A Journal Of Little Consequence Based on a true story.

Friday, October 31, 2003   Upon arriving at work, I was surprised to be greeted by Z.(a), a woman I had known and worked with six years previously, who was freelancing at my place of work for the day. I resisted the urge to rush up to her and embrace her tightly, though in retrospect it wouldn't have been so inappropriate to do so. She asked me if I remembered her, a question I found bizarre at the time. How could I have forgotten someone as charming and good-looking, I thought to myself. But then charming and good-looking people are only human, and as prone to self-doubt as anyone else. Z.(a) had hardly changed at all; she still had an almost child-like generosity of spirit about her, a quality that I had always been fond of. She was still exceptionally attractive as well, as was evidenced by the inability of one male colleague to look away from her despite his own efforts when he saw her for the first time. At one stage, she told me, chortling, about how another male co-worker had asked her in the lift if she "came here often". All this made me rather wish that someone had been around to overhear her suggesting that I should come along to some historical re-enactment society that she takes part in. Of course, this invitation was not borne out of any sexual chemistry between us, but out of her open and giving nature. Still, any eavesdroppers would not have known that, and it would have provided "social proof" of my attractiveness to women, which would ideally have planted a seed to this effect in the minds of the other women I work with. I discussed this idea later with J. at what was supposed to be a leaving drinks gathering for an ex-colleague of mine, but who was absent, having unexpectedly taken off on holiday. Therefore, the pub was full of people whom I barely knew, as a woman whom I had never met, from the sister company of my former employers, was also leaving that day. A shame again, as turning up with J. would have provided more of this "social proof", and it is so very rare that I arrive at a gathering with someone. Z. was there, which would have been ideal had this been a few months earlier, when the sexual tension between us had been high. In any case, J. and I agreed that we would go out on an expedition to hunt for sexual partners and use this phenomenon to boost each other's attractiveness. However, I fear that J. may end up with any women I take a fancy to on such an excursion herself. We talked further about J.'s colleague, whom she had recently deflowered. I was very curious as to how this had come about; was she that enthralled by his geekery? She explained that she had done it as a kind of gift to him, as his virginity was a sore point for him, and that she had told him it was a one-off (actually two-off) occurrence, and that they were not in a "relationship". It wasn't an act of pity, however; she is attracted to him, and my guess is that they will sleep together again at some stage. J.'s explanation did make me feel a little better about my own concerns about my (non) attractiveness to women. J. told me that she had spoken on the telephone to a man that she had been profoundly in love with, but who did not feel the same way about her. She had recounted the details of her feelings for him to me on a number of occasions in the past, and ha said that if she would only re-marry if she found someone for whom she had the kind of love that she had for this man. I found this idea to be misguided, due to my reservations about romantic love. J. once again provided me with colourful metaphors to illustrate the depth of her emotions for this person. However, the telephone conversation had apparently been less than inspiring, and had served to clarify to J. that the object of her love had never understood her. "What was I thinking?" she said. Later, after J. had left to join some colleagues, I moved over to where Z. was sitting with her gay best friend. They were teasing D.(a) about his sexuality, implying that he might be gay himself (which he is not), and alternating between claims that they themselves were either hetereosexual or homosexual, which was starting to confuse me too, as I had not known that he was gay previously. "Of course, you know we're not really gay," said Z.'s friend to me. Z. continued the game, telling me that when she nibbled my earlobe she was pretending to be gay so that she could use me for my body. Another joke, I thought. It was a little mild; surely something more extreme such as "that time we slept together, I was only pretending to be gay" would have been more suitable. Then I suddenly remembered that the "fictitious" incident had actually happened, months before. I thought that this episode, which occurred when Z. was under the influence of drink, would have been long forgotten by her, another in a long line of flirtations consigned to the bin of history (Z. has claimed that she has a great deal of sex). If Z. really was alluding to that moment, perhaps I have been underestimating the amount of effort it takes for people to do these things. It had meant a lot to me at the time - did it mean something to her as well? posted