Well, when I say ‘another one’ about my friendships in Sweden, I mean, of course, ‘one’.  One that never was, it seems.  It’s been over a week since I heard from SAG, and I’m trying really hard to keep it in perspective and remember that grown ups don’t get to just drop everything and be besties with every random American that drops into their life.  Which is of course a giant pile of BS and I’m hurt and disheartened about my chances of building a life here when I can’t even get one friendship off the ground.

It’s just that I poured out everything about the THM and the Viking, and general homesickness and whatnot, and she sympathized and explained how people here can be reserved and jerks and don’t always realize how they’re coming across… and now she’s kind of doing the same thing.  And now I’m sounding like a huge whiny baby, so I’ll go get some cheese and, uhhh, make lemonade, to horribly mix a bunch of stupid sayings.

I never told the Viking about SAG.  It has actually just hit me now that he still doesn’t know where I was that Friday night.  In the drama of the fight and its aftermath, I guess he forgot to ask again and I’ve never volunteered the information.  Huh.  Anyway, maybe I never told him because I was afraid this would happen and I would look like a loser.  It’s kind of weird, usually you hold off telling your friends about a new guy until you’re officially dating just in case it turns out to be a one night stand lasting a couple of weeks, and now I’m holding off telling my guy about a new friend in case it turns out to be a one night stand lasting a couple of weeks.  Not even that, in fact – a week.  Two dates.

Maybe that’s the balance of life: when I had two dates with guys then they disappeared into a puff of blue smoke, I had a social life.  Now I am in love and have an amazing relationship, the damn blue smoke is taking all my girlfriends.  Maybe there’s a blue smoke dimension somewhere, where all the guys who ever rejected me, and now SAG, are hanging out and comparing notes on what was wrong with me.

Maybe I need to get out more 😉

And in fact, I am going to!  Giant, humungous, amazing news, that I’m realizing now I really should have led with, but oh well, now I have a positive note to end the week on, I HAVE A JOB!  It’s not exactly a glittering career, and is temporary, but heck it’s better than some jobs I’ve done (stapling comes to mind; yes you read right, I was once employed – through a temp agency admittedly – to literally staple reports together for some company for two weeks.  It’s the kind of thing that The Office wouldn’t even satirize because people would be like, ‘come on’, but I did it.  For $8 an hour, which at the time I thought was a mother-effing fortune.)

I am going to work at the kayak/paddleboard rental place for the summer!!

Me and Wearing-Way-Inappropriately-Small-Swimming-Shorts-Dude.  I am Assistant Wearing-Way-Inappropriately-Small-Swimming-Shorts-Dude, or maybe Assistant to the Wearing-Way-Inappropriately-Small-Swimming-Shorts-Dude.  It doesn’t get better than that.

After my funk about my woeful love life yesterday morning, I applied my Prozac-On-The-Water, and took myself paddleboarding.  After another awesome little trip, made mildly exciting by the wind and fractionally big waves (didn’t fall; go me), I was taking my time putting my shoes on back at the jetty and got into conversation with Whacky Swede, who – umm, despite being Swedish I guess – is one of those gregarious, open, love to live life kind of people, and it was really awesome to be around his energy for a little while.

He mentioned that some of his staff aren’t around at the moment (it’s obviously a very laid back, pick up a shift whenever, kind of situation), and I blurted out that I really need a job and he was like, “cool, come by tomorrow at 10.”