Mr Dopey

Strange Man Update.

Why do I keep attracting these people? Mainly because I keep breaking my other New Year's resolutions such as smoking, drinking too much etc etc, which lead to my being caught in the strange man web.

Went to Fair Day (part of Mardi Gras Festival) Sunday week ago. It was alright although I can think of better things to do other than queuing literally for everything…..beer, food, toilets, dancing, kissing….it was like Moscow in the 90s……..not to mention beer was $7.50 a pop………they were charging $7.50 for beer in a plastic cup!!!!! Anyway got over that…..hung out with some mates in the disco tent which was on situated on a hill…….I spent the whole afternoon disco dancing uphill…….I kept looking for the rope to pull me up.

I finally dragged myself away from said disco tent at 9pm and went to the Bank Hotel where most Fair Day revelers had moved. The place was packed with far too many twinks who kept touching my beard and going "is that a beard?". Need I say more.

So considerably over that and just really really tired (uphill disco dancing can take it out of you), I left……was waiting with five hundred other freaks trying to get a cab driver who would be brave enough to pick one of us up when this strapping 6ft4 swimmers build American college boy look-alike fella came up to me and asked for a cigarette.

I obliged.

"thanks man…..hey….how's ya night" He had a dopey voice. I am an absolute sucker for dopey voices. And of course dopey voices come with the dopey face. And I am sucker for those as well. He was a Brendan Fraser (George of the Jungle) lookalike. I was suddenly not feeling that tired anymore.

"not bad mate…….trying to get a bloody cab….yaself?", I said doing my best rough as guts Russell Crowe impersonation. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't…..I was suddenly feeling lucky.

"yeah….I dunno….ur alright actually…..are you like…like a bear?". I smirked. I always get that question….particularly from the dopey ones. Years ago I used to hate it because I really didn't want to be known as a bear but these days I've succumbed to the fact that I fall into that category…….and if it scores me the odd Brendan Fraser lookalike here and there ….why not.

" I dunno….there's a rumour going around….word on the street….I better check with my publicist." I thought I'd try some sarcasm and see how it went.

His hazey blue eyes just hung in the air looking straightforward into mine. No reaction at all……I saw my flock of sarcasm fly straight over his Robert Redford brow…….not a brain cell in sight. He was dim as Britney. I was in love.

Next thing we were snogging in the cab rank surrounded by fags and their hags, lesbians and their dogs, and drag queens and their make up kits. It was as romantic as chips and gravy. I took him home and did what desperate pissed gay men do. It was fantastic.

Normally I don't do one night stands, not because I am not a tart (I definitely am) but because I can't stand strangers in my house and what to do with them the next morning…..even worse when it's a school night. So Monday morning I was finding myself in a very rare situation…..complete (ok hot) stranger in my bed faced with the prospect of work and getting said stranger out of my house…..even if he was most pleasant to look at. He was from western Sydney but worked at Mascot. He was supposed to be staying with a friend at Newtown and his car was there. I'd left my car at Newtown due to my intoxicated state. I'd originally proposed catching a cab to Newtown but I knew the traffic would be a nightmare and I didn't want to spend 40 bucks on a cab .

After finally unentangling myself from Mr Dopey……it is very difficult to pull yourself away from tall men (who are continually demanding more sex)…..they are all limbs…..it was like fighting a giant octopus. Anyway once I got myself dressed, I looked around to find my taxi rank lover dressed in his kit from the previous night……he looked like he was about to lead the Mardi Gras into oxford street. There was no way I was catching a train on the Bankstown line with him dressed like Esta Williams. We'd be bashed. Not thinking, I gave him a pair of old billabongs and a karkee lacost polo…..one of my favourites……..I remember thinking to myself……..don't give that to him….you will never see it again…..famous last words.

He slumped on my couch like a big cat and looked up to me and said, "I'd really like to see you again…..you're a nice guy." Minus beer goggles in the harsh morning sobriety, it is always a relief to discover that one's pursuits from the night before were indeed (in the purely physical sense), worth pursuing. He really was quite a good looking boy.

I smiled. "Yes I'd like that." I did and I didn't of course. He was sweet and certainly not harsh on the eye but I could tell that he had not a scerrick of sarcasm or sense of humour in his bones and for me that is a minimum requirement in a suitor; well a similar sense of humour and sarcasm. Everyone has a sense of humour peculiar to themselves (ok there are some who clearly have none...I think they all work for Customs). As I've gotten older that's what appeals to me most in a guy.....someone with a similar sense of humour to mine. Someone who will laugh at me, with me and vice versa and not take themselves too seriously. I guess I am just a big kid looking for that other special big kid. I just haven't met him yet. So when it came to Mr Dopey, I wasn't going to be pulling out the wedding invites, but I certainly wouldn't say no to an encore shag.

