Boy friends and eyeliner - project me day 207

Pretty but impractical vs Dud gay best friend

If you ask Greggie his first impression of me when we met he'll say he thought I was a drama queen, which is so cheap coming from a queen. Granted, it's difficult to tell that Greggie is gay unless you have brilliant gaydar or are in close proximity of a Shirley Bassey song. I know I've said it before, but my image of the perfect gay guy/straight girl friendship was Will and Grace. Just remove the totally?codependent, inability to tell each other the truth and very much?dysfunctional and totally?unhealthy friendship, Greggie and I are pretty much Will and Grace.

Greggie calls me pretty but impractical and I refer to him as my dud gay best friend.
Okay, so I find it more?important to look pretty for a meeting and freeze my butt off. Emails need to have a rocking signature even thought it is steering towards being the size of a hefty?attachment. Mine isn't life threating at all, it's not even relevant. The dud gay best friend thing ... now that's potentially?detrimental?if not on form.
Unbelievably, I can mention way too many times that I've been horrified at Greggie's lack of gayness when I need it most of all.

He's never been underwear shopping with me, hasn't painted my toenails and never diets. He also eats what he likes and doesn't worry that it's going to the same spot on his hips and it leaches to mine. Hmmm ... what's the one thing he does do though ... the bitchy comment.
All the lack of flamboyant gay is totally overshadowed by the bitchy comment. You know, the one that goes: "You look pale!" when I'm about to walk out the door for a date. Oh my Betsy! Who does that to a girl who's walking out the door for a date? Only a boy friend! He's being totally serious and staring at me while I wipe the excess power ... did I mention that it's Sensei and only if you are straight male can you ask what that is.
It gets worse! While I'm dusting my face and removing excess power then adding more blush to my cheeks and forehead he's telling me that the crack on my forehead show more as I frown and then relax my face. I'm blotching and dabbing and wondering just how I have an ounce of self esteem left when in the presence of 'the bitch'.

No one sees me without make-up except Greggie and he never comments in the moment, but always makes sure to remind me to fix my hair and apply some form of face before venturing out into public. I know that! I don't need the remind! So I'm solving a problem in a very permanent manner. I'm getting my eyeliner tattooed tomorrow.

Bless my Greggie! When I told him I would be arriving at work with puffy eyes, glasses and no make -up tomorrow he asked me if my hair would at least be washed ... bitch!

So my rouged cheeks and shiny lips left for my date. It was sweet enough but there just wasn't much of a spark at all. I want sparks and I'm prepared to wait.
Secretly it made me miss The Jock. I remember the moment we saw each other and forcing our way through the few hours of civilised conversation before we were making the meeting a little more ... um ... formal ;-). Okay so I don't miss The Jock, I just miss the feeling ... I want that feeling again.

I'm not hunting, I know sometimes it seems as though I am, but I really enjoy dating. I'm not hunting because even though he wasn't for me at all I don't mind keeping in touch at all. I don't mind keeping the friendships with the boys who are not compatible and I don't mind moving on to the next fun experience.

I drove home and the only thing that kept me from calling The Jock was eyeliner. No more eyeliner. In Greggie's totally honest and very true observation that I had laid the foundation and powder on just a little too thick I had totally forgotten to do the ceremonial farewell to eyeliner. I'm not thinking my queen is the best to celebrate moments like that with but I'm so totally excited that, at that moment when my best friend was giving me make-up tips, I was bidding farewell to eyeliner.