Cali Gurrrl and Beanie Face's arguments were growing more frequent. The end of our lease was looming and, coincidentally, coincided within a couple of months of the end of Cali Gurrrl's working holiday visa.
Their plan was deceptively simple - Beanie Face was to join Cali Gurrrl in America, as she had joined him in Australia. She was working two jobs, and Beanie Face was leaving every morning at six to arrive home every night thirteen and a half hours later. They were saving furiously for their planned relocation to Cali Gurrrl's home town of Temecula. As a draftsman, Beanie Face was finding it difficult to secure a job in California, especially since he couldn't provide the equivalent school qualifications most American employers demand. He paid an extortionate price to complete, and receive the required proofs, of said assessment. He was hoping to begin a four-year-long engineering degree in an university near Cali Gurrrl's home, and she had promised to support him while he studied.
This dedication came at a cost and the relationship took a turn for the worst, neither side having any real fault, both parties merely falling victim to unfavourable circumstances. Cali Gurrrl was a proud party girl and, understandably, wanted make the most of her short time left in Australia. She liked dining out and going to clubs, and was growing frustrated at sacrificing those interests because of Beanie Face's need to save money - an equally understandable action considering he was looking at four years of virtual unemployment as he studied.The tension was palpable and - inevitably - erupted into some very vocal, high-pitched arguments.
The Boyfriend and I overheard a couple of the ensuing rows, and headed straight for the door when we did so, taking long, extended Walks to avoid any awkwardness.
I was at work, tending to someone's gluten free toast with vegemite, when I got the text from Cali Gurrrl. They were over, and she was in desperate need of some girl-talk. And I was the one she came to.
I'm not very girly - you may have already guessed. Don't get me wrong - I bitch, I exaggerate, I cry and get jealous, and all those other historically girly things. But I only indulge in such foolish behaviour when my blood toxicity level is dangerously high after heavy alcohol consumption - and that's not as often as The Boyfriend would have you believe. Generally, I'm quite relaxed about my significant better's comings and goings. Frequently, I try to ignore any niggling annoyances I might have, because I am extremely lazy and can't be arsed with the effort needed to explain my point of view.
This being said, I panicked after reading Cali Gurrrl's message. This was a test of my girly prowess. I bought wine and too much chocolate, and Google'd "Things To Say To Heartbroken People". I schooled myself on the expected sympathetic responses of a girlfriend, and bought a copy of Cosmopolitan. I bought cigarettes and a pink, girly lighter and text The Boyfriend a terse message about how he should just get dinner for himself, as I would be building up Cali Gurrrl's self-esteem as a good girl-friend, something he wouldn't understand as a mere man. I was all aboard the Men Abhorrent friend-ship, a ready member of Vaginas United, ready to lend my shoulder for all the tears she could muster.
Like I said, though - I'm not very girly. Twenty minutes after discussing the topic at hand, I was a bit distracted and couldn't tear my mind away from my growling stomach. I was jealously daydreaming about what The Boyfriend might have cooked up for dinner, trying to keep my teeth from chattering in the growing cold. I tore bits off the corner of Cosmopolitan, smoked endless cigarettes, wondering why simply getting drunk for a week solid couldn't be the solution to every problem.
Eventually, we walked back home where Cali Gurrrl seemed to realise the reality of the situation and became emotional. Beanie Face was inside, presumably breaking the news to The Boyfriend.
The Boyfriend looked as awkward as I felt; we're Irish - being emotionally supportive in the absence of whiskey is literally beyond our realm of comprehension. Our eyes met and we mutually decided we were going on another Walk. We've never been as fit as that period in our lives.
Cali Gurrrl moved out the next day.
And then, there were three.
Their plan was deceptively simple - Beanie Face was to join Cali Gurrrl in America, as she had joined him in Australia. She was working two jobs, and Beanie Face was leaving every morning at six to arrive home every night thirteen and a half hours later. They were saving furiously for their planned relocation to Cali Gurrrl's home town of Temecula. As a draftsman, Beanie Face was finding it difficult to secure a job in California, especially since he couldn't provide the equivalent school qualifications most American employers demand. He paid an extortionate price to complete, and receive the required proofs, of said assessment. He was hoping to begin a four-year-long engineering degree in an university near Cali Gurrrl's home, and she had promised to support him while he studied.
This dedication came at a cost and the relationship took a turn for the worst, neither side having any real fault, both parties merely falling victim to unfavourable circumstances. Cali Gurrrl was a proud party girl and, understandably, wanted make the most of her short time left in Australia. She liked dining out and going to clubs, and was growing frustrated at sacrificing those interests because of Beanie Face's need to save money - an equally understandable action considering he was looking at four years of virtual unemployment as he studied.The tension was palpable and - inevitably - erupted into some very vocal, high-pitched arguments.
The Boyfriend and I overheard a couple of the ensuing rows, and headed straight for the door when we did so, taking long, extended Walks to avoid any awkwardness.
I was at work, tending to someone's gluten free toast with vegemite, when I got the text from Cali Gurrrl. They were over, and she was in desperate need of some girl-talk. And I was the one she came to.
I'm not very girly - you may have already guessed. Don't get me wrong - I bitch, I exaggerate, I cry and get jealous, and all those other historically girly things. But I only indulge in such foolish behaviour when my blood toxicity level is dangerously high after heavy alcohol consumption - and that's not as often as The Boyfriend would have you believe. Generally, I'm quite relaxed about my significant better's comings and goings. Frequently, I try to ignore any niggling annoyances I might have, because I am extremely lazy and can't be arsed with the effort needed to explain my point of view.
This being said, I panicked after reading Cali Gurrrl's message. This was a test of my girly prowess. I bought wine and too much chocolate, and Google'd "Things To Say To Heartbroken People". I schooled myself on the expected sympathetic responses of a girlfriend, and bought a copy of Cosmopolitan. I bought cigarettes and a pink, girly lighter and text The Boyfriend a terse message about how he should just get dinner for himself, as I would be building up Cali Gurrrl's self-esteem as a good girl-friend, something he wouldn't understand as a mere man. I was all aboard the Men Abhorrent friend-ship, a ready member of Vaginas United, ready to lend my shoulder for all the tears she could muster.
Like I said, though - I'm not very girly. Twenty minutes after discussing the topic at hand, I was a bit distracted and couldn't tear my mind away from my growling stomach. I was jealously daydreaming about what The Boyfriend might have cooked up for dinner, trying to keep my teeth from chattering in the growing cold. I tore bits off the corner of Cosmopolitan, smoked endless cigarettes, wondering why simply getting drunk for a week solid couldn't be the solution to every problem.
Eventually, we walked back home where Cali Gurrrl seemed to realise the reality of the situation and became emotional. Beanie Face was inside, presumably breaking the news to The Boyfriend.
The Boyfriend looked as awkward as I felt; we're Irish - being emotionally supportive in the absence of whiskey is literally beyond our realm of comprehension. Our eyes met and we mutually decided we were going on another Walk. We've never been as fit as that period in our lives.
Cali Gurrrl moved out the next day.
And then, there were three.
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