I couldn't believe tonight. I got home and there's these red roses sitting on my desk. I freaked out wondering who it was, I had these senseless fantasies that I had an admirer. I couldn't find any note or card saying who they were from. I even thought for a moment it might have been Jon, although I couldn't for the life of me figure out why. I definately thought it was something special, from somebody important.
And then I find out it was Bo. What the hell is he playing at? Who the fuck buys a mate a bunch of red roses? It's such a girlfriend/boyfriend thing to do. You don't buy friends roses. That's just fucked up. Bo freaks me out a bit. He used to insist on holding my hand when we were together in his car, he loves cooking for me, he's offered to drive me to mum and dad's place (that's almost a two-hour drive for god's sake), and now it's fucking roses. Everybody who sees Bo and I together seems to agree that he has the hots for me, but he denies it. I really went off at him tonight when I found out the roses were his doing. He said something like, it's no wonder I can't get a boyfriend if I act like this every time someone is nice to me. Very low.
It's such a small thing for me to get so pissed off over. But nobody's ever given me flowers, except for a very small bunch Dave's mum gave to him to give to me. She picked them herself from her garden, it sure as hell wasn't Dave's own doing. 21 years old, 3 serious boyfriends, a few flings, and zero flowers. So I come home to roses and freak out like WOW!!! I threw them out the window when I found out it was just fucking Bo.
It really does freak me out that he seems to think of me so often. Also that seeing some roses makes him think of me, and buy them for me. He wants to see me so often, he hangs around in my apartment even after I make glaringly obvious hints about being tired and wanting to go to bed, he hugs me for just a little too long when we say goodbye. I wish he'd just cool it. Otherwise he's a great guy - pretty smart, good sense of humour, excellent cook, etc. But clingy.
He's probably going to read this. And he'll be pissed off about it. But it is my blog to express myself, and to remind myself months and years down the track, it is my record of my life. I'm not going to censor it just to save somebody's feelings. Feelings recover. Especially when I have the tickets to Billy Thorpe and The Who, both at the end of this month.