5/12/06

“OK, I admit it – I have bad taste in men!” I said. It was true. I tend to fall in love with men who are married, gay, or on one memorable occasion, psychopathic murderers, but that’s another story. I want to end the year an a high note, preferably a good high note, not one screeched in terror at discovering that my boyfriend is going to chop me up and eat me for Christmas dinner. Given my past record, it is a possibility.

“Yes, yes you do. Awful. Dreadful. But none of them have actually killed you. Yet,” Michelle, my dear friend decided to be honest and agree with me, rather than do the comforting ‘You-just-haven’t-found-the-right-one-yet-and-they’re-all-jerks-anyway’ routine. Actually, Michelle tended to be like that.

“He’s not actively psychotic, right? I mean, OK, so maybe he does the whole kill-y thing, but still…” I protested feebly. Very feebly.

“Frejya, he’s a vampire. As in: fangs, drinks blood, likes carnage. This is a new low for you,” Michelle patted my arm awkwardly.

I had another drink of my hot chocolate. We sat in a bright wintery sun, in a café. I had hot chocolate, Michelle (who has weird taste) was dipping prawn cocktail flavoured crisps into her’s. I tried not to retch at the thought.

“But, Michelle… I think I love him. As in, really love him. Can’t he just de-vampify himself?” I asked hopelessly.

“Frejya… Are you going to finish your hot chocolate?”

I handed it over to her and gazed off into the distance. Michelle has no sense of romance.

I’d been watching him for a while. Not in a creepy, stalkerish way, but just being in places he frequents. His name is Sabyn. I guess that is a sign that he is not the regular guy I need to find and date (and marry and have children wit - my mother can feel my biological clock ticking, pretty impressive as I’m only just out of teenagerish youth, but I think she wants grandchildren to coo over before whichever serial killer I choose as my husband kills me. At least she’ll have company at the funeral…).

He wears sunglasses outside, and quite a bit indoors too (even though it’s December). Either that’s a vampire thing, or it’s an evil thing. And long black coat – likewise, could be vampiric or evil reasons. But he looks good. Like, really good. Pale skin. Why didn’t I guess he was a vampire? Oh yeah, and hair that’s not very long, but long enough to see the slight curls in it.

I need to get a life. And a nice, safe boyfriend that I can take to visit my Mum without worrying if he will kill her.