We gathered our things, had one last pash (I grant the fact that the guy could certainly kiss: tall boys can always kiss for some reason…must be the thin air) and then headed for the train.

Later that Monday night, I got a nice text message from him : " Thanks for an enjoyable night, ur a nice guy, looking forward to seeing you again soon. Dxxx" This is where things started to go a little pear shape for me. Up until that message, I was quite happy to think of him as a good time and a bit of an ego boost…..he was a spunk and it had been a while since I'd picked up a spunk. It was sex and that was it. At first I wasn't going to reply to the message….I thought I'd leave it til later in the week….perhaps another shag and he could bring that lacost polo back. I read the message again. I thought to myself, actually, be nice to him, he seems sweet, make a bit of an effort….send a message now. So I texted…..

"Hey [Mr Dopey]! How was your day? Thanks for a great time mate. You're a sweet sexy guy. I was so tired today at work but in a good way. I definitely want to see you again "

Sent text. I never heard from him for the rest of the week. This of course caused me to re-read and re-read the sent text. I shouldn't have sent that text. It was too full on. Why did I draft and send that text when I was so tired? I was deliriously slumped on the couch when I sent it having had only an hour or so sleep the night before. No one can draft a cool snappy witty text in under four lines in such a state. No wonder it sounded like a Valentines declaration of love from the desperate and lonely. Oh no…….I was Mr Cool up until my reply…..he was the one who texted me! These thoughts went over and over in my head. AGHHHH!

See how texting has ruined dating. In the old days, I would have called him say the following weekend….asked how his week has been…..see if he wants to catch up….and when can I pick up that shirt. Bla Bla. Now it is a constant re-examination of text messages and their various re-interpreted meanings which drives you into some inadequate morphed state of desperation where you become quite convinced that you are indeed completely nuts. I still am.

"Don't worry about it. He's probably just busy. You said he was having trouble at work…he's probably caught up in that." Judy loves dishing out advice…..particularly to me. Mainly because I dish it out to her. We're like twin sisters….we know exactly what each other's thinking and she knew exactly that was not what I wanted to hear. But it was true…he talked about hating his job.

" I don't care. If I liked someone, I would reply to how was your day." Am I 15 years old with braids?

"I know you would. But he isn't you." Thanks Judy.

"Well why did he bother texting in the first place?" Actually make that ten years old.

"I can't answer that. You know I can't answer that. You don't know what is going on his life." Thanks Judy again.

"I don't care. I just want my shirt back." Hello denial.

"No you don't. You don't give a rat's arse about that shirt." We are twin sisters.

"Shut up." Enough said.

Judy suggested that I should send a dirty care-free text message late Friday night along the lines of hey when are we up for a hookup. That is so not me but I thought I should follow Judy's advice to the word simply because really, I had no one else's. So I sent a so-called dirty care-free text message…..Hey Spunk, how's ya week….when are we hooking up?. Sent 4am Saturday morning after being out on the town with Judy; surprisingly I was quite sober….not drunk or tired. I wasn't expecting a reply straight away obviously. But by about lunch time the next day I kinda was. By 2pm most definitely and by 4pm I was furious. More furious with myself that I'd actually got myself wipped into a frenzy over someone that originally I could have taken or left. It was purely pride at stake here……I'd sent two ridiculous text messages and got nothing in return…….he was the cool cat and I was Bridget Jones and I still didn't have my shirt back……..which yes Judy may not be as high on my priorities as I make out to be but it is still a nice shirt and its only polite to return it…..it is!

At 10pm, my phone buzzes, text message from Mr Dopey:

Hi mate how are you? I just arrived home from Picton : my stepmother's birthday. How are you?

I reply:

Not bad mate. Hope my text last night didn't wake you (Obviously it didn't). Am having a quiet night in for a change. How was Picton?( did I really ask how Picton was? Oh yes I did)

His reply:

It was good we went to this nice restaurant. I am about to go to bed very soon

I reply:

No probs man. Sleep tight. Talk soon (whatever)

Well at least he had replied….eventually….I had a little bit of pride restored. I continued to potter around the house working on this novel (which is all wrong) and chain smoking (which is also all wrong).

By about 2.45am, I'm gathering my shit and getting read for bed. 3am…..my phone starts ringing….I fully expect it to be Judy or Trev screaming at me to come out. I look at the number………..my my …..it's Mr Dopey.

