Good Girl Gone - Well, Stupid

Normally I'm a very level-headed person. Cool, calm, irritatingly logical. But there are some people who just push my buttons, either in a good or bad way. I ran into one of these people today.

This guy - we'll call him A., just for the sake of conversation - is someone I knew when I was in high school. But even though he lives in my neighborhood (or at least his parents do, I have no idea if he still does), I only see him round occasionally, and haven't really talked to him for several months, maybe a year. We were...not friends exactly. Not close ones, anyway. Certainly not enemies, but more like casual acquaintances. He asked me out a few times in Years 7 and 8, I declined because I didn't feel old enough to date, he thought it was personal, and didn't ask me out anymore after that, even though I probably would have gone by that time. We hung out at parties, occasionally spent time at the park, spent one Easter vacation trying to teach me how to breakdance, with disastrous results. I think he liked and respected me, although I'm not entirely sure. He never really talked much. I certainly liked and respected him, but with both of us having that distant, aloof manner, we never got close.

Casual friends. Buddies. Yeah, that sounds about right.

Anyway, as I said, we sort of lost track after school. Now and then we'd run into each other at a nightclub, or a party, or the local shops. But I've noticed over the years that any time I run into him, I seem to forget that I'm a sensible, mature person, and do things that are...well, kind of dumb. Not dumb like dangerous, just situations where I say or do something, and when we say goodbye I spend the next hour thinking, WTF just happened?

So I went to the Co-Op today. I needed the exercise, and I also needed some potatoes, which they didn't have yesterday. (Today: no potatoes. No parsnips. No broccoli. No sweet potatoes. No eggs. Roast dinner, it seems, is going to consist of chicken and carrots.) And when I was walking home, I heard a voice behind me that I vaguely recognized: "Feeling patriotic?"

What had happened without me even realizing was that the wind had blown my dress up at the back. We've been having this crazy weather recently, most of the time we just get light breezes, but now and then we get these massive gusts of wind that come out of nowhere. And apparently one of them grabbed at my dress while I was walking down the hill, and somehow I didn't notice. And under the dress I was wearing blue bikini bottoms with white stars on them - much like the American flag - which was what prompted the patriotic comment. (I was "The American Kid" in high school; my mother is from Minnesota and passed her accent on to me, even though I was born in England and raised in Spain and have never actually been to the States.)

So I put my bags down and chatted with A. for a moment or two, and the gist of the conversation was that no, I wasn't feeling particularly patriotic, at least not while Bush was still in power. After elections, I'd think about it. And from that simple statement, somehow - and DO NOT ask me how, because I don't know - I ended up agreeing that for the week before the election, I'd go to Batchwood Hall nightclub with him and his buddies, on the Thursday and Friday and Saturday, wearing nothing but the matching stars bikini top and my red-and-white striped miniskirt, with "Vote Obama" painted on my boobies.

How did I end up agreeing to this? I don't know. I don't even remember how the conversation went, really. It's just the effect that this particular guy has, and has always had, on me.

So bring your cameras, guys and girls.