HELLO HAMILTON.
I'm back.
Hopefully that means that over the next week or two (well, two weeks + two days that I have remaining) I'll get into some sort of blogging habit and you guys will have something exciting to read. Okay, yeah that won't happen. GO HERE INSTEAD. Seriously.
But anyway, for now, I'll write about something mildly related to the post title.
You may have realised that I don't really surround myself with people. Yes, occasionally I mention Thom, and Sophie, and Jelle, but don't fool yourselves into thinking I actually see these people on a regular basis (Jelle being the exception, because between about the 9th and 19th of June, I don't think I saw anyone else. Besides maybe the people at Mei Wah Takeaways, where I order my meal in Mandarin Chinese and don't get funny looks, which I like). It's been more than six months since I saw Thom OR Sophie, but I do get to talk to them through the magical technology known as texting sometimes (actually, I don't have Sophie's number anymore, so Thom will you be a dear and text it to me? Thanks).
There's a reason for this, and it's because people just aren't my thing. Actinoids, as a general rule, are. I like kittens and I like showers, but people are kind of a grey area I could do without. Even as a like, four-year-old, I wasn't your average four-year-old who made a new best friend every day based on what toys they had (well, that's what the Plunket book says average four-year-olds do). I had one friend from the earliest memory I have and that's how I liked it. When she went on to make another friend (when we were like, I don't know, seven), I wasn't happy about it. But eventually I think I decided that her new friend could be my new friend and so until the age of eleven I had two friends. Then I had one friend from then until she left our high school in bizarre circumstances...
You get the picture. The fact that I like more than one person enough to consider them a friend is pretty incredulous. But it's not completely unfounded. I do feel a little bit raped by people in general, and that's because on the odd occasion where I have thought I liked someone enough for them to become a friend, it's ended not-so-well. Like I dunno - I give them a ride to somewhere REALLY out of the way, without asking for petrol money, they don't say thanks or text me again for at least six weeks before they need a ride at 3am to the Auckland Airport, and then when they've left the country they only text me because they don't know what to do because they think they might be pregnant (this has happened, and I'm still SO perplexed as to why more than one person in my life has ever asked me what they should do when they think they might be pregnant. I mean, really. Do I seem like the kind of person who's in any sort of position to get pregnant? Pretty sure you need to be... uh, *intimate* with someone for that. And if you know me, you know it's a blindingly obvious fact that no fertile males get intimate with me).
You get the picture. The fact that I like more than one person enough to consider them a friend is pretty incredulous. But it's not completely unfounded. I do feel a little bit raped by people in general, and that's because on the odd occasion where I have thought I liked someone enough for them to become a friend, it's ended not-so-well. Like I dunno - I give them a ride to somewhere REALLY out of the way, without asking for petrol money, they don't say thanks or text me again for at least six weeks before they need a ride at 3am to the Auckland Airport, and then when they've left the country they only text me because they don't know what to do because they think they might be pregnant (this has happened, and I'm still SO perplexed as to why more than one person in my life has ever asked me what they should do when they think they might be pregnant. I mean, really. Do I seem like the kind of person who's in any sort of position to get pregnant? Pretty sure you need to be... uh, *intimate* with someone for that. And if you know me, you know it's a blindingly obvious fact that no fertile males get intimate with me).
You may also have a distant memory of me being a competitive triathlete. Triathlon is a sport that markets itself as accessible, and it may be for that reason that during my competitive days, I had one or more "friends" claim they would either compete at races with me, or at the very least come along and watch. I pretty much NEVER say I will attend races to watch, because it's boring and dumb - the obvious exception being XTERRA, and that's so I can write fun blog posts when Nic Leary dominates. But for every single weekend during one season, I had at least one person say they would come. And I can tell you right now that I attended every single race that season alone. I had people pull out on the Thursday before a Saturday race because they wanted to go and get wasted on Friday night instead of doing a race the next day (which would be fine, if they hadn't "promised" to drive me there with all my racing gear). I had people who just conveniently weren't at home when I went to pick them up the night before, who conveniently ignored my text saying "I'm at your house, are you ready to go?" for six days following, eventually sending some sort of "lol, I lost my phone!" response. The worst may have been when someone had "promised" me accommodation, then told me two nights before that they actually couldn't, leaving me to stay in one of Rotorua's finest hotels rather than the Thermal Holiday Park/Dive I normally habit for races. I wouldn't have minded, had it not set me back a weeks' worth of pay.
Most recently, I had a friend fairly bully me into doing a race with her - yes, with her. It wasn't like I was going to do the race and she fancied entering too - she told me to enter because she already had. Then about five days prior to said race - which I did minimal training for because well, she's waaay crapper (yep, that was crapper. Not crappier) at running than me, and well, I have a boyfriend and when you have a boyfriend there are way better things to do than train for a running race you were fairly bullied into - she pulled out. Turned out she hadn't in fact entered. Oh, good. I'm so glad I paid to enter a race I didn't really want to do, as well as paying for a bus ride to the race city. Said "friend" then texted me the night before the race asking if I wanted to go to a party, then out clubbing. Ahem. And oh, she couldn't even come and watch me run. To be honest I can't blame her for the latter, but still! As it happened, I ran an awful race, tore a calf muscle and ran so far over my PB that I actually had to think about Thom yelling "lip slip" while we were shooting a film in Katikati last year to stop me crying as I crossed the finish line.
And then I got food poisoning, and ironically it was someone I don't particularly like who drove me to the hospital in the dead of the night and waited with me for six hours.
Anyway.
Said friend from the fun running story just asked me to run another race with her today.
No. Fucking. Way.
I am sick of you people, and your ridiculous inability to actually commit to something, then fucking text me when you think you might be pregnant. Be responsible. Heard of condoms? Or the Pill? Or like, fucking abstinence? AND, I don't know anything about pregnancy, or abortion, or rearing younglings. Even if I did, why should I impart my knowledge with you, if you're not even going to be at home when I come to pick you up for a triathlon?!
And this is why, for the most part, I fly solo.
Yup, as per usual, Jelle is the exception to the rule, because, apart from almost daily kind of hilarious misunderstandings (sometimes caused by his crappy English, and sometimes by the fact that right now we communicate via MSN Messenger) he tends to not be shit and unreliable.
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