If I were a Betting Man

If I were a betting man, I'd have bet Ratzinger for new poke (as my brothers call him), and I wouldn't wear frilly knickers. But niether a better nor a man be, so I didn't.

What kind of Church in this day and age votes for a Cardinal that is a misogynist? In this time of AIDS epidemics and equal rights, how can they justify a poke who doesn't advocate safe sex, or that women are people too? A poke that has spent much of his life behind doors, and one that stands to alienate vast tracts of his own establishment?

Brazil is, as I understand it, the proud owner of the biggest catholic church in the world. The people of Brazil for many years have said they'd love to hear a pope who promoted safe sex and allowed the use of condoms as an extension of a woman's right not to bear a child, and they were even hoping that women could take a more active role in church. Are these people going to accept the new pope unconditionally? I hope not.

For the record I am not Christian, and I intend no insult to anyone except the poke and the eejits who elected him.

How long before I run off again?

My weekend was the usual shambolic irresponsible affair it has become. On Friday I went with Piscin to visit my mother, where we proceeded to drown ourselves in wine, salad, chicken kievs and pizza. My mother and Piscin genuinely get on, and my mother kept telling me, over and over, how she thought it was better I was going travelling with Piscin than Ebony.

We went down to the local then to meet Ebony, whom we hadn't seen in ages. She has booked the same TEFL course as Piscin and wants to go travelling again also. She mentioned this to me as she gave me the copy of her photos from South America, and I mentioned that she was of course welcome to visit us in Spain, but I didn't invite her to join us. I don't like travelling with a lot of people, or going out in that manner, for that matter. So I hope she didn't mind too much. As usual she was late, and as usual, I had to open my big mouth and make a point of saying it. I think I was a bit ratty.

We left at 11.25pm because I wanted to catch the bus into town to go dancing. It was icy cold and by the time we reached town I felt a bit travel sick and my kidneys were cold. We decided to head up to the Fairground bar instead and just hang out there. It was absolutely black with people, and there were a lot of people celebrating flat-moving, as they would come up and tell us all night. I was still a bit crabby, but Piscin was in flying form, and got chatting to a lovely fella. I just kind of stood there.

I like the darkly glowing green walls in the Fairground. I feel safe. I spot the spanish boy I met a few weeks ago, but I've no desire to talk to him. Besides, my view has just been eclipsed by a 6"3 fair giant with cheekbones that you could sharpen a knife with. He is from Monaco he tells me, and saw me on my way in. I nod and politely disbelieve everything he tells me. Afterall, he doesn't believe me when I say I'm 25 and work for the owners. But he is very likeable, if slightly shifty. In the french sense. Piscin comes over to check him out, and apparently satisfied, heads off to her friends. I hope she isn't feeling abandoned. Monaco tells me he would like a kiss. I say no, because I have not yet put the whole thing with Spideog to rest. Well, of course, the wild side of me likes someone who is a bit difficult and risky, and dark-eyed Monaco tells me he is impatient and won't wait. I tell him to chat up someone else then. He is displeased at my flippancy and tells me to cut out the messing. I like this guy. I give him a peck on the cheek and tell him that if he wants to see me again, that is fine, but right now I have no desire to kiss him in a place where Spideog might come in any second. I tell him this, and explain it is not fair of me not to clean up the situation first. I would hate someone to mess me around, and I've no intention of doing it.

Piscin comes over for a minute, and Monaco skulks off, as a friend is supposedly trying to find his way in. Piscin reassures me that she is having a great time. Then she says "If you like him, why wait? You'd be stupid not to take the chance! Besides, you're not doing anything wrong." That reminds me that a) I'm not dating Spideog, b)I don't owe him anything, c)I've always believed in being spontanious, and here I am being careful, d)Piscin is brilliant, and right. She can see I'm still uncertain, and says to me "Don't worry - he'll be back. I can see you two really like each other." Well that surprises me, because normally people can't tell if I like someone. But, hey, what do I know! Upon which she disappears, and he returns. Still asking for a kiss. Which eventually he just takes (sorry ladies, I like a bit of rough-handling occasionally, and do no good for feminism). But after a second I pull out and then say no. I don't like this. Either he meets me again, or else we leave it be. He glowers, takes my number, and promises to call between 11 and 12 in the morning. Then he leaves.

