Emma Jones’s Diary: May

May 1, 9pm. Richmond: Connor and Ronnie’s house. Only one thing better for unrequited love than chocolate and that thing is friendship. Friendship + pizza + wine + v generously-rolled joint. C and R such pair of good eggs. Stoned hypothesising re scientology w brill mates is best way to distract self from stupid crush.

 

May 2, 12.45am. Richmond: Somewhere on the 70 tram. Oh my god am so so stoned. Can people on this tram tell how stoned. Probably yes as have been staring intently at green handle things that dangle from tram ceiling for v long time trying to come up w name for said things. Dangle handle. Dandle. Hangle.

 

1am. Melbourne: Flinders Street Station. Miss 1.03 Upfield train by ~3 seconds. Watch it disappear into dark distance w sense of being in Miyazaki film. Wind tugging at skirt feels slow, floaty. Walk down Flinders to Elizabeth for the 19 tram. City on Friday night weird wasteland which usually try at all costs to avoid. Middle-aged women who have been to The Lion King in a drunken gaggle by traffic lights, shrouded by menthol smoke. Man leaning out of car says something re my ass and I give him trademark withering glare. Withering glare poss less effective due to stoned, red eyes. Creep in car says oh I’m not that terrible baby and I give him the finger. Flashing lights, piles of other people’s vomit, McDonald’s. The city sucks.

 

May 6, 7pm. Brunswick East: The Alderman. Phase 2 of getting over crush on T: go on date. Date arranged w Tall, Dark, Handsome Art Critic who has been on periphery for while. Am late because always late for dates. Lateness strategy to avoid waiting at place of date for date because when waiting become nervous. TDHAC is present, punctual, v tall, v dark and v handsome. Praising hands emoji.

 

May 7, 3pm. Brunswick East: Carolina’s. Am at cute cafe w friend George eating cookies and drinking third long black of day. Has been v productive afternoon. Ability to respond to emails due to fact am still basking in glory of successful date. TDHAC smart, witty, able to make coherent jokes about theorists central to my thesis while maintaining flirty vibe. Am impressed. Got drunker than usually allow self to get on first date and invited TDHAC home despite housemate’s advice to stop fucking on first date if want boys to like me for me and not for my bod. Do not regret this decision. Second date secured before even left venue of first date.

 

May 10, 3pm. Brunswick: my couch. Got v drunk w friend Sam last night on jugs of gross beer that tasted like soap. Texted TDHAC for booty. Booty granted. Spent most of booty call agonising over act of booty call. Does booty call set up parameter of relationship as one based on only sex? Does booty call invalidate glowing conversation of first date? May have uttered words to this effect. Cause for drunken shame? Idk. Second date still stands. Will try not to appear drunk and/or sex-crazed.

 

May 12, 6pm. Brunswick: my bedroom. Received text from T. Apparently crush not so unrequited as first thought. T available for sexy friendship. Suddenly realise am able to desire more than one person simultaneously. Agree to see T at later date.

 

May 14, 6pm. Melbourne: Moat. Meet TDHAC for real, adult, non-booty date. Is sitting w friends who are all so art. Immediately feel am not wearing enough black. Roll multiple cigarettes, chain smoke to compensate/relax.

 

11pm. Melbourne: Loop. Attended gallery fundraiser, looked at and said things about art w TDHAC as though am smart, mature, non-booty type. Am now drunk on mulled wine in cute lil smoking courtyard w TDHAC whose hand is getting further up my thigh. Becoming more and more difficult to maintain mature, non-booty date objective.

 

May 15, 10am. Northcote: TDHAC’s house. Yeah, oops. The sex was v good though. Fuck housemate’s advice. No regrets.

 

May 18, 1pm. Richmond: Spook office. Get phonecall from housemate who informs that landlord is evicting us so landlord can move in to house. Well, fuck.

 

May 19, 11pm. Northcote: TDHAC’s house. Met TDHAC for drink, spent entire time sitting as close together as possible making dumb crumpet jokes. How is possible am on third date, entirely mentally present and not just saying “yeah” periodically while concocting escape plan? Came here to watch Master Chef and order pizza. Am beginning to think this thing’s got legs. TDHAC either enjoys Master Chef as much as I do, or is willing to pretend enjoys Master Chef to impress me. Either way, v cute. Turns out TDHAC’s favourite pizza topping and my favourite pizza topping are same. For some reason this leads to hard, fast sex. TDHAC, self and pizza all come at same time. High fives all round.

 

May 20, 11.30pm. Brunswick: my couch. Am supposed to be writing essay due Friday, but instead am responding to cute, flirty messages from T.

 

May 21, 10am. Brunswick: my bedroom. Sex w T last night unexpectedly easy. Did not feel any of emotions usually associated w T. Told T about TDHAC and T asked if it was headed to a monog place. Replied do not know. Actually do not know. T kissed me goodbye and we agreed this could happen again, should happen again. Will happen again?

 

May 24, 8am. Northcote: TDHAC’s house. TDHAC leaves for work at crack of dawn on weekends. Am lying in his bed, alone, w mean hangover. Am broke but TDHAC bought me several espresso martinis last night. TDHAC wanted me to include financial generosity in diary column. TDHAC likes pretending to be “Sugar Daddy”. This is v cute. TDHAC aware that write and publish monthly sex life diary column on internet and that he will inevitably appear in it w ridiculous pseudonym of my choosing. Am aware that he will read this. Hope that he will like pseudonym chosen. Am aware that he will know, from reading this, more than I ever chose to reveal during events of past month. Kind of willing to take risk and publish on internet fact that have huge goddamn crush on TDHAC. Last night he (v drunk, poss drunker than I was) said some v cute things to the effect of he likes spending time w me and I make him happy. Thinking about this now does things to stomach that could be butterflies or reappearance of espresso martini. Either way: there u go, TDHAC. Same goes.

Emma Marie Jones is a Melbourne-based poet and writer and the Sex Editor at SPOOK magazine. Her short fiction, poems, essays and criticism have appeared in SPOOK, Scum, The Lifted Brow, Stilts, The Suburban Review.

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