Last night I watched our version of "Who Wants To Be a Millionaire" and lo and behold, in the middle, being questioned before the eyes of the entire nation, sat a girl - a girl I went to high school with from 7th all the way through 12th grade.

If you read the very first entry of my blog, you will come across the sentence "I didn't realize that I was feeling "weird" about her, until one day she sat down on my lap, in a very innocent friendship-like way, and this feeling shot through me from where her body touched my thighs all the way into my stomach, and from there a bit farther southwards, making me dizzy and, above all, rather confused. I pushed her off my lap, and that was that."

What a coincidence.

Anyway. I heard that she was going to be on from my mother, who called me the evening before. Apparently she made it to the middle on Friday already, and time ran out. So I called my best friend K (we all went to high school together), and while she was sweating over the questions, K and I were watching her, talking shit to each other over the phone.

I wonder how many of us who went to high school together coincidentally caught her on TV that night and started talking crap to other leftover friends who knew her too.

I guess that's one of the reasons I would never want to be on a popular show like that, cause holy shit, what if someone I know watches and I make an ass out of myself on national TV.

The thing is, you see, I was really curious about seeing her, because she has been a straight-A student throughout all these years, and out of all of us, if anybody would have made it in the world of highly academical brains and won the Nobel prize for the cure of cancer or AIDS, then it would have been her. She went from dumbo-eared extreme nerd who nobody would talk to or would want to be seen with to extremely popular all-sweetheart and show-off friend, who was invited to all the in-parties, when she changed her approach and started to let people copy her homework, and when she would help them cheat during tests - while always insuring her unchallenged superior status by letting the rest of us (and especially me) feel our own intellectual shortcomings with malicious little comments softened by a sweet all-encompassing smile.

Always having been part of the rather unpopular groups myself, I started to intensely dislike her the more she thought she was something better than we were due to her popularity. She started to shed her "nerd friends" like a young swan would shed its black feathers when it grows up, and when we all graduated I lost contact with her the second the gates of school closed behind me forever.

By way of hearsay I later learned that - instead of Medical University or Law School, which her mother would so have loved to see her in - she decided to pursue the career of "rhythmic instructor" for kindergarten kids, in other words: she teaches pre-schoolers how to clap their hands rhythmically, or play simple percussion instruments.

As far from any sort of scientific glamourous brainiac career as it can be, huh? Needless to say, her choice of career made many of us giggle in malicious glee, especially while thinking of her mother, whose every action seemed to have been driven by prestige and dreams of her famous and renowned brainiac daughter, and who seemed to define her own value through her daughter's high school grades.

Now, to take this a bit further, I have always wondered what came of the others I went to high school with. How much would they have changed, what would they do for a living, where and how would they live. Don't get me wrong, this thought is not ever present, but when it pops up, I always see all these popular kids with my mental eye, rich and famous and well off every one of them, having led a life nothing short of exciting ever since high school ended. In comparison to these concotions of my mind, I always feel insufficient, boring, and boorish. Nevermind the fact that I have spent 3 1/2 very excíting years in the US.

Back to the show. With K on the phone, our old friend walks up on stage together with the show host, and sits down. The camera zooms in on her face, and a first hint of relief starts to faintly enter my brain. Change? Not in her, for sure. The same hairstyle, the same style of clothing. If anything she looks extremely burgeois, conventional, boring. Exciting life ever since high school ended? At least not judging from her appearance.

Then she started to talk. I can tell she is very nervous, but I guess it would be weird if she weren't. The show host announces to the nation that she teaches little children how to clap their hands, she smiles, shrugs, agrees. I grin. How much better does "graphic designer" sound? Still I am thinking she will probably win the million. Knowing her and her endless fountain of general knowledge, she would totally make the million, without having used a single one of her jokers. She would probably just laugh at the simplicity of the questions, and wheeze through them, walking out a wealthy woman, leaving K and I insanely jealous and feeling unworthy and insufficient all over again, time magically turned back a good 8 years.

