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2005-01-27 @ 12:17 a.m.
why do I always want what I can't have?

Damn, damn, damn. I just looked at my horoscope for today -- ten minutes before midnight and it said:
There's someone special in your life, and they're about to let you know that they feel the same way about you. Don't expect to be in bed early. You've got a lot of catching up to do.

Argghhh! Who is this person? And will they be ringing my doorbell in the next 9.5 minutes? I'm pretty sure I could stay up a little while longer. I may have "A"s group in the morning, but if someone that special wants to talk to me, hell, I'll even go out in the yard in zero degree weather and make naked snow angels with them if they want.

Really the only conversation I had with anyone today of consequence was Charlemagne the Obnoxious French Guy in my art class tonight. And it was rather ironic, because he was the subject of a rather substantial segment of my appointment with "A" on Tuesday.

"A" really wants me to have sex, because I am, shall we say, pretty much out of control from NOT having it. And he personally knows Charlemagne and he knows that I have a minor sweet spot for him, even though he is obnoxious and has an overwhelmingly overwhelming personality. "A" thought it would be good for me to maybe do the wild thang with Charlemagne just so I could have a place to sow my wild oats, although technically, I think it might be the other way around. And from what I've heard, "C" is pretty much a womanizer and would be more than happy to "service" the witty, and "A" knows this, and I know this and most of the Northern Hemisphere knows this. So I was having this deep discussion with my crazy shrink Tuesday, about how wrong it would be to just "use" a person for sex. Because I rather like knowing and liking the owner of the penis before using it for carnal pleasure. And I had to keep reiterating this to "A" because I'm not able to just have (cough) random sex, because I'm NOT A GUY. Capeche? But it did take about 4 or 5 times of saying "I'm not a guy" before "A" finally stopped using that line of "reasoning".

So I went to my art class tonight, and missed out of my usual seating. damn. See, ya miss one week of class and some college chick grabs your space. So I had to sit on the other side of the room. But it didn't really matter because tonight was supposedly "Australia Night with Ace", and I had been excited about it all day, wondering what that would entail. An Aborigine with painted body parts? That cute Aussie guy I've secretly been checking out for the last month, holding his wattle. With a name like "Ace" I figured it had to be a guy, right? Ace the Aussie Assman. Awesome.

So I bought my new book of tickets from our Fearless Art Leader, but he seemed unnaturally grumpy. I later found out, he was supposed to have the night off, but "K", my second potential art class husband forgot to show up to host the evening, so "I" had to come in unexpectedly. He barely even acknowledged me. I guess he was just upset about "K".

I got situated on the other side of the room. It really felt backwards, since I usually sit on the left side, but at least I got an art table. And then at last...the Big Moment. Ace the Australian Model....drum roll, please!!

Fuck. It was just one of the boring, skinny chick models who rotate through about every three months. And this is one of the less interesting models too. As in one of the models dropped over from the set of "New York CSI". As in totally inert. And she's very, very hairy. Major arm pit hair-a-mundo. When I was later talking to "L" the hippy chick about my utter and severe disappointment in Ace being a girl, she told me that "ACE" was the model's androgynous name.


Even with a pair of aces,
she made me want to fold

So Charlemagne did come in late to the class. Unfortunately there were no seats near me, so he sat half way across the room. But when he walked by he touched my shoulder and said "Hi". And then after the first pose I went into the bathroom to wash the pastel dust off my hand and he was immediately in there needing to use the sink. And then when I went to the snack table at the break, he was incredibly nice and asked how I was doing?

Huh? This is usually the guy, yacking his head off, just to hear the sound of his own voice, and flirting with girls and making time with the model. I had told "A" how crazy and obnoxious he was, and now strangely he was very quiet and gentlemanly. Hmmm. I asked him about a goatee he had grown since last week and he said it was a diversion from the hair he was losing on top of his head. And to be honest, I never even noticed he was losing any hair. Practically every man I know (Married Guy, "A") has hair loss, so its really no biggie. I mean when you're in your forties, its almost inevitable. So when I asked him about his goatee, he suddenly admitted the strangest thing. He said he was only growing it because Satina was in California and when she got home, he would shave it off. And I was like "Satina?" And he said "Oh, she's the love of my life."


So, strangely, my heart sank slightly. Not really sure why. Especially after the vehement argument I had put up in "A"s office on Tuesday about how crazy and obnoxious Charlemagne was and how I would never consider doing anything with him.

I then went back to my art desk and we did the last hour pose. I was fairly bored. The Professional Artist Guy had showed up late like he always does. He sat one table over and said hi to me. I wanted to ask him what he thought about the animated film that he worked on getting an Academy Award nomination, but as usual, I was too damn shy.

Charlemagne was put in charge of timing the model and keeping track of how much longer we had to draw, so I had to keep looking back at him. And then I got the weirdest idea. "A" knows that I am hopelessly attracted to Married Men and men who are involved. Its a sickness I have. What if he told Charlemagne to tell me about his Lady love, just so that I thought he wasn't available, that way, I would go all out, trying to pursue him.

Heh, yeah, I know its nutty as hell, but there is that old thing called reverse psychology and "A" is so incredibly devious in his efforts to get me hooked up with someone and get a penis into my life (or whatever), that he might just think of something like that.

So after class, I once again chatted with Charlemagne. We got trapped in the cloakroom together and then I teased him about folding his table correctly when he was talking to someone else. I think he likes to get teased and I'm very good at that. And next week Charlemagne will be hosting the art class on his own. And that should be interesting. And that will give me a chance to make his life a living hell.

heh, heh.

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Lyrics by Lennon/McCartney. All angst copyright by awittykitty