It’s been a bit of a month hasn’t it.
Well it seems like it anyway.
Relationship on the rocks, now steady as a strong ship on a swift sea in a smooth wind (having been on the ‘high seas’ now I can successfully use maritime metaphors without feeling a fool); Job has been off and on, more days sitting at home, in a spa or out to lunch with friends, in bed with strangers than actually earning a living. So how can more lies have crept into my crypt of crap?
Very simple.
Three days ago it was my birthday. It was a lovely quiet affiar.
Dinner plan was as follows:
Gay friend Paul’s Heterosexual (and hot) Scottish friend ‘Irv’.MR. Me. Gay friend Paul.
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|………………….tepanyaki ………………………|
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Jenny (mutual friend and lawyer). MR’s sister. My little brother (who is trying to get into the music business). Mr E (invited on a whim for the brother to chat to about recording contracts – never invite fuckbuddies to sit in the same room as serious partner !)
Of course all but the little Bro and MR think I’m two years younger than I actually am.
You, oh non judgmental internet readers, might think that I’m incapable of telling a straight truth. This might be the case. I’m sort of okay with that. Only because it is something that isn’t generally important.
It’s normally no big deal that I am actually now 27 when the world thinks I’m 25. but that night it felt like an elephant in the room.
With the weight of the ‘other’ lie on my shoulders i was sweating oddly.
MR kept leaning over to me and wrapping his arm against me. He kept looking at me with concern.
“You alright?” he kept asking as I turned my nose up at the egg roll chucking, (it’s not normally like me to pass up and attempt to have something flung at my face – read innuendo into that if you must).
“Just got stuff on my mind.” I told him. And hell had I.
So it comes down to the dessert, he orders me ice cream. The Scottish guy is in deep conversation with Jenny – I’m suspecting highly that they will spend the night together, there’s a lot of discrete hand touching across the table, some amusing tete-a-tetes over miso. My brother is trying to pimp his demo to E, it’s cute to watch, but he should really shave the beard. And gay Paul is sitting in keeps leaning over and making amusing comments about the chef.
It’s about this time everyone sings happy birthday. Most of the people in the restaurant join in. I turn the color of hot sauce and my gut does a somersault.
By the time the green tea was being passed around I was borderline in tears.
Seriously – it’s been one of those months.
i’m not an attention seeker…much…so I tried not to be seen as emotional.
Bless Paul. “There’s always botox.” he said, leaning in. “You’re just a year older, you’re no less glorious.”
I laughed.
“They’ll need double the strength.” I replied, “Twenty seven today.”
There was a pleasantly stunned silence.
Mr E was mid cake. Jenny’s foot probably fell out of HotScot’s Crotch.
“and I used to be a woman.” MR said, slurping at his green tea.
His sister kicked him.
“What!” He said, “My name was Sinaed.”
“You’re a dick.” She clarifed. “Fact.”
I love him.
I really, really love him.
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1) I am not a celebrity.
2) I have a real life.
3) My name is not Missy.
Actually you all go for the name first… so cliché. My real name is not Missy.
When it came time to disclose my name on this page I first thought of the deep secrets revealed and then thought of how insane it would be to attach my real name to them. Missy saved me, so Missy I shall be as far as you are concerned. That’s as much as you need to know. Suffice to say if it was my real name I would have gone coco-loco-mococo on my parents a while ago with a pitchfork.
I don’t own a pitchfork.
But I would buy one, especially for the job, if my name was actually Missy, which it’s not.
Of course this could be a cunning double-slash-triple bluff, and therefore entirely likely that
1) I AM a celebrity
2) Everything I say is a lie
3) My name IS Missy.
Check local Pitchfork sales for the truth.
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