Just a matter of hours now until I get my plane. I have done all the shopping I want to do, and I am bloated and full of fucking carbs; beigels, tortillas, brownies, hamburgers. Last night, Ladyfriend and I went out for a Mexican, which was quite pleasant. She was in a wonderful mood, almost glowing, chipper and squeaking just as I remember her best when she'd visit me in London.
Outside, there was a Nor'Easter. In layman's terms, really shit weather. The day began with strong winds and fierce rain, and it didn't stop for about 18 hours; a relentless, constant, powerful deluge of near horizontal wetness drilling into skulls and seeping through clothes. When we left the restaurant, the pavements were like rivers - stepping into the road to cross over it was to submerge your foot into a raging, ankle-high stream. And I won't even get started on the effort it took to hang on to my umbrella.
Once again, as I haven't ceased to mention, it is apparently boiling in Britain. I simply can't fathom the concept under these circumstances. Almost every American I meet, I've told them the current temperature in London.
At Ladyfriend's apartment, I hung my jeans and coat up to dry, and we watched Babel (If you have ever expressed a desire to watch this film, don't, unless you have been toying with the idea of suicide recently and need that extra shove into the noose.) After that, we watched La Petite Jerusalem, a film about Orthodox Jews in Paris. And yes, there were sex scenes aplenty, and plenty a' nudity. Despite the subject matter. The French could remake Happy Feet as a live action feature, and they'd somehow crowbar existential angst and violent double penetration shots into a story about dancing penguins.
After our miserable fest of film, Ladyfriend and I retired to bed. I told her I will be sleeping on the couch. She told me not to be so silly. We had been cuddling up watching TV and finally, I thought, she still cares about me. Maybe we won't have sex, but we might finally bond for once and, perchance, be slightly intimate, if only for a minute or two.
Monday morning. I am flying home this evening. Ladyfriend is the happiest yet, despite the rain outside, despite the fact that it's a Monday morning, and Ladyfriend has repeatedly told me how much of a morning person she isn't. I take her buoyancy and cheerfulness as a roundabout Hurry Up and Fuck Off, so when she's about to leave for work and reaches in to kiss me on my cheek, I thrust her my outstreched hand instead, saying 'Put it there, Ladyfriend.'
Without a word, she shakes my hand and leaves. Guilt has now consumed me from the Nor'East as black clouds hover above me, unleashing a torrent of Shameshit on my head.
I am scum.
I leave the apartment. I buy an amazing pair of size 14 sneakers that would cost me three times as much in the UK, and be five times harder to find. I purchase the Chris Rock Show on DVD. I toy with the idea of buying The Critic on DVD, as well as countless other movies and shows I hadn't yet thought I needed. I track down Jeff and take him to lunch (I had actually arranged to go out with him tonight - he'd planned a few bars and a strip club - until I realised I am flying home and had to cancel. As a married man, he was NOT THRILLED with this plan being shelved.)
I went back to a Spanish Israeli discount store I visited a few days back, for more cheap clothes. This time I was pleased to see a really, really intriguingly sexy Latino redhead with a quite remarkable body which incorporated the most voluptuous backside despite her petite frame. Plus she had that 'How jou doin?' Rosie Perez accent we never hear in England and I wanted to have sex with her if she'd let me.
(Although I do look like the antichrist because I gave myself such an enthusiastic shave on Saturday that I accidentally carved a mathematical symbol into my chin that didn't stop bleeding for an hour.)
I now have three hours left. Ladyfriend has called from work to check up on me. Maybe she appreciates the possibility that we'll never see each other again, and is keeping things sweet. I don't even know where things stand between us, but I'd say it's somewhere between indifference and closure.
Right - I'm going to pack.