Let's just say that she used her 50/50 joker at the question that would push her up to 10000 €, and even though she used up both of her leftover jokers for the next question, 10000 is all she walked out with, visibly disappointed.

The question, you may wonder? What does RADAR stand for. Radio Detection and... reading? Ranging? Recycling? Realizing?

A question that couldn't be any more in the field of "general knowledge" that she always was so proud of being the unquestioned master of.

K and I had a really good laugh at her cluelessness, and her disappointed look. Ms. Knows-It-All, publically put in place on national TV.

And me? Some sort of "pressure of comparison" suddenly magically disappeared off my shoulders. The question of "how do I compare" suddenly seems ridiculous cause, holy shit, if my "nemesis" sucks big donkey balls on national TV, teaches pre-schoolers to rhythmically clap their hands, recently relocated to a little cow village outside of Vienna, and still wears the same clothes and hair she did 8 years ago - I don't think I fared too bad in comparison.

I studied on University. Went to Los Angeles to go to college. Played in a rock band and was interviewed several times, with a certain small degree of popularity in our circles. I came back with a Latino Fiancé. My English is better than that of all my old mates combined. If you compare a high school photo of mine with a current one, it's like looking at two entirely different people. I have a job through which my graphics are displayed in store windows all over the nation.

Was I ever even worried about going to my 10 year reunion?

The answer was ranging, btw. I knew that. And not, as you may think, because I spent such a long time in an English speaking country. I knew it because, dude, it's called general knowledge!

Depression. What a word, used so often so lightly, and inappropriately. I am not sure if I am using it inappropriately as well when it comes to myself, but rest assured that I have been thinking about getting a professional's opinion on that for... uh... years already.

It seems like my 3 1/2 years in the US have put a temporary halt on my mental and emotional degeneration, but now I am back here... back for good... and it seems like the good old black hole has been just waiting here with arms wide open, eager for my return.

Maybe it's just the weather, and the cold that I am not used to anymore. But the so called "winter depression" usually doesn't commence before January or February, when people can't deal with months of darkness and cold anymore, after so long. I don't know of anyone suffering from winter depression in October.

No, it's not that, really. It's also not a "bad mood". It's constant heartache, and this overwhelming feeling of loss. It's the old feeling of being insufficient and worthless that is following me around like a shadow ever since I dropped out of University, and that makes me cringe everytime I come even close to an academic building (- of which there are many, here), and which has left me alone for the most part while I was in LA.

It's this feeling of being lonely, misjudged, misunderstood. Feelings that are usually attributed only to young people going through puberty. But I am not. I am in my mid-twenties, and I have this distinct feeling that my life is over. That I am in a dead-end one-way street. Nothing will come from here, everything good has already happened.

And at the same time the knowledge that I have to keep this to myself for the most part, since nobody I try to talk with understands. They think I should be glad to be back here, they say I should be happy to have a job, they tell me it has been the logical choice, that there was nothing for me in LA with future, and they react irriated and angry when being faced with my melancholy and my longing for a place I cannot be at anymore. They tell me to "stop already, nobody can listen to this anymore".

So I am not letting them hear it. I smile. Hey, it's all good. And I guess it is - I guess I can consider myself lucky that I am not in the same state of mind that I have been in 4 years ago, when I didn't care if a car was coming while I was crossing heavy traffic streets without looking, and when open windows on high ground exerted an almost irresistable pull on me. I am also not carving into my arms anymore with scissors. So yes, I guess I am really lucky.

Of course, there is The Fiancé. What can I say about The Fiancé. I could say a lot, but I won't. Other than that he isn't helping, is not considerate of me in any way. And I, in turn, feel even worse for I am not able to be the same cheerful and happy person that he got to know and love, and I feel horrible for feeling so dead inside. Libido? I want start to cry when he touches me or kisses me, and I stop short of scratching his face, when he does.

Emotional health has a lot to do with it. How can I feel sensual or sexual, when my heart is being squeezed to death by iron claws. How can I feel sensual or sexual about him when he throws me one piece after another that feels like a dagger digging in between the iron claws, instead of him trying to help me to loosen the grip, try to lift me out of the hole I am in. All he does is toss dirt into it, really.