by grover | Friday, October 31, 2003 Wednesday, October 29, 2003   Vague thoughts of Z. and how I would act the next time I saw her had been drifting through my mind. Unexpectedly, I bumped into her in the street early in the morning. With no time to obsess about the impression I was making, the encounter went more smoothly than the last few we had had. As with my last meeting with J., I was starting to feel more like the self I had discovered a little over a year ago, rather than the overly self-conscious, game-playing person that I had been feeling like more recently. Freed from the chains of forethought, I gave Z. a hug and a (platonic) kiss for the first time in months. I reflected on the amount of respect I have for my colleague R., despite my suspicions that he is homophobic and may have been some sort of hooligan in the past, and his fondness for swearing and crudity. He seems to live life to the full, taking an interest in the world about him, and involving himself in all sorts of activities, from comic-collecting to tropical-fish-keeping to being a father. This was brought on by him telling me that as a schoolboy, he had taken part in the National Conker Championships. I found it admirable that he was willing to take part in something that some might see as foolish, rather than sitting on the sidelines, a position that I am only too familiar with myself. Upon discovering that my colleague T.(a) was homosexual, my perceptions of him changed immediately. There was no doubt about it; it was cause for discrimination, albeit of the "positive" kind. Everything seemed to suddenly fall into place; no wonder he was so unusually sensitive and considerate. I must admit that I am drawn to people who are a little "different", and see those in the mainstream of this society as being rather selfish and narrow-minded in comparison. Although it is true that being something of an outsider often helps to give you a little more perspective than being wholly immersed in "the crowd", I do not believe that mine is a healthy attitude, and I shall try to be less condemnatory. I lied my way into a seminar that required a ticket for entry in order to meet with my new business associate S., N. and D.'s replacement. Afterwards, he commented on the rapport I had struck with one of his friends whom I had met there. At the time, I was more conscious of how I had only struck up a rapport with one of the people he had introduced me to. S.'s observation brought home to me the point that it is not unusual to not establish an instant friendship with everyone you meet. It doesn't make you some sort of social cripple. I did strike up a degree of rapport with a woman who flat-out asked if she could listen in on the conversation we were having. This was acceptable to us, though I wonder if a man would have been as successful if making a similarly explicit request. The others I was with didn't seem to pay her a great deal of attention, but I exchanged a few words with her as I was on the verge of leaving the venue. I pulled myself away, but I got the feeling that there was something I had left hanging in the air, some expectation left unfulfilled. Would it have been normal to ask for her number at this point? Walking towards the train station, I took the opportunity to return an earlier call from J. when my associate, who was by my side, made a call to his wife. My conversation lasted longer than his, and when I ended it, he asked me if I had been talking to my "loved one". I was somewhat caught off guard by the question, and spluttered a little before replying that she was a friend. However, I also felt proud that one half of an overheard telephone call provided evidence of my love for J. posted by grover | Wednesday, October 29, 2003   My boss told me that my attitude astounded her. It seemed that I was back on track, although I hope that this does not affect my imminent pay review. posted by grover | Wednesday, October 29, 2003 Monday, October 27, 2003   Having asked my boss for a raise, I waited expectantly for a list of reasons as to why I could not have one. I was therefore a little surprised to be told that there were no problems at all with either my work or my position in the company. What had happened to my former reputation as a troublemaker? posted by grover | Monday, October 27, 2003 Thursday, October 23, 2003   My colleague S.(a) accused me of being incapable of not lying, in stark contrast to what I perceive as actually being the case, although I obliged her by continuing to make various ludicrous assertions. At some point the subject of conversation turned to the human menstrual cycle, and S.(a) said that surely I had had girlfriends who were on the contraceptive pill. I managed to evade answering (not in the most graceful way), and marvelled at the persistence of my attitude that the idea of my having sexual relations with women is ridiculous, even in comparison to the most outrageous falsehoods I sometimes come out with, which are believed despite being intended as a joke. posted by grover | Thursday, October 23, 2003 Wednesday, October 22, 2003   (Tuesday night's entry) I appeared to have offended my colleague S.