getting one. The one guy from the computer lab stopped by... he's listening to .wavs and giggling.
Social life is fun. Just wish Darkside was here.