Carribean, critics and call back

Saw the pirate movie last night, yes wearing my new knickers at the same time, very accessorised movie watching. Lost my pedometer for THE SECOND TIME (ie lost my second pedometer). I hope it has fun hanging out with the woollen shawl, fluffy gloves, pale brown scarf, travellers mug and memory stick that I have also lost so far this year in transit. Woops. Apart from that it was fun to go with a gaggle of girls who all either squirmed and squealed in the scary bits or laughed salaciously at any passing double entendres. Busy working women from all sides of metro syd, in various stages of house rennos, partnership, swinging singledom, united briefly by the magnetising pull of a certain actor in kohl. Mmmmm.

This afternoon I went into a bookshop on the main street to see whether the note I slipped under the door in the week, requesting that a book from the window be put on hold for me till Saturday, had worked. He found the book and then pulled out my note with a flourish, looking over his half glasses, fingers sticking out of fingerless gloves. " 'Dear Brian, I pass your shop early every morning on the way to the train' - Well I didn't really need to know that did I?" he says cheerfully, like a classics tutor checking my translations of Dante and relishing the finding some sloppy work.
" .." I said back - gobsmacked.
" 'I saw the Fritjop Capra in the window, and have been looking for a copy for a while...' and I didn't really need to know that either..' he said, chirpily, as I stand there wishing he'd just sell me the frigging book and shut up.
"..You can't handle your ink" he informs me, and I am miffed that he has used such a good line, which I have never heard before but wish I'd made up, and annoyed that he's said it about me, and annoyed that it is very likely true. After all, I do tend to gush ink liberally, regularly cross the 'too much information' line, am a bit of a two Bic screamer etc., but WHO IS HE to tell me so??
"'..Could you put it on hold for me..blah blah.. phone number..(mumblemumble).'" he reads.
" 'Message only?'" he remarks, reading the last little freckle of my note which I had put in brackets next to the number in an attempt to communiate the fact that no one would answer said phone number. "What does that mean?"
"Well you don't really need to know, do you?" I say, meaning, I'm here, I have the book now, and he laughs, his little yes crinkled behind glasses, framed by a fire engine red cap and English schoolboy cheeks.
"Oh yes, very good. Touche!"

I make the most of the temporary win and run away before we start in some surreal haiku-off or he talks to me about a school of philosphoy which makes my brain hurt. Brian is not someone you want to get into a conversation with on a sleepy Saturday before you've had breakfast.

Speaking of phone messages, had another one from date guy re catch up options. On the one hand feel like I should applaud his persistence and proactive approach, maybe loosen up, be open minded and get to know him better.. but also thinking I wish he would meet some nice chicken enthusiast and stop calling me. Feeling all confused now about what I'm doing and why. Friend's parner asked me this arvo 'Do you not like him, or do you like him too much and you're scared?'. Ah, um..? Neither? Um, scared of waking up next week with a serious boyfriend and a life mapped out in front of me, and it could be him. Scared that I could slide into something out of laziness and lack of ability to say no to lunch dates. Scared I might talk myself into it out of bowing to convention ('oh well, he's niiice, he'd be ok' says my sensible inner voice). Aware that I might pass up this (or other) good sensible propositions waiting for some ellusive spark and synchronicity which may not exist. Just, you know, generally confused.