(a) with my attempts to "spice up" my interactions with women. She had been commenting on some sex scene in a low-quality movie that we were watching, and I had asked her if it brought back bad memories for her, to which she retorted that it was none of my business. With no idea whatsoever as to how to respond, I simply stared at her, my mind a blank, as I continued to munch prawn crackers from the bag I had bought earlier. This seemed to intimidate her, and, giggling nervously, she asked me to stop doing it. This has happened to me many times before. The (non) action of doing nothing at all, usually brought on by a mental block of some sort, results in others interpretating my inactivity in their own way, by definition giving me more credit than is due. Of course, it's a poor substitute for actual charisma. posted by grover | Wednesday, October 22, 2003 Saturday, October 18, 2003   I spoke with A. about his involvement in my current project, which now appears to have little prospect of receiving any funding. He was adamant that people should be paid, something that I am unwilling to do. I did not push the point very far, but it seemed that pushing it at all was dissuading A. from taking part in the project. Perhaps this was not the best situation to assert my opinion (even though I did so to a minimal degree), when faced with someone I wanted to work with who had the opposing point of view. After all, the priority is to get results. J. called. She told me that she had engaged in sexual intercourse with one of the shy virgin geeks she works with. This piece of information induced a mild feeling of nausea, and I moved the conversation on as quickly as possible, though I remained nonchalant, and even managed to congratulate her. I presumed that my reaction was pure jealousy, as I can be rather possessive. After further consideration, I realised that this was only a fraction of the puzzle (possibly quite a large fraction). After all, I don't wish to sleep with J. more than any other woman (which is not to say I don't wish to at all). I was taking the news personally because of the parallels I was seeing between myself and J.'s colleague, whom I have never met. I had been disturbed by the descriptions J. had given me about their relationship, because of the apparent similarities to the one between her and myself. If someone like that could attract her, why couldn't I? I "reasoned" that there must be something wrong with me. This is, of course, mental garbage. I shall examine it to assure myself of its status, then discard it. To my surprise, T. told me that I had been ejected from his band as singer some time ago. At the request of his fellow band-mates, he is now using a vocalist that he previously said was "half-arsed" in comparison to me. It seems that my adventures in corporate rock are at an end. posted by grover | Saturday, October 18, 2003 Friday, October 17, 2003   My journey to photograph a late-night heavy metal concert featuring N.(a) was delayed, firstly by my primary camera failing to function, and then by a train derailment that affected the part of the city that I was travelling to. I had hoped to meet with someone else before the concert, but I could not get through to anyone I called except for S., who was about to go home. I could have tried calling a number of other people, all of whom were likely to be in town, but for various reasons I did not feel inclined to do so. When I eventually did arrive at the concert venue, I suddenly felt rather anxious. Even when I am attending social gatherings, I arrive on my own, and as is often the case, I only knew one person there. Self-conscious as I was, I failed to exploit the one occasion when a woman spoke to me, to ask the name of the band that had just played. Soon, N.(a)'s band appeared on stage, and I shot a roll of film with my back-up camera. Still nervous, my judgement was a little off. I loaded a second roll, and started to feel more comfortable. However, something seemed to have gone wrong with this camera as well. I had taken what felt like hundreds of frames, but the roll had a capacity of just thirty-six. I repeatedly retreated to a dark corner of the room, where I draped my coat over my lap, and fiddled with the camera underneath it, opening it to try to find the problem. Fortunately, everyone else's attention was focussed on the stage, otherwise I might have been ejected from the building for lewd conduct. After the band had finished their set, I suddenly felt a great deal more relaxed, and exchanged light conversation with a few people. It had been rather distressing to have found myself in my old, shy mode of (not) interacting with people earlier, but, I realised, it really didn't make a great deal of difference to anyone else, so it might as well not make a difference to me. posted by grover | Friday, October 17, 2003 Thursday, October 16, 2003   My lunch break from work, despite being a little shorter than usual, provided me with all of the following: Martyrdom I left for my break ten minutes late, having been slowed a little because I was demonstrating the nature of my work to an inquisitive colleague. Consumerism I purchased a cable for my aunt's