It has been a long time since I have been in a situation where I have waited for someone to call me, and the prospect doesn't exactly fill me with glee. All my worries feed off of this sort of situation. Piscin and I have a great rest of the night, and I introduce myself to her friend as "the stupid friend who can't unfreeze herself and needs Piscin to do the dirty work". Honestly, I'm like a child. We wobble home, via the chipper of course, and Piscin keeps telling me how great I am. Me, who unceremoniously dumped her cos I was being chatted up by some mad stranger! She is made of gold, that one. I try and tell her, but she is having none of it.

Saturday morning I wake up early of course, and I just know I will be waiting for that stupid phone call. I do some laundry and try and keep busy, and sure enough, 12 o'clock comes and no call. I send Piscin a text (as I'd promised) telling her what a dork I was, and then suddenly I get a text. From Septic. My other band mate. He was coming over to record the violin for one track, and vocal for a different one. I was delighted. I started getting ready, and my phone rang. It is Monaco, with his almost Slavic voice deep in my ear. I told him I didn't think he'd call. He told me he'd said he would, he just slept in a bit. Well of course, not everyone survives on 5/6 hours sleep like I do. I explained that I'd arranged to do something else and couldn't meet him. I'd call him tomorrow. Delighted, I texted Piscin, who said she'd known he wasn't "an unreliable plop", and was happy for me. I'm so easily amused.

Septic and I recorded the tracks successfully, and then Gwen came and we rehearsed for Thursday, and got really stoned. I had to be in work for 8, and it was deadly quite at first. Seventeen was on as well, and binned as well. Spideog was sat there, smiling. I cursed myself for caring, and for still finding him attractive. But I know what I have to do. I tell him I want to just knock everything one the head. He asks me why. There is no point saying I'm interested in someone else, because the reality is that I wouldn't be if it weren't for the fact I rarely heard from him. I tell him the truth, which is that I needed more attention from him, and didn't like worrying or feeling insecure. I have no interest in being with someone who is so guarded about themselves and won't let me in, even a little bit. I need more attention. He nods. Fair enough, he says, but in my defense, you never gave me a chance.

Well, he is right of course. But he never took a chance. He hits his chest with an outwardly turned hand. "You hurt me" he says, or rather, lets slip out. But he is determined not to give. He goes home early for the first time in ages, and I send him a text message apologising, but firmly stating that I have to do what is best for me now. Only I'm a bit nicer about it. He replies that he is not upset, but that I never gave him a chance. I don't think I can reply to that.

That night is mad at work, because at first it is empty, and later it is jammed, and we serve well-over the hour. Some guy throws plastic shot glasses at me, but Seventeen has him removed like a shot. I get given out to by the doormen for not calling them sooner, as the guy has started a fight outside and is obviously rowdy. But they are a horrible crowd - there were others I'd refused to serve because they gave me abuse. At the end of the night I was glad to sit down and have a beer. And guess who called? Monaco. To see how and where I was. My oh-oh radar was bleeping.

I awoke on Sunday to a glorious day full of sunshine, and went to the city park to meet Monaco. I was late and he was early, but in fairness he was gracious about it, despite it being fucking freezing outside. We walked around and chatted and did all the soppy stuff like kissing by the duckpond until 6pm. Apparently I am sweet when I want to be, and I have eyes like his dog. I told him that he sure knows how to compliment a woman, and that he reminds me of my grandad (he does not, but I thought it was funny). The poor man was hungover to fuck, but I'd a great time. He made me laugh, despite complaining about everything he could find. I told him all he'd done was moan, and he laughed and made no excuses. I like that. When leaving, he asked could he see me again, and then misinterpreted my reply and said "Of course I want to." I didn't correct him, and suggested Tuesday or Friday, although it looks like I may have to rehearse on Tuesday, and record the radio on Friday. But I'm sure I'll manage. He told me I was lucky he'd waited, as usually he is very impatient. I said he was lucky he was so arrogant because I wasn't going to say anything nice in reply to that. He grins when I laugh at his arrogance. I went home and crawled into bed because the cold had given me a horrible kidney infection. I got a final text from Monaco before I fell asleep, until this morning.

