The Syrian was in the country this weekend. Let's make this as quick as possible.
We went out - first Wave, then some other place in Chaguaramas to play pool, and finally back to where he was staying while on the mainland.
Of course, we had sex, showered together, slept together until his roomie came back from the casino.
Then we watched a DVD of his roomie's niece's christening in Syria while eating KFC.
It was weird overall. Blase is probably a better word. Last night was but an ersatz and broken imitation of what we had in Tobago a month ago. Today, I am left feeling dispassionate ambivalence. To put it as Morgan Webb, video-game reviewer of X-play once stated of the Alien race, "the Khak":
"There is blown Khak everywhere, yet I am left feeling largely unsatisfied."
And I think he felt it too. Perhaps this is just the result of an anti-climax. I do not know. I can still see myself as his girlfriend - there were some interesting points during the time we went out. But will that ever happen? I do not know.
I called this morning and we spoke for a couple minutes. He said something about going it again, I said something about that being cool. He has not called back since, and neither have I. It's almost 5 in the afternoon, and his flight is supposed to leave sometime tonight - or early tomorrow morning...
Shit... I just checked my phone... he called. Twice. About 20 minutes ago. Should I call him back?
Alas... before I go, I must state that I got my vibrating dildo - Mae and I dubbed it "Tangerine Nanton" - there's a history behind that name that must be written. And Tangerine Nanton works. Well.