Me: Hey
Mr D: Heyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy…….what are you doing…… (I could smell the vodka coming down the phone)

Me : well it being 3 am….am either usually dancing or sleeping……you've got me on an off night….am standing.

Mr D : oh (he seemed surprised by this response)

Me : What are you doing (I hesitantly enquired)

He was beyond drunk. It was like talking to Jodie Foster in the movie Nell….remember the one about a mute woman who had grown up in the woods and developed her own language. Did that make me Liam Leeson (Foster's co-star) in this scenario? I'm not tall enough. All I know is that in the time between 11pm and 3 am, Mr Dopey had managed (he told me and after hearing him speak, I believed him) to consume an entire bottle of vodka. Great….. a reclusive alcoholic.

Being the trooper I am (read: desperate), I managed to talk to him for another two hours. In that time (through a lot of stops and what did you just say?) I discovered the following:

1. Was about to be married at 22 (he's 33 now): he told his wife to be that he was gay on the day of the wedding: well he does seem to take his time to get messages through….look at his text messages.
2. He still lives in the house that him and his fiancé bought; his father bought it for him: at least he owns a house.
3. His brother tried to run him over in his car two weeks ago: why's that I asked? He hates my guts he responded. I can see that, I said, but is there anything else….I can't stand my neighbour but I haven't got her Spanish rollers stuck under my corolla yet….no response….he repeated the story about 4 times.
4. His parents split when he was 16: ok run of the mill.
5. His mother left his father for another woman: ok moving into Oprah territory.
6. His mother now weighs 140 kilos as does her partner: ok Jerry Springer now.
7. On one hand he's said he's only had two boyfriends and then he said he's had lots in the last year because "like I'm pretty hot". Oh my god was I talking to Paris Hilton? I was worried that Paris Hilton hadn't text me? This is so embarrassing.
8. Mr Dopey: "I like you man. There's a reason why I met you. I know there is." Oh my god…..how did I get myself here?
9. Me: "Why did you come up to me?" I actually was interested to know this……
10. Mr Dopey: "Well I needed somewhere to stay…."
11. OH MY GOD
12. Me: "Oh thanks…."
13. Mr Dopey: "Nooooooo man….I'm only joking….." Maybe….although he isn't funny enough to make it a joke. Great. I picked up a homeless person who I then text-stalked for a week. Can someone just exterminate me? Thanks
14. He wants to come over Tuesday night. Of course.
15. Tuesday night locked in. Don't ask.


The next day, I had five million things to do with Mardi Gras float orientation day and float rehearsals as well as picking up my cheap Mardi Gras party ticket…..got off a friend of Judy's for 100 bucks…instead of 150…..since it sold out, there are now tickets on ebay for $1500…..outrageous!

After putting down the phone on Mr Dopey, it was about 5.30 am. I was back up at 8am. I was delirious. 10Am. Mr Dopey calls again. It seems to be all or nothing with this one.

Mr D: Come over
Me: I can't
Mr D: Why not

(he'd already asked me this about 50 times the night before….me always saying, I can't …telling the whole Mardi gras story…over and over and over and over again)

Me : You know why
Mr D: Yeah…u can't cancel
Me : I can't cancel my own float.
Mr D: Ah yeah that's right….yeah can I go on the float?
Me: Ummmmm.....welll we may need some extra numbers….I will let you know
Mr D: And I need a ticket to the party…try and get me a ticket to the party….like it's sold out.

Oh my god he's telling me what to do already.

Me: Ok I will look out for one for you.... I've got to go
Mr D: Ok….so we're on for Tuesday night (Christ he remembers…he's a drunk with a memory…they're the worst of all): I've got uni first then I will come over.
Me : yes sounds good…I will text you my address. We'll speak before then. (I'll believe it when I see it. )

I end the conversation and tell him I will call him later that night.

He texted me during the day saying he's with friends and he will call me later. Ok cool….I didn't really need an update.

The whole Mardi gras day and night followed: I get home. I am absolutely rooted. I sent him a text to that affect. I went to bed. I didn't hear from him Monday.

Tuesday morning: I think…… perhaps I should text him and ask him if tonight is still on? Yes I know….am I mad? If you haven't worked it out by now……..yes I am…completely. Text: "So Mr Smith...are we still on for tonight?"

And do you think he responded or called? Na. I'm not surprised but slightly relieved yet confused all at the same time. Why bother interacting in the first place.

I still want my shirt back. It is one of my favourites. It is Judy. So I texted this morning:

Hi D. Didn't hear from you yesterday. No dramas but I would like that shirt back. You're welcome to post it. Let me know and I will send you my address.

Any response? Na

Do u think I will get my shirt back? Na

Do you think I care? Shut up Judy

C