Oh for the love of God

OK i am officially bored of T now. The silent treatment lasted from saturday until Tuesday, when he texts me saying its Pancake Day (do we only have that in England?) and would I like to come round to make some pancakes with him. I've been known to demolish a few pancakes in my time so was totally keen for some carbohydrate action. So that night I meet up with him, we go to the supermarket to buy the ingredients and some vino, go back to his. I meet his stoner flatmate (I quote: "So, like, I've been watching a lot of planet documentaries lately. I think I spent like two whole days watching shit about the moon. That shit is wack'). Before you know it, all T's friends are over, and me and him are slaving away in the kitchen flipping pancakes and drinking wine. It suddenly dawns on me that my role in the evening is to provide the men with pancakes. This is definitely not how I roll. But anyway we're having fun in the kitchen, gradually getting pretty drunk, its all good. Two and a half hours later, we decide to join in the party. Sitting on the sofa, he puts his legs on my lap (by the way, where the hell do you put your hands when someone does that? Resting them on his legs feels waaayy too coupley, but then for there to be no contact you have to sit there with your arms crossed looking all uptight. I just don't know). Anyway, his friends obviously think there's something going on and decide they should go play football out on the street, thus leaving us alone. T kinda freaks out and immediately sits upright and is like 'no we'll come with you, i'm walking her to the taxi anyway' - I had said a few minutes before I would probably leave soon. Its like the whole world can see something is going on between us, or should be going on, except him of course. So we leave, he walks me to the corner, hails a cab, kisses me on the cheek, and I go. So no kiss, nothing. I mean really, what?! He invites me round, we spend 2 hours cooking pancakes for his friends while they get high, he's all coupley with me on the sofa, and then nothing?! Surely we aren't just friends. I definitely don't do things like that with my guy friends in the UK. 

Oh, and he mentioned my little strop on Friday night... 'What was up with you? You just seemed really angry'. I feigned ignorance and played it cool, until I tripped over on the pavement...twice)

OK so the next day its Wednesday, aka quiz night. I get there to find my usual team has enough members and I am thus SHUNNED aside. Luckily T's lovely friend is there already and says I should join them. So yeah, spent wednesday night doing the quiz with T and all his friends, and 2 of my friends joined us too. This random stoner dude started chatting me up (Chat up line: So, where can I get some decent pot around here?). Weird, considering I was wearing a cardigan with bows on it, and a knee length skirt, and pretty much looked like my mother. Not the usual stoner type. Though back in the day my mother was known to wack on a pair of leather pants and smoke a doobie or two. I think T got a bit jealous and was like 'oh you must have missed that part of the convo, as you were talking to THAT guy. What did he say to you anyway?'. Anyway, I had to leave earlier than usual as I had an exam on Thursday morning (yes I am a closet geek). We say bye, I leave, obviously no kissing or anything.

Then today, Thursday, he texts asking what my plans for the day are as he's pulled a sicky from work. By this point I've officially given up trying to be aloof or cool (probably the two words that describe me the least). My flatmate has just gone away for 4 days so I tell him I am embarking on my 4 days of solitude, and  and I vote he keeps me company and when will he grace me with his presence. He says that gets his vote, and friday night saturday and sunday 'all look good for gracing you'. So i suggest he comes over friday night to make sure my apartment is up to scratch before I potentially host a little shindig on saturday night. He replies, sounds good, but there's talk of a drum and bass night on friday night and i'll feel right at home there (its at my favourite music venue in Beijing). 

So, to summarise: it is impossible to get him alone. I think he's actually scared of me. Or maybe he now sees me as one of the guys. Neither of those options are good.

So there we are. My norwegian buddy Jonas reckons I just ask him straight out whats going on. My sister and flatmate agree. I agree. Slight problem: I am never alone with him. And I don't want to do it when we're out and drunk, because then I may slip into drunken stroppy little madam territory and that doesn't end well, as I now know from previous experience.

I am just BORED of this now. I don't even think I fancy him anymore. I mean, he carries a leather handbag. Oops, I mean manbag. He ain't no rugby player, if you know what i'm saying.

But I am stubborn, and I am now on a mission I cannot quit. I hate quitters.