So when I am not emotionally okay with him, he isn't emotionally okay with me, in turn. But for me to be okay with him, I need to feel that he is okay with me, regardless. The only I way I know of to get him emotionally okay with me is to make him okay physically first, and now we're right there - caught in a vicious circle that I can't get out of: I am loathing it, "doing him favors", he knows that I am, loathes me for it, the problems get worse.

And of course, my way of deflecting the blows and the hurt and the numbness is to fight. I am never as aggressive and spiteful as I am when I feel beaten down on the ground the most. When I feel most overwhelmed, and most helpless. When I need a hug and tender, loving words the most. When my instincts tell me to crouch and hide and cry, I stand up straight and blow into everybody's face who "deserves to feel my wrath", of course earning more hurt in response.

And of course - the outside world wouldn't have a clue. Of course I am all smiles and enthusiasm about my relationship. My best friend said to me not too long ago that back then she didn't have a clue that my ex and I even had a hint of problems, until one day suddenly I called her crying, telling her that it was over, after 3-something years of "perfect world". She said to me that I wouldn't open up and spill out anything until way after the fact, when no good advice could help me anymore, or no friendly words could make me feel better anymore. And it's true. I am taking it, swallowing it down, trying to digest it all by myself, ignoring the growing ulcer. I have always done that. I would bite my tongue off rather than to call anyone and ask them to come over to talk with me, and in fact even in LA I have done it only twice with my best friend there. Twice in two years, and countless arguments...

I am still doing it now. Show no weakness. Avoid everything that may cause people to look down on you. Don't let people ridicule you for your shortcomings. Don't open up for a "I told you so". Don't let them tell you that you deserve it, because of the way you are. Don't give them grounds to attack you with your own weakness later.

That is why you will never see me seek professional counselling. I cannot open up to the people close to me (as close as I let them, anyway), the hell I will open up to a stranger whose only real interest is the money he's making off my problems. And speaking of money: who has enough for the kind of care that I would need? Aside from the fact that I can imagine few things more embarrassing than to go to my doctor, ask him for prescription counselling for depression, and him laughing at me, telling me I was only in a bad mood, and it'll go away.

You see how fucked up this is? I am scared of going to the doctor, for I am living in constant fear that I will be outed a hypochondriac, being exposed to more ridicule, nevermind the fact that I may be seriously ill. So I was scared to get my first eye exam after I told everybody "I think I need glasses", for fear that the doc might tell me I am only imagining my bad eye sight, so I was scared to go to the hospital with a half-burst appendix and didn't allow my mom to call the ambulance for fear the doc will laugh at me and tell me it was only gas, and so I am equally scared of getting my ears checked out next week, because I have told everybody I have bad hearing, and now I am scared the doc will not find my problem and say that I can hear perfectly fine, and I'll have people laugh at me and tell me that I just didn't *want* to hear certain things, under the "excuse" of bad hearing.

I am a walking issue, I swear.

Maybe I should really consider it, though. What good is it to keep constantly complaining about my emotional and mental status, when at the same time I am not ready to take the help that may be available to me. If there is a possibility for me to stop being a bother to my surroundings and I am not taking it, it is my own fault if my surroundings eventually turn away from me. If there is a possibility for me to feel better, I should try everything in my might to do so, for the sake of not only me, but everybody around me.

I apologize for boring you with this entry.

Holy shit. Kim and her overgrown and overaged sack of lard are not worth the pixel space her mentioned name on the right would take up in my list of people I encountered on my journey.

I will not go into detail, other than to say that in response to my nicely worded email (- this time I really took care not to be in any way offensive or blunt the way I usually am, because it's not their fault that I don't feel comfortable with their music and with their conditions) I got a long list of insults and accusations thrown back at me.

The gist of it was basically that with my "sucky performance" and my "attitude" and my "quick disappearance" after practice, and basically my "lack of minimum professionality" I "fucked up my one and only chance at making it in the Austrian music scene" and gave away a chance that "anybody else would have died for".

