Dull dull week

It's been a week of nights in, working on a freelance project that seemed fun when I started it months ago. Nights of crawling into bed at eleven, eyes running, grabbing a pack of fags and falling asleep over a book. Nights when "a bit of a treat" means two muller-lite.

They've been cheap, but, oh!, they have been dreary.

Thank god I no longer have broadband, otherwise I wouldn't have resisted using the Gaydar to order in. Bad, bad me.

But tonight is going to be different. For tonight, I am off to the 30th Birthday party of someone who I *really liked* when we were at school, *quite liked* when we were at univesity, and *rarely tolerate* ever since.

I hate it when a friendship just... changes. When what you admired about them inflates beyond recognition. I hate being out for drinks and thinking "Why can't you be how you used to be?"

Last time I saw this friend, I was biking home, and he was rollerblading. "Can't stop!" he boomed, "In training for the International Student Olympics!"

Apparently, he's written a novel. Rumour has it that its hero is based broadly on him, and is about his quest to find a woman worthy of him.

I go to attend his birthday party with some trepidation - I'm dying to be charmed and disarmed by him once more.

PS: I'm going to a cheesy birthday. Darian is going to the launch of a sauna.