Girl Meets Boy, Girl Wants Girl

The beginning of the semester is an interesting time, there have been so many semester beginnings that the thought of being in a new class with new people is no longer a big fucking deal. This is a stark contrast to the way things were the 13 years prior to university admission. I generally don't give a toss about who is in my class or not in uni because I'm the number one anti-social freak of UWS. This may or may not have to do with the fact that a. I am a bit of a snob and b. I am one of those people that should own a 'fuck you, I have enough friends' shirt. However, as true as those points may be I should probably clarify that I am not averse to talking to people, it's just that I don't need to and therefore don't go out actively seeking friendships. Especially when I'm only there for like four hours a day at the very most.

At this point I'd like to remind you that I am human, therefore flawed, therefore I will quickly put everyone from my classes in their own little boxes just to make life easier for myself. I'm not for labels, boxes, post-it notes or anything of the like but I'd like you to remember that I study economics and finance - that shit is boring - I need to amuse myself somehow.

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It's the first day and I'm one of the first few to walk into the lecture hall. I'm actually looking forward to this class because I've had this lecturer before, she's a wildly eccentric Marxist economist that likes to make fun of the Dean just to spice things up. Not only that but she's a fucking genius and I love fucking geniuses. I've never missed her class and the only other class I can claim that with is when I had a really young lecturer for Financial Institution Management who could solve the most mind numbing differential equations in a split second while sporting skin tight skinny leg jeans and low cut shirts. Seriously. Wow. Seriously. Talk about tangent. So I'm sitting in this lecture and in walks this dude, he's pretty cute, really well dressed and good hair. There was something about him that made me put him in the "arrogant asshole" box, maybe it was the fact that I wanted his shoes. Anyway so on go the classes, every Tuesday we hesitantly shuffle into the class to discuss the government's role in our economies. Last Tuesday I walk into class and when I look up I notice asshole boy smiling, at first I ignored him because I was sure he was either smiling to himself or to someone behind me. On further analysis, however, it was clear that he was smiling to me. I responded with an awkward smile and shifted my gaze to the floor. It turns out he was in my tutorial class as well and had forgotten his readings so asked if he could read mine. At this point I was pretty sure asshole boy was looking for some ass. Today my suspicions were confirmed.

This got me thinking. It is so easy to fall into hetero convenience. Especially when you're in the grotesquely het world that I find myself living in. Every time I'm out with my friends penis is everywhere. It's annoying. Sometimes I think that I should probably get out of my "comfort zone" and meet new people but how fucking random is that? Especially when besides the small difference in sexual preference, my friends and I have everything else in common. Don't get me wrong, my friends are totally 110% open minded and supportive and all that bs but I mean, I dunno, I really dunno what I mean. Everything kind of came from left field, really and it's almost like all this shit "happened" to me and I'm stuck in this weird place now where I need to make shit happen but I don't really know how. Does any of this make sense? Has anyone kept reading to this point? I salute you.

As if penis couldn't be more annoying, there's this other guy that I dated about six years ago. Yeah, six. The only reason we really broke up is because I moved away and I guess he's never really disappeared but now that I am single he seems to be calling more often - international calling, mind you - and has randomly started talking about moving to Australia. Here I am, looking for a girl to fuck around with and here is some douchebag talking about relocation without even once asking me where the hell I stand. This really isn't a big issue beside the fact that it proves my point, if I was a big ol' het living in this big ol' het world shit would be so much easier. The point of the story is that dudes are easy for me and girls are the hardest thing ever but I really, really don't want a dude. Really. So tell me, dear reader, what does one do to repel the peen? Can it ever be repelled? Where the fuck are all the girls? Can somebody please validate my parking ticket?

"So, Uh, What Now?"

I was conversing with a friend online today, she's on exchange in China and she was talking about how much she loves living in another country and how she thinks everyone should do it. At that point it hit me - not everyone has been dragged all over the globe by their self-involved father. Not everyone has moved from continent to continent, leaving everything behind.

It was strange growing up that way. Having to rebuild all those connections, refamiliarising yourself with the new social order. Where do you go for this and what do you think of that? It's really hard to find yourself while growing up. It's even harder trying to do it over and over again. I feel like I had a hundred different childhoods where I was a hundred different children. I can never relate when people say that they've been this or that their whole lives. The only common denominator in the skin I chose for myself was that I always liked to go against the grain.

Now here I am. Stuck in this familiar place. Stuck with these familiar people. Stuck doing these familiar things. Everything is pretty much constant, with a few rare exceptions, and all I can think is:

"So, uh, what now?"

Isn't something supposed to go wrong? Aren't I supposed to just up and leave? Is this stuff supposed to last? Do you mean I actually have to finish what I started? I'm not going to be saved? What do you mean 'I've made my choices'? I didn't know. How was I supposed to know that this time it was for real? That this time the choices I made would actually stay with me. That this time it wasn't all going to blow up in my face.

Maybe it will. Maybe it won't. I don't know. All I know that I'm getting antsy. I'm just waiting for something to go wrong, for someone to leave, to be forced to leave someone. It wouldn't be a stretch to assume that the anticipation of something going wrong is contributing to my inability to take anything seriously. It can all be made totally irrelevant in the matter of minutes.

Life is relative.