Um'kay.

I really wasn't going to waste my energy explaining myself, but the audacity of these assumptions made the arteries in my neck pulsate with irate vehemence, and I couldn't help myself.

First of all... did I ever claim to be a guitarist, or even a good one, at that? I said from the beginning that I SUCK on guitars, and that I haven't really played on one in years. Was I pretending to be a professional musician that needs the red carpet rolled out in front of me? Did I ever even ASK Mr. Austrostar for this glorious "one and only chance in the music scene"? Did I, with one word, say I wanted to play, and please, give me a chance, oh famous one?

I stated plainly and clearly that I suck on the guitar - but was I listened to? No. I was being brushed off, and put on their band website as their newest member without him having heard me play a single note. I said I was going to have a hard time playing this song, and I DID have a hard time playing this song. No pretending otherwise, no claiming otherwise. To be put down for it afterward, being told "you are unprofessional, you couldn't even play the intro the way it was supposed to be" is an insult that makes me question their mental capacities.

I never claimed I was something that I then didn't turn out to be - if I would have done that, they would have been justified with their accusations, alas, I did NOT.

Many things she said to me bugged me a lot, because they were unfounded and taken out of nowhere, probably pulled out of the mysterious depths of some lardy ass. I can take being insulted - if there is reason for it, and some sort of foundation. When I fuck up, I ususally know that I did, even if I do not openly admit to it, and I can take well-founded criticism and accusations.

What I CANNOT STAND FOR THE LIFE OF ME is random stuff born out of self-righteousness and star-attitude. Holy shit, I bow to you, oh Master of the Scene... thou art wise and famous, and please taketh me under your wing and maketh me in your image.

WTF???

To be made seem like I desperately begged for a chance on stage, and then messed up The Greatest Thing That Ever Has And Will Ever Happen To Me™ and "messed things up beyond repair" with my Grand Benefactor™ is what bugs me most about this, and it is also what prompted me to explain myself - this time sans all niceties and respectful politeness that I displayed in my last email.

Of course The Fiancé thought it was extremely rude to end my email with "good luck with finding someone who doesn't mind a 300 kg meatball the age of her own father, and is able to get off with you despite its presence". Of course he got mad because I took this matter in my own hands without "consulting" him first, but if I would have "consulted" him he would have just kept me from righteously avenging myself and my honor, and getting back at them for their audacities, because The Fiancé is just too godamn nice to every walking piece of turd out there.

The sad thing is, despite all my attempts at becoming more social and open towards meeting new people, this little unpleasant episode has done nothing but to confirm my general distaste for the human race in general, and the integrity of people around me in particular.

With only a very few execptions containing my family and a very, very few and select friends, I have proven to be a turd magnet. People I thought I knew well enough to deem trustworthy suddenly turned around on me to crap on my head, it's a pattern that has repeated itself throughout my personal history, and it has made me very wary of meeting new people, and opening up to them.

Good thing that in this case I have kept my guard up and impenetrable the entire time - and as it seems this "fault" of mine turned into a big advantage this time.

I swear, put me on a secluded island with none other but my close family, The Fiancé, and the only 5 people that have never once turned their backs on me or deliberately hurt me in any way, I'd be the happiest little hermit in the Universe.

Okay... the first change, which is less significant to the topic at hand, but significant to you, dear reader, is that I have changed the settings of my comments, so now you will have to confirm by typing in a word provided in graphic form by the system. I have been getting comment spam lately, and since I do not know of a way in Blogger to ban certain IPs, I am trying it this way. If this isn't going to help, I will either turn off comments completely, or set them to registered Blogger users only. I would hate to do that though, so let's see if the word confirmation will help, for now.

