16 June 2009

T13. What a fabulous weekend!

What a fabulous weekend! T and R are chums again. D is 'falling in love' with Jessica; man, those sparks are flying. He’s gagging to get hold of her phone number. T is going to dump J. There’s ‘no spark’. Looks like her ’17 weeker’. M has been talking about dumping C. 15 years down the pan. I’ve been propositioned by A and don’t know what the fuck to do with that expression of feeling. I can just about handle the plethora of all the other revelations but that one has left me speechless.

It all began the moment we were setting up the gig in Herne Bay. M had, as usual, forgotten something (two leads) and made his leave to pop back to Whitstable to pick them up. I was lamenting, as usual, about how whenever we do some thing together, like a gig, it always ends up as a rough draft for a Laurel and Hardy sketch. As he left I spot Jessica and Esther sitting on the sofas. I was real glad to see them over from the Bubble. Thought J was here for M but she was just here for the party. Later, when I introduced her to D, as you do, she goes ‘are you single?’ and he goes ‘yeah’ there was no stopping them. At the after party at Charlie's it was eye contact, back rubs the full shebang. It was only because Esther was a bit tired and needed to go home that I offered her a lift. Of course J had to go home with her too. D was on to me all Sunday down the beach and at the Ben’s Ego gig at the Wall Tavern for J’s number. I said I had it but I didn’t. Said I couldn’t possibly give her number out with out permission. The saga continues at the Smack on Saturday.

Ben’s Ego gig at the Wall Tavern on Sunday night I got R one side of me and T the other. Both good friends. Once. Spoilt by sleeping with R’s ex, D.

Yep, that D.

I ask T Face if she and R had had a little chat. ‘Well’ she says, ‘I'm not going to say anything’. And I said ‘that’s what R’s said too. Looks like stalemate.’ ‘Guess it does’, she replies. Much later, 1am ish, we’re all still up because we’ve been going for it, but we’re all in our own houses, but texting and phoning each other. I phone R who tells me T pulled her up outside the toilets in the pub and apologised for her ‘behaviour’ and proceeded to explain to R the circumstances of her encounter with D. R, being the good natured soul that she is, forgave her indiscretion on the spot (after all it’s only a man, darling) and that was that. 4 months of no speaking; over.

I'm ever so glad they’re chums again and would humbly accept a small, yet discreet walk on part, in the rebuilding of their friendship. However long it now lasts. Which, if it can survive something like that, shows true strength and fortitude. Lucky buggers.

T was also the centre of another storm tonight. After her trip abroad to Marrakech with J she has decided that ‘there is no spark there’ and I suggested that I agree with her assessment that it would be better to let the poor dear know now rather than later as she mentioned that he was beginning to form somewhat of an attachment to her. Sad I know. I’ve been there myself. When you’re looking for your prince, as T so obviously is, you got to kiss a few frogs. Ribbett!

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