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05.21.04 :: 4:55 pm
It all worked out okay, though, because I spent the night with Cemetery Date and he was so much fun and so much alcohol and so much laughter that I didn't care I was being eaten alive by a skin disease. He made breakfast and played me really good music and he sang along as he sorted laundry and we smoked cigarettes and drank coffee and talked and he mouthed the words to this Billy Bragg song that seemed to be about me I swear to God and he's got such an amazing backside, my Christ... At one point, he said, "I can see why guys would get attached to you," and I didn't know what to say to that. I think I just smiled. He said he's looking for a long-term girlfriend. I played cool. Even though I did entertain the thought. We'd make a really rocking pair. But I know better than to do the thing with the eggs in one basket. So I played cool. And in keeping up with my inexplicable urge to make things difficult for myself, I invited him to my party tomorrow night, knowing full well that The Good Lay will be there. Cemetery Date knows about The Good Lay and my plan to phase him out and he's not at all fazed by this. Which instantly makes him infinitely cool, in my book. I don't know. Am I gushing? I feel like I'm gushing. But he's so gushworthy. And every time we hang out I find new things about him that just endear me ... like those latin and greek flashcards by his bedside table... and his staggering and intimidating collection of books... (I think I'm going to start calling him The Professor from here on out because Cemetery Date sounds really creepy.) I don't know. It will most likely, like everything else, end in tears. But the ride down will so definitely be worth it.
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