Now, about the real change: I have/am in the process of breaking off contact to Kim and Mr. Austrostar. The exact reasons of which I cannot really pinpoint. It may be because when I went to rehearsal with Mr. Austrostar I felt extremely uncomfortable, out of place, and most of all: pushed to do things I didn't want to do. When I say "I will not sing", then it means "I will not sing", and no amounts of "awe, but you were good", "you were doing a great job", and "awe, c'mon" will change that. I do not like people who cannot/don't want to accept a "no" for what it is, and when I left and I heard "so we'll see you on stage behind a microphone on Saturday, end of story" it broke the camel's back as far as I was concerned. The music in itself isn't anything I would privately listen to, but that would have been something to ignore, to live with, if all the other circumstances would have been okay.

This wasn't so much Mr. Austrostar's fault, more the one of the girls in the band, but he didn't help me out much... not at all, to tell the truth. It has been a while since I felt so out of place with people, and what it all boils down to is that I do not want to spend the little spare time that I have doing something I am not comfortable with, and that I have to fight with myself over, to get myself to do it. So when I couldn't reach Kim on the phone on Saturday, and nobody replied to my text messages regarding the concert either, I decided not to put too much effort into trying to get in touch with any of them, and just stayed at home instead - feeling hugely relieved and satisfied.

To tell you the truth - I liked Kim and I wouldn't have minded having some fun with her, but the more often I met her, the less sexually attracted I felt to her. She is just so... goddamn cute, little fluffy bunny kind of cute, and cute litte fluffy bunnies are the last thing I am sexually aroused by.

And of course the arrangement of Mr. Austrostar needing to be present during "action" at all times never sat too well with me from the beginning. I am not a show girl, and I don't want to be made feel like one. The thought of having him watch and most likely get sexually aroused by whatever I am doing for myself gives me the heebie-jeebies like few other things I can imagine would. So there are times when, despite wide open doors of opportunity, one has to know when to close one again without walking through. This experience I am waiting so desperately for is not something I want to rush, and then have happen under conditions that I do not agree with, and cannot submit myself to. It will happen, when the time is right, and only under conditions and circumstances that I am 100% comfortable with, not 1% less.

That, at least, I owe to myself. Due to my nature, I am now having a second chance at a "first time", and I will not let this one happen the way I carelessly and thoughtlessly rushed through the other one - but that is a story that I may talk about another time.

What is really awkward here? Is it her approaching me in any way she can, sitting by my feet with her head on my lap and her arms around me, tenderly caressing my back while I gently stroke her hair out of her face and behind her ear, or is it The Fiancé sitting on the couch across, talking with Mr. Austrostar about unrelated things, like nothing weird is going on?

Is it the tingeling I felt when she gently stroked my thighs right where her cheek was resting by my crotch?

Was it the sudden hot and reddening thought of oh god, what if my (parents, friends, relatives, WHOEVER...) could see me like this, which I couldn't quite rid myself of anymore once it flashed into my brain?

How weird is it to kiss someone goodbye on the lips, and then walk out arm in arm with someone else?

How weird is it to somehow finally see secret thoughts translated into real life happenings?

How weird is it to want to run away screaming, while at the same time wanting to turn off all conscious thought and just give myself to whatever it is that is pushing itself to happen?

I am torn between hiding behind The Fiancé and his safe maleness, and spreading myself out in front of this new thing, this thing that has been happening in my brain so many countless times now, and is now within the very reach of my fingertip...

On the way home, now kissed by a total of two girls in my life, I asked The Fiancé how he felt about all this, seeing my sitting on the lap of another person, her lips on my neck, our hands entertwined. He admitted to a certain awkwardness seeing someone else touching his woman, but no jealousy at all. Tell me, how does it feel... I don't know, I will have to think about the answer to this... Then he smiled, put his arm around me... and spent all night wrapped tightly around me, lovingly, protectively, just the way I love to sleep with him best.

