February 09, 2010

Andrew. Being cool.


It’s all about the chin and cheek combination. It’s all about listening to music on blogs and pretending that The New Band drips orgasm into your ear. It’s all about calling your friend a dirty jew and laughing about rape. It’s all about aiming high and going home, shots and shots later, with a fat girl on your arm. It’s all about failing exams and doing drugs and being so fucking Skins that the world sits quiet whenever you brood. 

I’m good at learning.

Chillax. And learn.

I am looking swish. Trainers. Jeans. T-Shirt. Hoody. Nothing screams ‘man about campus’ more than a Warwick University hoody. I fell in love once. I met Kieron on a gay cruising website. His profile picture was him, hair over face, lips parched by the camera. He saw me (just a grey question mark on a yellow background) and we spoke about being and doing. We never met. But I loved him. But I never saw his eyes. But he never knew my real name. Jake, he called me. Jake. 

I have had sex before. 

I want to leave it at that.

Because I’m all about being great on World of Warcraft. I’m all about eating ice cream for breakfast and brushing my teeth five times a day. Just in case. I’m all about looking at people smiling, arms over shoulders on Facebook. I’m all about not caring about shaving and, and I’m all about masturbation.

But I have had sex before.

I want to leave it at that.

The ritual. Friday, 5pm. Week over. The boy with the stripy shirt, the boy with worn brown shoes and three girls. Blond, blond, blond. The Crew. Varsity. Drinks and chat. I enter, sit at the bar, a pint of lager and smile. And smile. And one day, I know, one day they will say, ‘Andrew. Hi. Do you want to join us?’ Except. 

I will tell them my name is Jake. 

The pub ceiling should be more yellow. But no-one smokes. But people smoke. But no-one’s raping. But The New Band isn’t on the Jukebox. But it’s loud. But I brood. But it’s loud. 

I’m good at learning. 

Drink. And learn.

- One comment Not publicly viewable

  1. Sue

    Someone once said to me “I must have been desperate when I went out with that fat girl.” Recently I have noticed several slim men who are dating girls who are fat and I’ve wondered whether to think “That must be real love” as I always remember a school friend of mine lived in the same road as a young woman who was facially disfigured and she was dating a handsome man. My friend told me that whenever they walked past her house arm in arm her mother would say “That’s real love, that is.”

    09 Feb 2010, 05:11

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