I wore a stained hoodie, sequined top, leggings and odd pull up socks to the gym today.
Even for me, today was a particularly bad day.
The thing is, I’m an angry gym-goer. As soon as I swipe my card at the gym, it’s as if I undergo a Dr. Jekyll-to- Hyde-eque transformation.
Suddenly, I’m overcome with rage, rage at the stairs that I have to climb to get to the lockers, rage at the lockers that I have to use to put my gym bag, rage at the doors that I have to pull open to get to the workout room, rage at the buttons on the machines that I have to press to set my workout. But most of all, rage at the fact that I have to work out at the gym to look good. Rage is the only thing that keeps going at the gym.
Thus it’s no wonder that I come and go in an odd assortment of gym attire that appears utterly strange and obnoxious.
The worst thing about having to date someone else is that most people have the tendency to use ordinary pet names like baby/babe, honey/hun, darling.
Buff Guy shared my disdain for pet names, especially those of the more commonly used variety.
It’s not that we didn’t use pet names, we just made our own. Ridiculous, saccharine, and nauseating creations such as pookiepie, sugarplum, and spunkybite.
His plane is scheduled to leave in the early afternoon. All morning, I’d kept myself busy so that I didn’t have to think about him leaving.
Finally, he texts me: I thought I’d say farewell.
Almost instantaneously, like a nervous actress finally receiving her cue, I reply: Have a fantastic time!
To which he retorts: I shall, you try and stay out of trouble.
Later, he admits that it was only wishful thinking on his part.
Thailand! Fucking Thailand. Buff Guy is fucking going to fucking Thailand.
To put it mildly, I am livid. No tears, no hurt feelings, just pure rage.
He once explained to me that that he simply did not really see the need to travel overseas.
Now I discover that he is going to Thailand.
Conveniently, he is leaving for Thailand six days after I arrive back in the country. Talk about suspicious timing. Even if I did want to harass him, I’d give it at least a week. Surely there is no need for him to run away from me so quickly.
Of all the places he could have run away to, he chooses fucking Thailand. It is the one destination for which I have excessively and extravagantly expressed my distaste for.
To top it all off, he left it up to me to attempt a not-so-subtle allusion to this trip when we both knew that I had discovered his travel plans in our shared calendars. He had the fucking nerve to let me tackle the proverbial elephant in the room (albeit it being a virtual chatroom).
Anyway, we have agreed to meet for lunch two days before his scheduled departure for Thailand. This is sure to be an utmost interesting affair.