So how does it feel... I am dazed and confused. Kim is nothing like Jo, there is nothing of this spellbound attraction that would make me so painfully tongue-tied, oogling and drooling in her presence... that would make my heart sting at the very thought of her and being with her. She does not captivate my mind and my dreams the way Jo did. She does not provoke wild passionate phantasies of chivalry and seduction. The thought of her does not make my hand wander inbetween my legs as if moved by some mysterious higher force the way the thought of Jo did. Yet she is attractive and cute, tall enough not to make me feel like a freak, chunky enough not to make me feel fat, and she is funny and very smart. Her touch is exciting, and makes me shiver at the thought of more. Her gaze is captivating, making me nervous enough to try to escape it everytime I feel it taking hold of mine. It is fun to be around her, and fun to see what her next step would be - for that is all it really is: her taking things a bit further, see if I would play along, and then taking them further yet.

The Fiancé says not to think too much - neither about Kim, nor about the musical doors suddenly opening in front of me, the opportunities presenting themselves on a golden platter, almost. I'll heed his advice, and just go with the flow.

If I can...

Holding hands and cuddling now. In public. A little innocent touching. Weird, holding hands with someone other than The Fiancé - and all that right in front of him.

Otherwise: feels perfectly natural, not weird at all. :)

Is it getting easier because I've done it a few times by now, or because I got more self-confident and less self-conscious about who and what I am, or because it was my best friend I was talking with?

Either way... yesterday as I was talking with her on the phone, I briefly mentioned Mr. Austrostar and the opportunity I am having through him, and upon her questioning I answered on how I got in touch with these people.

K said: "But... you know what kind of contacts from women you would get via such single websites, don't you??? I mean... they are looking for sex partners there, not friends..."

I said: "Oh, yeah."

She said: nothing.

Then we had to hang up because the boss came in and I had to get back to the Desk o'Slavery™, and that was that. Today she called me back on something unrelated, and as I was about to hang up she intercepted and verbally pointed at what I had said to her the other day.

I said: "Oh... I thought I already told you that a long time ago?" All innocence. Of course I hadn't, but by asking her if I did, it made it all somehow seem much more matter of factly, much more established than it really is. She laughed and said: "Well, what woman doesn't have feelings like that. I went through my phase a long time ago."

Girl, I ain't going through no phase.

She said: "Does The Fiancé know about this???" My answer to which I think shocked her, for she said: "Geez, you people are perverts."

Why yes, we are - at least in theory. *grins*

It turned out to be a decent evening, with no reason to be overly nervous about. We ended up watching an unfinished and unedited film of his band... him on a chair, The Fiancé and I on the couch... and Kim and I tentatively snuggled together on the couch as well.

Tentatively... shoulder to shoulder, that is.

I have to admit, I didn't feel 100% comfortable, and found myself seeking out physical contact with The Fiancé at the same time, even though I liked just lounging around with her like that. I kept my feet on his lap, feeling him sort of as an anchor to everything I am used to and feel comfortable with.

I wouldn't have minded getting a bit more cuddly with her, but I guess the #1 factor that made me feel so uneasy was Mr. Austrostar's presence. I guess I just don't want something so important to my life to be lecherously observed by a male that I do not know and am physically quite disgusted with, and the last thing I felt like doing was to make a show out of something so personal and important to a stranger.

I guess it could be different, if I had already made my experiences before, and know what I am getting into. But as it is, even cuddling with a girl on the couch is so new and exciting to me, that I feel like a little teenager experiencing a "first time this" and "first time that" all over again. I am much too insecure with myself in this regard than to do anything in front of a stranger.

Heck... even she is a stranger to me.

I guess I really want to take things slow. We had a fun evening and it seems like a friendship can truly develop from this. The Fiancé seems to be getting along great with Mr. Austrostar, and I really like his character and attitude as well. I would like to spend more time with both of them, but when I think about taking things a bit further with her, I really want this to be a private and intimate thing between her, me, and The Fiancé. Or just her and me alone. Of course I do not know what their couple-policy is on this, but I am not in a rush to find out at the moment. If anything, I'll just go with the flow, and see whatever is comfortable. We hugged quite intensely and flirtatiously when we said our good-byes later that evening, and I was quite happy with that.

