Glad to be here again. Sort of. A lot to talk about, as per usual – everyone knows that I got quite a mouth on me. Some, luckily for them, know more than others. I feel pretty damned good. Just flossed so god damned hard I was surprised my gums didn’t bleed. They did not. Healthy gums they are, now.
Like I said, there is a lot to talk about. However, since I have already begun on the tooth tangent, let’s finish it off, nicely, shall we? I’m taking good care of my mouth now (that it’s my boyfriend’s favourite place). A couple of months ago I went to the dentist for a tooth ache and was diagnosed with early stage gingivitis. Ten antibiotic pills, and a strict cleaning regimen later, my teeth and gums sparkle. Well they would if they were not so naturally yellow – the teeth, not the gums.
Honestly, one of the main reasons I’m being so careful now (apart from the late-stage-gingivitis pictures the dentist’s assistant showed me) is the dentist. God, I can’t wait for my next check up. That was the hottest dentist I’ve ever seen. Here I was expecting to walk into a room full of painful, probing instruments wielded by a sadistic, masked individual, and instead I walked into a room full of painful, probing instruments wielded by a sadistic, masked, gorgeous hunk of medical practitioner. I hope the next instrument he puts inside of my mouth is something he was born with.
So I was there, lying down on that molest-me reclining char, my mouth wide open thinking:
“God… I hope there isn’t snot in my nose. He is in a position to see straight into my brain. I wonder what it would be like if we had met under different circumstances. Then again, if I met him at a bar or something, and he told me he was a dentist, I’d probably stop smiling immediately. I mean, I wouldn’t want to get diagnosed with gingivitis on my first date. I’m not that kind of a girl… Why does he keep asking me questions? I can’t answer with my mouth open! What kind of reverse-ventriloquist does he think I am?”
I’m due back for a regular check up in April.
So I’m still committed. The Syrian is still very much a part of life. It’s weird, really, my feelings for him. About 2 weeks ago, I was fully prepared to write an entry about how much I could not stand him, and that I just jumped into a relationship with him too fast, and I’m just going to ride it out. Hell, I cannot even remember everything I intended to write, even though it was practically paraphrased in my head, and it was only left to my fingers to spell it out. Then I went to Tobago again this past weekend. I spent a lot of time with him, and his friends. It was not the fuck-fest of the last Tobago trip, but it was equally good. We hung out a lot. We went to the beach, we went to a club and we danced with each other as well as with other people. It was pretty good all in all.
After spending as much time with him as I have, I have come to the decision that I do want to be with him, and although I am not certain that he is the right person for me, I am fairly certain (though perhaps not quite yet utterly convinced) that he is the right person for me right now.
There is only one thing that bothers me, however. Hanging out as much as we did in Tobago with his friends and his friends’ friends, and going to clubs, I saw how girls approached him. He is very flirtatious. He does not touch, but he says things that I know other men probably would not say to other women in the presence of their girlfriends. It was weird standing there some times, and hearing sexual innuendo flying between your boyfriend and another girl. But then afterwards, the girls leave, and he bad-talks them a bit, for throwing themselves at him like they do.
It would not bother me so much if it had not been for a small exchange between myself and one his best liming buddies – Kit, let’s call him. Kit and I were liming under an umbrella, sitting on lounge chairs, while we watched The Syrian and a few other playing football or something like that on the shore. We were talking about how the people were in Tobago in general, and the subject came up about how sometimes people go to a different country, and fuck down the place, to put it quite bluntly.
Kit: “…But you can’t do that. You have to be careful. I always tell this one he has to cool it down too.”
Me: “This one? Who? The Syrian?”
Kit: “Yeah.”
I furrowed my brow a bit, and gave a little confused smile.
Me: “You mean… before he met me, right? Now he wouldn’t be doing anything…” I trailed off, cognizant that I was the girlfriend talking to the GUY-friend of my boyfriend, and the kind of position that would put both of us in. Phrasing what I wanted to ask would be tricky.
Kit kinda looked away and nodded, with an expression on his face that I tried my best to decipher. My preliminary code-break indicates that his expression said:
“Not quite.”
That is as far as my code breaking skills go. I am no Dan Brown, after all.
Me: “You look like you’re thinking – ‘Yeah, Tiragem, whatever makes you sleep at night…’”.
He did not really respond.
That really worries me.
What I wanted to ask him was if he knew of any discretions committed by The Syrian in the time that we were together. I wanted to ask him DO YOU KNOW IF HE CHEATED ON ME?
But I could not ask that. I could not put The Syrian’s really good friend in that precarious position. He would be stuck between being honest by telling a girl whether she has been placing her trust in someone who she should not, and ratting out on his friend. At the end of the day, he is good friends with The Syrian, and I am just some girl he knows through The Syrian. It is really not his place to tell me anything.
Still, I want to know, and I what I got so far is ominous. I will most likely see Kit sometime around Christmas, because I left a tonne of things when I was at The Syrian’s place (shoes, jeans, dirty underwear), and he is supposed to bring them for me. When he does, I will struggle not to ask him anything.
I tried bringing up the subject of “cheating” with The Syrian in an offhanded way since then, and when I jokingly ask if he is fucking anybody else, he joking replies that he does not. He says he has never cheated on anyone. I wish I could just accept that, but it still bothers me. Bringing it up again any time soon is out of the question because I do not want to harp on the topic and therefore win the crown of Miss Jealous Distrustful Girlfriend 2006. And I do not want to implicate Kit.
Confused is what I am, I guess. Especially when you lump the above with The Syrian getting angry whenever any guy uses sexual innuendo with me, and then telling me things like I am the last girl he will ever love, and he does not want to lose me. It’s just… weird.
There is so much more than that to be written, but I have to end it here. Christmas chores call, and I am going to answer them to the sounds of C. Grey AKA “Kud” of Mudvayne belting out:
“Repeating in my head 'betrayal'. Repeating in my head
'insecurities'. Repeating in my head
'dividends'... It’s all me! All you are! Without me there’s nothing else! There’s no one!” – “All That You Are”, “Lost and Found”, Mudvayne