The first part of today was quite straightforward... sleep in and read a lot. Then I went to the barbecue which also involved a lounge-room performance by a band who is going off to a festival soon. They were great. I was sort of hoping Genevieve would turn up because we got on really well last time but I for some reason didn’t get her number. I didn’t really remember what she looked like exactly, except that I thought she was pretty, and she was tall and quite thin. So of course two quite pretty, tall, thin girls arrive at once, and someone calls out to one of them. So not wishing to embarrass myself I held back. After I’d had a brief chat to what I thought was the decoy Genevieve it turned out I was talking to the real one. By that time I was ready to go off to the other party.

The other party was a 21st in the city in a groovy underground bar. Having drunk a reasonable amount of beer at the barbecue I only needed occasional alcohol to maintain the plateau of pleasantly inebriated. It got interesting when the dancing started properly. I had a good dance with Gillian, who I’ve known for ten years now and who is always up for a dance. She taught me to Charleston a few years ago. Then I danced with Melanie, whom I fancied quite a bit just before she met her currant boyfriend (while I was there watching). When it seemed like a lot of people had gone, I decided to make a move as well. When I said goodbye to Sophia, a girl who is utterly gorgeous (but I always imagined I would be way out of her preferred age range), she insisted we have a last dance. As she was dirtying up the dancing I realised she seemed to be looking for a pash (that’s Aussie for kiss). I was so surprised I ended up kissing her on the forehead (duh!) and walking home wondering what it would have been like to pash her, and then wondering whether (if she was up for it- of course she was in my heightened imagination) I would rather be spending a fun night with her, or walking home and doing a diary entry. Well duh! I’m really bad with anything unexpected like that. If January Jones turned up at my door looking for a night of passion I’d probably have to think it through until she lost her spontaneity and went home. Which sucks. And why didn’t girls do that when I was an appropriate age to be doing that kind of thing?

If I had a girlfriend I could behave exactly as I did tonight, but go home thinking about spending the night with her, rather than what I might have done if I had the nerve.

Here’s an interesting entry I’ve been reading by .

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