Thursday, Mar. 07, 2002
And the winner is....
A funny thing happened on the way to the studio...(well, not *Really* the studio, but you get me...)
To comprehend this bizarre event in it's entirety, i'm going to have to take you back... back to where Ophelia was younger, the summers were warmer and Sydney Olympic fever was spurred on by a mid-semester break and copious amounts of alcohol...
Ophelia was in luuuuuurve with the most popular boy on campus... Uni President with sex-appeal, RICH, people power and a charming smarmy quality which sucked everyone in. Very Clintonesque He exhuded power, lust, passion... *ahem*... sorry... getting sidetracked. Ahyhoo..
Turns out Ophelia's efforts weren't all in vain. She and 'Bill' hooked up on Opening Ceremony night after all the crazy uni students left their bar intoxicated, satiated and hungry.
With promises for many a fun-filled week, including dinner at ophelia's house that week, a party at 'Bill's' house that weekend and the prospect of young love a-blossoming, it was all looking very well.
When Bill stopped answering her calls, Ophelia got the message.
When Bill told everyone there wasn't anything happening, Ophelia got the message.
When Bill slept with someone else a week later at his party (where ophelia wasn't invited) Ophelia REALLY got the message.
When Bill runs into Ophelia two years later and suggest they go out for a coffee to talk about their Theses, Ophelia has no idea what the smeg's going on.
It happened today. my first day back at uni and a chance to suss out all the other honours students... Bill was one of them. After all this time, I still wasn't sure whether i wanted to throttle him or jump his bones. Brain said one thing, it's just that hormones were screaming so loud it was hard to hear anything else. In the end, i realised i was a disappointment to myself and others, and produced a meek reply and a cringe....
....Isn't it amazing how conversations you have in your head are never quite the same as the ones that actually come out of your mouth? Example:
"What do you MEAN we should go out for a coffee, you bastard? You hurt me sooo much with your lying, smarmy-ass rich boy attitude that it took me no less that six months to get over you. Here's where you can stick your thesis and your fucking coffee!!"
Unfortunately, what came out was:
*startled pause* Um. ok. {ophelia meekly writes her phone and email down}
What's the bet that little scrap of paper's already in the bin? I can just imagine him giggling maniacly muttering "I did it again. I did it again. Yippee."
Eh.
Men.
Speaking of which...
The Boy's reply email to my incoherent sleepless one was so very polite i felt bad for bothering him in the first place.
Sometimes, i get easily confused.