I feel like I am really stoned, but at least I've more or less stopped passing blood. I needed that sleep. I wonder if I am playing with fire, but I don't care, which is a place I like to be. Or rather, I care, but I go in at least with my eyes open.

Take a Load of Brandy

By now you probably realise the pattern of my Monday nights. Well this one was no exception. I got a call at 8 that there was a slot free in the Cosmopolitan Bar, and myself and Gwen went down to play a set. On the way, walking through the neighborhood that I grew up in, I hear my name called. He is far away, but I'd recognise his voice anywhere, and it seems he would recognise me anywhere. Apollo. Stupid grins on both our faces, which are as always hard to hide. Embarrassed all the more because Gwen is there. He knows the score though, and they have met once before, the last relapse I had with Apollo.

Apollo tugs at his hat and says "Look - it's the hat you made me." It's nice of him to point it out but I'd noticed. He's out for a walk (he is the most antsy person I know) and will walk to the bar with us. But he will have to go home then cos he left the heating on, and he'll get into trouble. That's a sad state of affairs, I tease, if you get into trouble for that. He blushes and says he doesn't mean get into trouble but... I walk on pleased that I am not the woman who is putting him under such silly constraints. I am also pleased that I look nice this evening.

Once we reach the pub, Apollo decides to come in for a pint anyhow. I was determined not to drink but he twists my rubber arm, and buys me a pint. Soon we have three drunk each, and he and Gwen are deep in conversation about sexual needs, music, and upbringing in the States (they are both American). I am happy for once to be silent, completely content because I am sat between two of my favourite people on this planet, whom I love deeply, and they have mutual respect for each other and me, but are only really meeting intellectually for the first time. Apollo keeps complimenting me, subtly, but I pick it up. I feel a rush of relief - this love I carry is reciprocated, albeit in a fucked-up fashion, and I am not being arrogant in thinking it. For whatever reason the man can't live with me, and now, finally, it is his loss. I love him for letting me know that too. He knows, and blushes, but all I did was smile at him.

It is time for me to play my set, and without realising it, I start on Good Girl. Fuck...I wrote this song about the last time I saw him. Now I have to sing it to him, and he will know it's about him. I hope he doesn't feel uncomfortable - I've had people sing songs at me and it's hard. But no, he is rivetted, and Gwen is great on harmony and accompanying guitar. Then I play I'm Home, which is about me finding a place for myself wherever I am in the world, and making it my spacem followed by Wednesday's Child. Gwen then plays We Can Work It Out, Mrs Robinson, and the Spain, which is his song. Apollo whoops and claps and sings along. He has not changed that much.

Afterwards, he tells me that although he always liked my songs, he feels I should just go for it 100% now because I have the performance down pat. I am relieved he wasn't uncomfortable at the first song, although I don't say it. I am pleased at his compliment and earnest support, when, as usual, he realises exactly what I need support in, and supplies it. We have a little conversation about his hair, which he has recently cut, and I am amused by it. I like your hair better kind of short, I tell him. He looks in genuine amazement at me and blurts out "But I thought you prefered it long! You told me to grow it!" I told you to grow it because you wanted to grow it and were worried about how it would look! I retort equally indignantly! Then we laugh, and I repeat it again, softly this time. He nods as though he were stupid not to have realised it for himself. What's interesting is that he too has only just cut his hair, and he kept it long up until now...

At the end of the gig we have a bit of a session with Gwen and Apollo complimenting each other on their guitar and musical skills. They keep choosing to play songs that I knwo for a fact they both love to play, which cements their relationship further. Everytime one goes to the bathroom, I get a tirade of "God, he's lovely, blah blah blah" until whoever "he" is, returns. When we leave, I can see Apollo is unsure of whether to come with us to the Middle Ground. I want him to, but I also know he'll feel uncomfortable, and that he is already worried about us getting on so well. I give him a hug and tell him "I suppose you're going home now", to which he firmly decides he will, and we walk to the end of the road and seperate. I thank him for the pints and company, and watch him leave.