computer. Exercise Unsure of how to spend the rest of my break, I wandered the streets for a while. Spirituality I sat in a very pleasant churchyard that I had passed many times, but which I had never entered. However, I was only able to stay for a few minutes, as I was due to return to work. Conversation At the very moment I was walking to the exit of the churchyard, B. was passing it on his way to work. We spoke for a while, and agreed that he would return my rucksack. Drama I nearly fell down a drain whilst crossing the road, as the corner of the grating was missing. Soya milk posted by grover | Thursday, October 16, 2003 Wednesday, October 15, 2003   I have long propounded the virtues of taking camomile tea when one is feeling tired and has to stay awake, in order to "go with the flow" rather than fighting against it with the use of stimulants such as caffeine. Having consumed a single praline the evening before, I had slept very poorly. A change in my behaviour was noted at work. "Is he always like this?" asked one of the directors of the company. N.(a) observed that I was acting in the manner that I tended to when working the night shift, when, he said, I would "push the boat out" more. Apparently, I become rather more extroverted when under the influence of fatigue, my tiredness paradoxically leading to a kind of hyperactivity, during which I make all kinds of loud pronouncements. Later, I found myself gazing lustily at a female co-worker whom I ordinarily think of as being rather frumpy. Towards the end of the day, I had an uncharacteristically bawdy conversation with another female colleague, whom I offered to penetrate from the rear whilst she was doing the washing-up. It seemed that not all my inhibitions had disappeared, however, as I was still unsure of the extent to which the conversation was based on pure play-acting, or whether it had some basis in actual attraction. N.(a) commented that I should be fed pralines more often. Maybe so, though I wouldn't want to develop a habit. Just keep me away from the coffee cremes. posted by grover | Wednesday, October 15, 2003 Tuesday, October 14, 2003   As I arrived at my old workplace to meet with N. and D. in order for them to hand over the work they had done on our project, I met G. at the entrance to the building. He asked me if I had come to tell them off, which I replied to in the negative. I had been badmouthing N. and D. to a considerable extent over the last few days, something that would previously have been uncharacteristic of me. However, having gotten much of the hostility I felt towards them off my chest, I reflected that ranting at them would achieve little. I did express that I felt they should have done more during the time we were working together (with too little force, as it happened), and took away the useless sheets of paper D. had collated for me over the previous months. Later, after N. and D. had gone, I returned to the building to meet M., as we were going on a motor journey. Z. was there. I marvelled at the complete absence of chemistry between us. Until recently, it was inconceivable that I could be anything but unfazed by a lack of sexual tension between myself and any given woman. Is having the opposite problem a sign of progress? Despite the decidedly tepid nature of our current relationship, I still managed to wring out a bit of puckish double-entendre-based word-play, but my heart wasn't really in it. M. was offended by a subsequent play on words that I made whilst I was riding shotgun with him on the way to see one of his associates who is helping him build his pornographic empire. Our friendship seems to have turned into a kind of mentor-protege relationship, with M. giving me advice, and myself complaining rather too much about my problems. I am complicit in this, of course, but it doesn't quite work, as M. is hardly a guru, and, as demonstrated by this incident, has his own share of hang-ups. On my return home, I discovered that the rickety van that M. had been driving had leaked engine oil all over my suede shoes. A page on the internet advised covering the stains with cornflour and leaving it to absorb the oil. To my amazement, it worked. posted by grover | Tuesday, October 14, 2003 Friday, October 10, 2003   B. told me that I was the only man he had ever met who would look out at a dancefloor, and actually be primarily concerned with the way people were dancing. At one point, he even asked me to swap seats with him, as I was not involved in ogling women, so that he could get a better view. However, I returned to my original place when he left to visit the toilet. "Don't you ever just look at a woman and think: 'I'd like to shag that'?" asked B. as I half-heartedly tried to drool over the females on display. But it was no good - I felt too self-conscious, and continued to focus on the actual dancing. It was something I was interested in, as I have never been out dancing myself; at school discos, I always stood on the sidelines, and indeed I was the only pupil excused from ballroom dancing lessons. I wanted to get an idea of the kinds of moves people made, as well as seeing how ridiculous people were willing to look (the answer being: very). A band came on and started playing covers of popular songs. As B. is more into underground music, I thought he would turn his nose up at it, but to my surprise he liked them, and went out onto the dancefloor for one song. I was a little ashamed of not willing to venture an opinion on them until I knew what B. thought of them. A short while later, B., clearly not enjoying my company, put on his coat and said that we might as well go, as I neither drank or danced. I was a little annoyed by his irritability, but it did highlight a couple of interesting things. Firstly, B., despite having known me for years, did not expect me to behave the way I did, indicating once again that the "abnormality" I see in myself is largely in my own mind. Secondly, although I thought it a little harsh of B. to admonish me for not fitting in with his idea of normal behaviour, the main contributor to my looking "bad" that evening was in fact me self-consciousness, my desire to not look bad. Had I just flailed my arms about wildly and leered at women without worrying about how idiotic I appeared, i probably would have had a better time. posted by grover | Friday, October 10, 2003 Thursday, October 09, 2003   After I had spent some time cursing the names of N. and D. for leaving the project we were involved in, J. and I sat on the floor playing with the Lego bricks I had brought for her daughter, having just cleared out some of my old belongings. J. was particularly fond of the clear bricks. Later, as my stomach heaved due to the motion of the moored ship we were sitting in the bar-room of, J. said that she thought I spent my time wisely with all sorts of activities such as parade-watching and museum-going, while she wasted hers. My feelings contradict hers directly; I feel that she has the exciting life, whilst I have to "make do" with various solitary pursuits. Funny to think that my rather patchy lawn would seem so green when viewed from J.'s verdant pastures. posted by grover | Thursday, October 09, 2003 Friday, October 03, 2003   (Thursday night's entry) I dismissed my colleague N.(a), who had finished all his work one hour into our twelve-hour shift. With a long, solitary night ahead, I was pleased to receive J. as a visitor. The discussion turned to this diary. I told J. of the great difficulty I have producing daily entries, particularly during the weeks when I work nights, when I can barely remember what day it is, let alone what I did. J. herself had kept a journal for some years, and expounded the virtues of ensuring that an entry was made for each day. However, she had not had guidelines as strict as the ones I have been using, namely that the entry must be either amusing or thought-provoking (at least to myself). I sometimes sit for hours trying to think of something to write here that will be readable to others. As a result, this journal is starting to lose its function as a tool for my own development, and indeed the separate diary I keep for my personal use, where I deposit general, out-of-context thoughts that would not make much sense to others, has fallen by the wayside due to the effort I put into this one. Therefore, I intend to only write entries here when something about the day presents itself as being worthy of sharing, rather than spending large amounts of time racking my brains and combing through the day's events. The decrease in quantity will hopefully result in an increase in quality. Examples of things that I consider suitable for sharing include: I noticed last night that J. was using the same back-rubbing technique that I have been trying to stop doing myself (with little success) when hugging me. This may be because she thinks I like it (which I don't), as I do it myself, or because I was wearing velvet at the time. As has happened many times, J. enthusiastically talked about her sexual interest in a man she had met. Emotionally immature though it may be, I am increasingly tempted to ask her explicitly not to do this. I already stop her in her tracks when she starts talking in excruciating detail about work, another of her favourite subjects. On the other hand, tiresome though it is to hear about how a woman with such a high sex drive wants to sleep with numerous men, none of whom are me, her breathy descriptions of what it is about them that she finds attractive might provide some useful information. As the conversation went on, J. opened up to me about her current unhappiness and the reasons for it. I feel that I could have been a little kinder in my responses, although the specifics of the alternative answers I could have given escape me. For the best part of a year now I have been rather more acerbic than I used to be, especially with women, in an attempt to be less "soft" as a person. It is possible that I have gone too far the other way, but it's not just a mask; I have internalised this harshness to an extent. I have an inkling that there was something appealing about my previous, more gentle persona that I have rather lost sight of at the moment. This is where maintaining my personal diary would come into its own. posted by grover | Friday, October 03, 2003		links my life in prose contact archives