I met Chris for drinks in the middle of the afternoon today, after leaving Dr. Seuss. He had wanted to book my entire afternoon for an illicit sojourn, but Chris had come down specially to see me and I couldn’t disappoint him, regardless of whether he really wanted to do the whole paying for company thing. I had gotten my test results from the Gyne earlier on in the day, and they were all pleasingly negative. I was insanely relieved, but at the same time annoyed over the fact that the doctors had insisted I take some nasty antibiotics because they thought I’d an infection.
I did actually, but it was not an STD and a regular pessary solved it in a night in no time. And anyway, if I did have something (God forbid), I’d rather wait for my body to heal itself then take anything nasty they’d prescribe. I develop very horrid side-effects. Side effects that are so bad I’m sure they are worse then the diseases the medicine was supposed to cure.
He asked me if I’d like to go shopping for a camera with him, and we’d gone to one of those dodgy places where the prices on electronic goods can just about fluctuate for a good couple of hundred dollars. Apparently though, the cameras were all sensibly priced, only just slightly lower then what they do at Harvey Norman’s. He bought it and was about to leave when they started attempting to sell him all sorts of other unnecessary, clearly over priced shit. A card reader for $399? Whose ass are you trying to kid. I told the guy he was nuts, a card reader at that price?! He got mad of course, but didn’t say anything until we left the shop. After which I heard him curse something in Hokkien that basically went along the lines of, ‘crazy bitch, interfering in things that are none of her business’.
We took it back to his place, and he asked if I’d like to give him a massage if he promised one in return. I said it would be my pleasure, and he took out too much money and asked if that was enough for a massage. I didn’t take the money eventually because… well, what for? I’m sure he has a lot of it to blow, but… actually I’ve got no explanation for it. I like money, but my massages are nothing worth paying for, and I wouldn’t take anything unless I think I deserved it. Or unless I’m in dire need of it. And I’ll also not take anything unless the people giving it were comfortable with it.
He’d said the amount I’d ask for earlier on last year was a little too steep, and I thought it was too. You must remember at this point that all I’d been doing then was fooling around attempting to see how much he would be willing to dispense. It was not a case of business psychology. I hate bartering with my body anyway, I think it’s stupid, degrading, and generally something I don’t find pleasant. If there’s something both him and I are comfortable with, then that’s all I care for. The purpose is not to milk it for all it’s worth, honestly. I’m just trying to make myself as happy as I can. And anyway, the truth of the matter is this. I don’t need the money: Firstly, I don’t like shopping, secondly, my parents buy me everything I want, and thirdly, Ethan will be paying for everything on our holiday, so my previous excuse of saving cash to travel is no longer valid.
And I really, really hate shopping. Nice things to wear are great, but the time that’s needed to find them just annoys me beyond belief.
Chris is completely cool. He’s good looking (for his age), very kind, not demanding in the least, and receptive to me. I don’t know how exactly to put it, but unlike Dr. Seuss, I don’t feel a need to conjure up an artificial willingness to please when I don’t want to. Oh, and he is quite good in bed.
He offered to shave me before we left for dinner, and after he did that, asked me to throw him a figure. I looked at him for awhile, trying to puzzle out what he was saying before I realized he was getting at. I gave him a figure I thought was sensible; besides, I believed I’d be embarrassed if it was any more. Like I said, I’m not doing this to live, and it’s just compensating for my time and the dates with Martine and the blank canvas at home that I’m forgoing. For some odd reason, I was less annoyed and uncomfortable with myself when he’d given it to me in a foreign currency. It felt more like monopoly money, and the whole thing didn’t feel as awkward. It was the way he did it too, he gave it to me without question and asked what I’d like for dinner right after I’d tucked it away.
I am quite convinced that any girl who doesn’t do something like it when given the opportunity is simply crazy. Great guy, great company, generally a good time, and as if that’s not enough, you’re given something for it. I don’t think it’s vaguely degrading, how can it possibly be when the other person doesn’t demean you in any manner. Rather, he extolled how wonderful I was, and seemed beyond thankful for my company. I think this sort of thing only gets demeaning when the person doesn’t see you as a person, but more like a rubber blow-up.
And conversely, it’s completely unethical to force people to give things they do not want to, or cannot afford to. Happens when psycho women divorce their husbands and take half their money and their kids away. So think about it then my dear critics, and tell me what is evil and what isn’t. Oddly the world and it’s laws seem to accept the latter.
He sent me off in a cab after dinner, and left me a huge tip. I am… I’ll sleep very well tonight. That’s all I can say,
xoxox
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