Me and Gwen are binned now, and we never meant to get this bad. The MiddleGround is like it's waiting for us, and Crow is glad to see us, and sticks us up for 4 tunes. I have a great time, and people stamp and laugh along to our set, which is very nice. Duff is nowhere to be seen, but someone else is. Peach, the boy with the green eyes, who I have only ever met about 7 times since 1995 when I dated his friend. He is sat on his own, and I join him. Another green-eyed person I adore for no real reason. We have a great chat about people and music and the way we think (similarly, it seems) on a great many things including being honest. We also dicuss how people see us as different to how we see ourselves. Gwen and I laugh and point at each other as usual also, and by the time we leave we are on for another drink but it is 3.30 and everywhere is shut. As usual the bouncer is an asshole to me : they flash the lights to indicate last drinks, but don't give you drink up time, which they are required to do. We had just bought drinks, and they yelled at everyone to leave, so I promised I would but asked for 5 minutes, yell-free, in which to finish my drink. As usual, they yelled at me, not any of the lads, and finally said yeah ok. But Peach was furious on my behalf, because apparently the bouncer then took him by the arm and told him to make sure to get me out of there, saying I was troublesome.

I have never caused trouble there, and the guy has a big problem with me. I was furious. I know the reason now too. Last week, after a similar incident, he said to my face that I caused trouble. I retorted angrily that I had never caused trouble(it's true), and that I reckon he has a sexual problem with me. He grinned, and I made as if to kiss and make up. Then I pulled back, and laughed. He was not amused. It was not nice of me, I agree, but I am not nice when pissed off and drunk as well. And this guy manhandles me always as well...I've made a complaint about him before, but I am thinking about doing it again.

In any case, I decided we were going to Friends, a member's bar round the corner, so Peach and Gwen and I went to try and get more drinks (I know - we're desperate!). At the door, I explained that we had been doing a gig at the Middle Ground, and had been told by Hatefulbouncer that we could get drinks here (he said no such thing of course). Your man at the door looked at me in amusement (I've done this before) and sighed dramatically before going "Alright. Get in. But leave the guitars in the clookroom or downstairs." I smiled as warmly as I could (and probably slightly cross-eyed as we were already mouldy), and we went inside. And drank. Until about 5am. Then Gwen NEEDED to go home, and NEEDED to walk on his own, and well, I get like that too, so I hugged him and let him go despite the fact we live in the same building. Peach and I chatted and laughed some more and then left. He lives down the road from me a good bit, so we decided to get a taxi together. But I rarely get taxis, and it was a nice night, and anyway I suspected I'd no money, so we started walking. I can honestly say I would not have made it home if he had not walked me. I would have happily slept in a gutter, I was that stocious. But my pride refused to let me do that while in company, and I think that's why he left me home, before carrying on on his own.

Highly Hilarious

It was Spideog's birthday on Saturday April 2nd. I texted him on Friday night to wish him a happy birthday, but it turned out he was having a rotten time. As usual, he wouldn't elaborate and I didn't bother pushing him because I figure he'd tell me if he wants to. But it seemed clear that the humming and hawing was not lessening on his part, and to be honest, apart from the fact that he is genuinely a nice person, I am not interested. Especially as I can't imagine us in the future.

I was sick over the weekend, and so I was sleeping fitfully in between bouts of fever and elation. At 11pm I received a phone call. It was Apollo. "Where are you?" In bed, sick, at home, having a laugh and playing with my cat. "Oh." He sounds a bit sad and lonely, and I know he's in a pub wondering if I will go for a drink. But almost as quickly, he realises he's at a disadvange, and pulls back. We chat a bit, and I tell him I'm off to Spain in May. It is the excuse he needs to justify seeing me, without worrying about either of our motives. He lets slip "Oh, I'll have to see you before then!" and I can hear him kicking himself. How are you Apollo. "Oh fine...you know." I can hear it, alright. But rather than dwell on it, I decide to quit while I'm ahead. Call me when you want to meet, and have a good night, I tell him. He barely has time to say goodbye before I hang up. Yes, I hang up first, and yes, I told him about Spain deliberately. Why? Because I love this man and I can feel him beating himself up for being weak and calling me, and if I am slightly flippant and say I am going away, he worries less about everything.