We made love later, in the comfortable familiarity of our bedroom. It was beautiful as it hadn't been for quite some time now. I held on to his maleness and roughness on top of me like a drowning person to a life saver. The familiarity of his male body, the confidence and experience I have with handling it. The heaviness of it, his manly scent. All that to divert from the intense confusion I felt yesterday, even though I felt so comfy and cuddly with her, happy that I finally got to know someone who seems equally interested in me as I am in her.

I am a bit diappointed with these confused physical sensations. I wanted for her to just have her way with me, yet at the same time the thought of an actual flesh-and-blood girl caressing me the way I have so often fantasized about raised every single hair on the back of my neck, now that I was finally faced with the possibility. I am not sure what to make of this, but I am looking forward to further explorations.

So, as I have mentioned in my last entry, we are scheduled today to meet Kim and Mr. Austrostar at their record store in the city, once I get out of the office... the cheerful event of which is scheduled in about an hour.

Since Saturday Kim and I have been text messaging and emailing. They make the impression that they are looking forward to meeting us again just as much as we are, and this feels very good and refreshing. However... panic is spreading within me like a nasty disease. She has started to flirt with me via email, and from the moment I read "well, I'll just be really nice to you tonight, so you can forget about your day" in an email today, I have a) made a fool out of myself by composing idiotic and stumbling-over-my-own-words nervous response emails to which she seemed to react a bit offended, and b) my stomach is suddenly making nasty blubbering noises, paired with painful cramping, which I blame on her revelation of "niceness" 100%.

So I am sitting here, trying to put what exactly I am feeling right now into words, but somehow the right description doesn't come to me. I wanna call up The Fiancé and tell him that I am feeling sick and that I don't wanna go. But that would be a lie. And a big one, too. It would just show what a goddamn chicken I am. I wanna email her again and tell her that I am sorry for my clumsy responses, but that this is all that can be expected from a "virgin" like me, and that I am excited, yet scared out of my mind. But that would be taking things too far, too fast, and too seriously, and I don't want to leave such an impression either. I want for a deep dark hole to open in front of me and swallow me whole - though I realize that in such a situation this sentence can be interpreted in all the wrong ways just as well... *laughs*

Why am I trippin', you wonder? I guess I haven't mentioned that after visiting them at their record store we are invited over to their place to hang out and watch videos. Without knowing anything about later tonight, I am scared to death that a) nothing will happen at all and once again I will be left feeling like an idiot for extending unreturned affection, and b) I am scared that something will happen... something... any bloody thing at all.

Not to mention that the mere thought of anything remotely girly happening (- not particulary tonight, I mean in general) with Mr. Austrostar present is giving me the heeby-jeebies. Much as I am attracted to her, he makes any hint of a sexual thought go away before it can even come to the surface. I admire people like Kim who can apparently look beyond the appearance of men and love them for who they are, and I do think that he is an awesome character - but at least 300 lbs. extra on an old guy don't really get my juices going at all, if you know what I mean. Yet at the same time I understand - much as I want for The Fiancé to be around lest it be cheating on him, she operates on quite the same basis. An eye for an eye.

Alas... I should probably relax and prepare for a nice evening watching American television. Or is that a naive notion?

Can it be that finally something goes right in this "secret" part of my life?

Internet, let me tell you one thing: she is gorgeous, really funny, smart, and speaks the best English I have heard any Austrian other than me speak so far. Loves LA, knows a lot about it. Likes our home town just as much as I do - which by now you should know means not at all, for very much the same reasons as me.

From the beginning? We were supposed to meet at this Churrascaria at 6pm, The Fiancé and I got there 10 minutes late because I got lost in my own city - again. The venue was pretty much empty, with the exception of a larger group of people at a table, and a couple. The lady fit the pictures I have seen of my date just perfectly, and she was already looking in our direction with a smile... but that guy? This old fat guy? I was slightly confused... this couldn't possibly be her boyfriend... and why does he look a bit familiar?

And how expensive would that evening be for me... Churrascarias are known to be very pricey eateries, and why in the hell didn't I oppose to such a huge expense in the first place?

