"It's a river of shit from which I've tried to extract some gold"

I think I'm too dumb to try to extract some gold...

It's been weeks and honestly I don't remember everything that happened to me here. Now that it's summertime - vacation time - a lot of companies canceld lessons and I only have a few groups. My private student bailed on me. Apparently she underwent surgery a month ago and is still recovering. She said she's with her parents and maybe will have to undergo a second one. I mean, poor girl but I was counting on the money.
The school has the policy that teachers can be paid up to the 20th of the following month. UP TO. So, last month I was paid on the 8th and now it's the 17th and no sign of any money waiting for me at the reception desk. Bastards.
As a result, I haven't been out every day. The last three Saturdays were useless. The first was strange, strange people, crap music. We spent a lot of money and didn't have fun at all. The second I didn't go out; I would meet Grzegorz and his wife here in Krakow, because they would come over to visit their cousins. We had a good time, we talked, she's actually a great person, the problem is the history back in London... I know nothing's gonna happen, for sure. It just kind of annoys me that he calls me almost every week, usually when he's walking the dog and has got a few beers in his head. Why does he do it? I mean we're just friends, right? Why can't he call me early evening, at home, sober, with his wife next to him or something? He called me yesterday. I was in Kolory with Junior and it was midnight. He was in Warsaw on a business trip and, again, drunk. He said he wanted to take some time off to come to Krakow and actually have a few beers with me, since when we met he was driving and couldn't drink.
I had to end the conversation otherwise I think I would still be talking to him. He said, 'ok, see you soon in Krakow.' I wonder.
Last Saturday was so awful that I went home at 2:30am. I did a bailinho and had much more fun.
Paula and Ethan came here a couple of weeks ago for a week. It was great. They said they had a good time, but the weather was shit and, honestly, there's not much to see here apart from the Old Town and Kazimierz. Since they're not interested in going out and partying all night it is kind of a bitch having to go to the same places. And on their last day here we were hoping to go to a typical Polish restaurant and have pierogi and all those other pork dishes that they love here, but as it is summer, full of tourists, we couldn't get a table unless we had reservations. We tried another place near Rynek but the waiter almost spat at our faces telling us to leave because it was already closed. We ended up going to Offycina, again, to have the burger, again. At least they have a good burger there. Not one Bodean's-like, but still...
It didn't take long for me to platonic fall in love again. He's an interesting guy, Damian, doesn't look Polish. Tall, dark hair and eyes. Let's say he's a little 'strong', not fat. Works as an accountant for IBM and, of course, is my student. It all happened as it always does: I couldn't care less, he started to be too friendly, I noticed him and fell in love. Every time is like this. Every fucking time.
But the difference this time is that I kinda sense something, you know? He deeply apologizes when he's not able to show up because he has to do overtime, he bought the book, he walks with me to get the tram and I then go on to walk one hour to Sebastiana. Once he walked with me all the way to Rynek because he was meeting friends there, that's a 50-minute walk.
And last Thursday something strange happened. Usually five to seven students turn up for the lesson, it's one of my favorite groups, even though it's advanced level. But last week only he and the new girl, Dagmara, showed up.
He got there first complaining that he has to do overtime, he can't turn up and shit. I said it was ok, becuase I knew they had to do overtime very often. The girl arrived.
He did a test with the rest of the group a month ago but he failed. Totally failed. I told him to take it again, but then he hadn't studied, he didn't turn up... So, on Thursday he asked me to take the test the following week.

"You know, I can take the test next week if it's ok with you".
"Ok, but you have to take it next week, since I've spoken to the DOS and she said that we can't keep putting the date off".
"...Or maybe I can take it during the weekend, I don't know if it's all right with you. I have all Saturday free and..."
"...." "err..." "..."
"..."
(blushing all the way through, the girl looking at me and him awaiting an answer) "Let's talk about it later, ok?"
"ok"

My face was as red as a Marlboro pack. What did he want with that? But as I'm the dumbest, supidest person on earth I couldn't even think of a proper answer like, 'well, maybe, what do you have in mind?"
We went on to have the lesson, I had a bunch of things prepared but couldn't go further than half a page. It was a speaking activity and it was something like "What would you do if...?" So a lot of anecdotes were told, mine mostly. And whenever it was something kind of embarrassing and I reluncted to tell he kept pushing: "Please, tell!"
If there was a vase instead of the girl sitting there it wouldn't have made any difference. Then I started to think if SHE was sensing something. (I'm on the stage that I think everybody knows I'm into him).

End of lesson. He and I talking non-stop. The girl standing at the door trying to say 'good-bye' but none of us would look at her.
She finally left and he asked.
"So, what about the test? Should I take it next week or on the weekend?"
My bean-sized brain couldn't form a sentence other than:
"You can take it next week..."
"... oh, ok then"

It's not possible to conceive how deranged I am. When we left the building I started hating myself for having said that. We walked together to my usual shortcut, where we then split. I put my iPod on and was feeling so pissed at myself that if I had to cross a street where trams were passing, I would've thrown myself in front of one.
Eventually, helped by my iPod and my one-hour walk to my place, I calmed down.
I drank mitialadas, smoked and did a bailinho afterwards.

(*) Dennis Hopper - The Guardian International, July 4.