A girl I was seeing in 2008 got in touch with me recently- thankfully it wasn’t in search of financial support for an illegitimate child or to admit a transmission of STIs, but because she’s moving back up from down south where she had been living for 4 years. She’d split with a long-term boyfriend- or he’d split with her- and she’d come back to the last place she was before him- Manchester- and contacted the last guy she was seeing- me.
I went out to meet her between Christmas and new year not knowing what to expect. She hadn’t told me by this time that she was single again, I hadn’t seen her in all that time, and I knew I’d be the only guy. But that isn’t such a problem. I met up with her in Prohibition, one of the best bars in the city, then got pissed pretty quick on hip-flask vodka, mixed in with my drinks at Revolution. That’s when she told me her ex had finished her and she was single again.
It was a good chance for me to talk about things we never talked about before- we were both in denial, in ’08, that our little thing was going nowhere. We had tried, but it just wasn’t happening. She knew that it was me that didn’t want it. I told her, last week, that back then, I didn’t know what I was doing. I’d only lost my virginity a few months before, she had a spineless twat of an ex boyfriend giving her grief- someone who used to be my mate, until she finished him and he turned- and for the first time I was enjoying being single. She seemed to take this explanation well.
As I was talking to her, I was thinking, Would I try again? She’s invited me out tonight, so there’s a good chance she’s interested.
Of course, as the alcohol flowed these possibilities twisted- some diminished while others grew. She introduced me to her friends- one I’d already met, one I hadn’t- a civil servant with an arm missing. We talked about our conditions and how it affected us- I told her about a certain mental problem that she seemed to take quite well. Later into the night we hit another bar that- for the LIFE of me- I can’t remember much about. A karaoke bar on Portland Street I think. Yes. I was STEAMING by this time, and when I went to request a song (I am a FEIND for karaoke) I met a fat girl with big fat-girl tits, and drunken lust overcame me. She let me snog her and fondle and kiss her huge tits. Then, as far as I could tell, she disappeared. By this time, of course, Ex had pulled someone else. One-Arm was being pestered by some creep. She asked me to give it 2 minutes then full-on snog her. So I did, and said creep skidaddled.
My song wasn’t called out and I grew resentful towards the DJ throughout the night. When the bar closed, some other creep was hovering around the girls, so the doormen let us stay in for five minutes whilst he fucked off. Not that I wasn’t happy to sort it myself, of course, but why should I when the door staff get payed for it?
Ex and her friends had rented a hotel room for the night- she wasn’t officialy moving up just yet, it seemed. She had probably told me this already. I dunno. We went back to their room and my attempts to coerce sex out of my ex were dreadfully clumsy. We talked about how things had fucked up for all of us- We’d all had problems with the opposite sex, but typically I had so much less experience and so much less to say, so I figured, it was time to be open about that. I told them of my numerous failures, whilst telling them that I “probably shouldn’t be telling them”. Ex described how, after splitting with me, she’d got with her next fella and stayed with him up to last week, when he’d dumped her. Why? She asked. What makes a man change in that way? Why did he want to be single?
She was in tears by this time.
My guess, I explained, was that her ex seemed like a relationship man. Men who go from one relationship to another will very rarely get a chance to freely shag around, and that’s something that every man wants. He’s getting old, and has probably never done that- and he panicked, thinking about his age, and made a decision. And he threw away a diamond.
An interesting night. Alcohol made it so, like it does for most normal people. For most of my life alcohol has gone hand-in-hand with losing my mind, forgetting everything, suspecting people of talking about me, feelings of self-loathing and incapability and generally has felt like a waste of money. These days I have- a piece at a time- learned to love myself. Alcohol is an emotional excacerbator- whatever you feel, get pissed and you feel it more. So finally I’m starting to feel like I can go out, get pissed, try it on with a few girls without feeling self concious, and not be bothered if they turn me down. I’m 30, and I’m- at long last- behaving like a 20-year-old. All I want to do now is go out and do all it again.