But we approach, and yes, the old guy was indeed her boyfriend. We introduce each other, and during the 15 servings of different meats that were about to follow, it was soon clear that this was going to be a very nice evening. The old guy was funny as hell, and very pleasant, and I realize that their relationship probably isn't based on physical attraction, but the way he was carrying himself. Wonderful English by both of them... so The Fiancé didn't feel left out at all. A lot of talk about places in LA, a lot of connecting over this, and our shared distaste of my hometown's mentality.

She is really cute... almost my height, dark hair, blue eyes, about my own body type. He is... well... unexpected. I don't know what I was expecting, but certainly not this. Then, the surprise of the evening. She told me in one of her emails that her boyfriend was playing in a band. Big deal? How many people do play in a band... I automatically assumed "garage band" and didn't think much of it, other than "cool, getting to know someone trying to make it in the local scene".

So he told The Fiancé about his band... and that they are quite known in Austria. I was thinking yeah, right, and asked him to name this band of his. They ain't "popular" if I haven't heard of them, so try me.

The name that then came out of his mouth almost made me drop my fork onto my plate, followed by whatever it was I was busy chewing at that time. NO WAY!!! Hence the slight familiarity when I saw him... NO WAY!!! Really??? Yes, really. (And yes, really indeed... I looked them up as soon as I got home, and there was his picture indeed... NO WAY!!!)

Some of you may be familiar with the Austrian singer Falco... you know, the only Austrian musician to ever have a #1 hit in the United States, in the Eighties. Does "Rock me, Amadeus" ring a bell with some of you? Well, the band that this guy is playing with... Falco has been a member of it for years before he went solo, and finally died.

They have been around since the Sixties, and have turned into some kind of "legend" around these parts. Above all they are a WEIRD band, which is really hard to describe in its entirety. They have sex on stage, and whippings, and people dressed up as the Pope, and beatings of nuns. They are really more of a political statement than just a band, almost an institution against normalcy and conventions.

NO WAY!!!

Here I was, on a date with a really sweet girl, dining with a member of "Drahdiwaberl".

It was very surreal, to say the least. Very much fun, and very pleasant though, and I got the same vibes back from both of them. Good conversations, no awkwardness, no negativity. They asked us when we would like to hang out again, and we will meet them at their record store in the city on Monday. When the bill came, he pulled out a 100 Euro note from a stack of them, and paid for us like it was nothing, refusing all offerings of money for the night. We even shared a taxi home, something that wasn't necessary at all, seeing as we live only a 20 minute walk away from the restaurant, and after all these amounts of food I actually wouldn't have minded that walk. But they wouldn't hear of that either... so I ended up on the backseat of the taxi, wedged between The Fiancé and her... let's call her Kim for the heck of it. We were complaining about the cold, so all of a sudden I had her snuggle into my side for a second, with her head on my shoulder, which made me smile. We parted with two good smooches onto our cheeks, and I have to say I enjoyed myself so much tonight, I am looking forward to Monday.

I am really pleasantly surprised. Kim is much cuter and prettier than she was on the pictures she has sent me, and we got along great - at least that's my take on this. And her boyfriend does not simply play in "a band", but is a member of one of the most famous bands in Vienna, and considering that I still have faint intentions of getting started in the music business, being friends with such a personality can only be beneficial.

Did I mention that he asked me if I would be interested in playing guitar in his second band on occasion?

And that they invited us to their next show, to get in for free, and go on their very own tour bus with them?

But aside from all of that... I am positive that this time around it's not just me going after some fantasy, or unrealistic hopes. I am almost convinced that the Amy desaster will not repeat itself with Kim, and I am very happy about the fact that not only I find her to be very cute and pretty and fun, I am also quite attracted to her phyically.

Can it be...? Really...?

I have decided to participate with a photo submission this year. Luckily, I do not have nor do I know anyone suffering from breast cancer, but there are several surivors of different kinds of cancer in my circle of friends and acquaintances, not to mention my own intenstinal cancer scare 4 years ago.

Awareness is always the first step.

Here is my submission: