Jazz at the Lansdowne

I spent the work day texting back and forth with the Tall South African at various points throughout the day. And then he surprised me by calling at the end of the day just as I was getting ready to leave to go out to a reception at the Lansdowne in the evening. Given that it was the first time he'd called me in over a week, I couldn't resist answering the phone with the greeting, "Hello, stranger..." He chuckled, "Yeah, I've been busy."

And so as annoyed as I was about the fact that he was going to be making me late, I couldn't resist taking the time to talk with him. I hate how hung up I get on him, but I still can't deny the fact that he's amusing and entertaining. Why are girls like this? Why is a smart, intelligent, independent, capable girl like myself turned to total mush by a cute guy who calls me? It's incredibly annoying.

Finally however, after making me a half-hour late, he let me go, and so I dashed off to the Lansdowne. When I arrived, I ran into Curious George at the cloakroom, and we then made our way into the event, which was already in full swing (as I was late, remember?) It was mostly new members who I didn't recognise, and a few familiar faces, although nobody particularly interesting.

Sophie hadn't arrived yet when I got there, although she arrived a bit later. She claimed not to have showered or planned her outfit, but I thought she looked as fabulous as always. She's almost irritatingly gorgeous like that.

I then found myself chatting with Stephanie and Sarah over on the sofa for a bit, and as often happens these days, the conversation turned to the topic of Drunk Girl. Funny how at least we always have something to talk about these days! I told them I would send them a copy of the letter I sent the Club Secretary in the morning, and we just had a fun time exchanging general chatter about the declining dress standards (there was a girl wearing jeans present that evening, although apparently she'd already been lectured about it a few times), and well, the awful dress sense of Drunk Girl herself.

I was tired of sitting apart from people (I prefer to be up and socializing at these types of events), so got up and went over to talk to Sophie. She expressed her disappointment that Witty Windsor Boy wasn't there, and told me that she hasn't heard from him in 2.5 weeks. Admittedly he'd been skiing for some of this time, but internally I was thinking what I had originally been assuming, that Witty Windsor Boy didn't quite return the crush that Sophie had on him. But given that I'd just experienced this with the Tall South African, I assured her that sometimes the explanation could be as simple as that the boy didn't know what to say. So I suggested she give him an opening to see if he took it.

I hated actually telling Sophie about the Tall South African, but it seemed like the only way at the time to cheer her up. Upon realising who I was referring to as the Tall South African (since she has met him), Sophie exclaimed, "Good work, my dear! That boy is incredibly hot!" Which I found weirdly insulting, because while I know that the Tall South African is generally perceived to be quite handsome, that's actually one of his most irritating features, in my opinion! Because, of course what gives him his massive ego is the fact that he knows he's good-looking and that women find him attractive. I was incredibly suspicious of him at first for exactly that reason. And sure, I can't deny that part of my attraction to him is based on that as well, but I like to think it's actually been the surprising discovery of how much I like laughing and joking around with him, our actual personalities and how well they mesh, that makes this all work. So, why on earth is it a compliment to me to note that I've managed to catch the attention of a good-looking guy? Who is incredibly arrogant, egotistical, and a total man-whore as well! And yet, who gets a total pass in life because he's handsome. And I'm supposed to take it as some sort of compliment, that a good-looking guy pays attention to me? Augh!

For the millionth time, I resolve to focus on meeting new, more appropriate boys. The Tall South African is just not a good choice. But it's not like any better options are there this evening, so once the band has stopped playing, I made my apologies to Sophie and begged off. She pleaded with me to stay and even complimented my stockings (they were very retro-style with seams up the back, which everybody loves), but despite that it was only 10:30 PM, I was tired and wanted to go home.

As I went home, I shot a quick text to the Tall South African, telling him about Sophie and the stockings, to which I got the response, "I hav had a few bevvies myself still out should head home soon tho or will regret it in the morning u and your stockings lol quite the tease ;) x" Glad to know I can still get a rise out of him sometimes...

When I got home, I caught my brother online, and so got a chance to chat with my niece on Skype. She says so much now! It's amazing! And she keeps imitating me when I say "Jesus!" Ooops, I need to start watching what I say... Finally was off to bed, with an personal resolution to be more careful about my language!