My parents have taken to Ethan quite well. Actually, infinitely much better then they took to the Ex. They didn’t ask him anything much at all, my dad had a conversation with him about anti-Semitism, finance ministers and other boring things like that. For some reason or other, my parents didn’t seem particularly interested in the least where our traveling was concerned.
We landed sometime in the middle of the afternoon and Checked In. Walk about for a bit before ending up (oddly enough) in front of Mr. Big’s place to catch a cab. There were other nice white boys with their girlfriends, oranges in hand and huge hampers with XO in them. Ethan looked at me like, ‘Why didn’t you tell me most people got those when they went visiting!’
‘Do you think we have to get some oranges?’ He asked.
I thought it might be a good idea, but then again, my parents aren’t the vaguely traditional sort. They just like having fondue once a year at home, with a lot of ngo hiang and other relevant festive food like so.
‘I think I’d rather be on time. My parents don’t care anyway, and I think I’d feel odd if you tried too hard.’
He was god awfully nervous when he got into my place and I stashed him into my room immediately. I realized that I actually missed my things quite a bit, and it felt really good to lie on my bed, listen to my CDs and hear my sister talk. Apparently she’s been suspended from school till March for putting up a picture of her snogging another girl while straddling her upon a table. My parents didn’t think it was a big deal, it’s just a bunch of girls (there were another couple of people involved) whacking around. My brother’s school never says anything about the boys snogging each other in photographs; they’re just kids whacking around to get laughs out of their classmates, that’s all.
But ah, they think pictures like that ‘disgrace’ the school and the country. Odd. Kumar (cross dressing drag) nearly a national symbol.
I’m listening to Norah Jones’s first album now and feeling very nostalgic for nothing and for everything. I miss Martine a little, I’m already missing Ethan although sometimes I think he’s too much (must you feel like fucking through an 18 pack in 4 days?) I’ve no idea why, but I’m actually getting bored of it, it’s just too much, and too boring. I’ve tried nearly all the novelty things I could come up with, from bondage to raping the virgin Mary and all, and this morning I was like, ah what the hell. I’m not really in the mood but since fucking feels great anyway, whether or not I’m in the mood, s’allright.
‘I bet I’m not the first one to tell you you’re a completely monster in bed.’
‘No. You’re the one that tolerates it the most though. You don’t have to if you don’t want to.’
‘Yeah? But then you’ll just keep on bugging me trying to find ways to get me horny.’
I don’t know what to say. He’s very nice, sweet and unbearably well-mannered in comparison to me. It was his birthday a couple of days ago, and that morning when we woke up he kissed me, fucked me then lay down beside me on his stomach and said, ‘I’d like to invite you to the Banyan Tree tonight. It’s my birthday… and you’re company will be the best present I’ll be getting.’ And he kissed my hand. I thought that was kinda… charming. And I cannot believe I got his birthdate wrong.
I had a rather pleasant evening last night, too much food, as expected, but great nonetheless. He got to do some of the less risqué activities I have lined up for some of my nights. Which is to say, beer and prata (very oily pancake) and a lot of bawdy laughter with a couple of other blokes.
Off for a swim before half an afternoon of sheer boredom with the prissy my-kid’s-behaviour-is-better-than-yours mother’s side of the family.
The G-Spot tried to call me some time ago. I really miss him. The laid back disposition, the concerned amusement with my antics and lifestyle; But I think he’s having a great time in film school. Maybe I’ll see him soon, who ever knows these things.
xoxox
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