Then, at 4.30 am I receive a telephone call, which I stupidly answer.

"Greenglass?"
Yes
"It's Spideog"
Hi. Where are you?
"I'm at a party, on the Northside. Can I stay in your house tonight?"
Eh ok. You know I'm really sick at the minute?
"I don't care. I just want to stay with you."
How're you going to get here?
"Taxi. Can you wait for me on your street corner in 20 minutes?"

I know what you're thinking, but no, it wasn't an April Fool's joke. It was even better. I got into my coat, and wearing my red pyjamas I went outside and waited. A taxi pulled up. "Howiye Red Riding Hood!" shouted the driver delightedly, refering no doubt to my red santa claus pyjamas. And out steps......no, not Spideog. Out steps Duff, who if you recall, has the same name as Spideog, is from the same area, and is the same age, but has never called me outside of our Monday meetings in the MiddleGround. Oh mother of god!

"Bet you didn't expect to see me tonight," he grins cockily. Eh no, no I definitely didn't. "I'm a bit high," he confides to me. "And I thought - who would I like to spend time with you- and I decided to cut all the bullshit and just call you!" Oh, I reply weakly. He tries to kiss me but I don't respond, and I need to get indoors cos I'm freezing and still sick.

Of course I have to tell him - I thought you were a someone else. "How many Duff's do you know?" he asks, amazed. A few, I reply. And I have been kind of seeing one of them, and well, it being his birthday and all, I didn't think it that weird that he would call me from a party and announce that he wanted to come over. Then with shock I thought, oh god, what if he calls too?! I switched off my phone hurridly, just in case. Duff asked me did I want him to leave? No, he was welcome to stay, but I was not sleeping with him or kissing him.

The next minute, he has his clothes off and is cavorting around the room, bollock-naked. I laughed. "Bet you didn't ever imagine I'd be in your room, bollock-naked, doing this!"he announces proudly. I agree. But I'm still not sleeping with him, despite being flattered by the attention. Why not? he wants to know. Because he has a girlfriend who is travelling, and whom they have agreed can do whatever she likes but when she comes home they are going-to-be-together-forever type thing, and I don't see the point of bothering if that's all there is. Because I don't intend to sleep with someone first time they come to my house. Because I don't intend to sleep with someone who the first time is on drugs, and even now I am wary of him. And because I am not comfortable with the idea right now.

In fairness to him, we have a grand auld chat, and when safely ensconsed back in his boxers, we just talk about this that and the other, and have a laugh. He is very funny. But I have to know. "Did you come here because I flattered you and you wanted a shag or because people think I am easy?" I ask, somewhat more subtely than that. He very decently explains to me, and apologises while being honest, that though he was attracted to me before I said he was goodlooking, that he thought naively that I would be dying to get my hands on him also, and that's why he came over. He didn't think I was easy, nor had he heard it from anyone, but he had not considered that I might view things differently (being a woman, he said) and not need desperately to hop his bones. He had the decency to be embarrassed about it. And said if I was up for a one-off before the girlfriend returned to let him know. I declined.

At 7am I announced I needed to sleep, and he hopped up and said "Right, well, thanks - I'm off!" I let him out and at the front door he said:"I'm going to thank you for this on Monday amn't I?" I don't know, I replied. "It's a funny way to cement a friendship,"he grinned, "but we are friends." I laughed and agreed, and then gave hima gentle boot down the steps before returning to bed.

I had to work on Saturday night despite my fever, but I laughed really hard with Fairy about it. Duff sent me a few text messages excusing his behaviour and apologising. I said not to worry, but I wonder about the profusity of messages.