I did it again. Twice. That’s why I’ve been laying low. I literally had nothing going on in my head, or my life. No inspiration to draw from. Except for that one thing. The one.
Man Friend.
I missed my blog so much. But all my everything was entwined with him and I couldn’t write anything without breaking his confidence. My poor house mates, wife in particular, must be driven mad by my constant droning and conversation ‘quirks’ like these;
“Did you say you had pasta for lunch? Man Friend doesn’t like pasta! Can you believe that. Yea, seriously. He thinks it has a weird texture.”
I know. That grip is coming in the post. (As in GET A)
Man Friend has a kitten. Gorgeous. It was his mother’s. He engaged in a short term adoption of this kitten when she died. Six weeks ago. I have a friend, a couple of friends actually, with a lesser gorgeous kitten and they expressed an interest in rescuing another orphan.
MF although constantly moaning about what a pain in the arse this cat was, would sit, for hours, cradling him like a baby and occasionally breaking the silence with,
“Look at his facial expression.”
Or
”Feel how soft his fur is. He looks like a lima.”
Anyway, a trial period of a weekend was agreed upon, and a time for the drop off was agreed. It was my college graduation on that particular evening. I had invited MF to the ensuing party. He declined. Too many people. Not in the mood. Probably be busy. When he wanted to be your friend he was great, so much fun and interesting and interested. Then he would just drop out.
I was in my second week of work and was finding the nine to five quite tough. Not the tedious course of tasks, the actually time consuming nature of a full time job. You can’t really go and roll around in your own vomit on a Tuesday night if you have a strategy meeting on Wednesday morning. When you get home, you have time for dinner and THAT’S IT. Then you have to go to bed. It’s bullshit. Needless to say, I wasn’t paying Man Friend much attention, and it was annoying the fuck out of him.
I didn’t mention my graduation again, and I knew he would want me to come with him when he dropped the kitten off but I said nothing. He text me a plan the night before; movie, takeaway, all that stuff. I told him I was busy and couldn’t go. Outrage!
He said that I obviously thought that he wasn’t living up my standards. For once, I didn’t enter in to it. I didn’t shower him with attention and try desperately to appease him. I didn’t care.
I had to work a half day on the Friday of my graduation. I went home and Wife and I proceeded to spend a good three hours piling on the slap. Due to the glamour of the lifestyle that I live, I had to fix our washing machine before we left the house. The floor was a bit on the damp side and as we rushed out the door, Wife’s parents in tow, I slapped off the ground. Wife, such a generous soul; Her smoker’s cackle could be heard across the square.
Ego. Bruised. Blood. Everywhere.
My creepy, tan, granny tights were RUINED. They looked like something you’d use to strangle a prostitute with. I ran upstairs to change. What if I fell on the way up to collect my scroll? That dress was compressing my rib cage something fierce (making my tits looks amazing) and now my heart was beating so much, it was making me sweat in the worst possible place.
HANDS.
We finally arrived at the venue. My dear parents, completely aware and yet completely uncaring of the fact that I wouldn’t be granted access to the gown fitting room without the invitation which they had in their possession; decided to stay and savour their steak dinner, making the hands clammier than ever.
We got in to our class groups and everyone exchanged lies on what they were doing with their lives. It was amazing to actual say I had a job and know that I wasn’t talking absolute bollocks. No one needed to know that my contract was temporary. The class bully and complete mentaller actually denied having a job all together, even though everyone knows that he’s working on contract in RTE and being mentored by probably Ireland’s most successful editor. He then proceeded to stand in front of me for all the photos that were taken before we started the unnecessarily long procession out into the library.
The service was shockingly elegant and the speeches weren’t half as full of shit as I was expecting. Some guy from a British university was awarding the certificates, with the respective department head by his side. Half way through the animation class getting their props, a whisper made its way down through our class. From a person who is so bullied, that he is now a bully himself, he instructed all of us to break the guidelines which had been set by all the graduates who had been trudging across the stage for the last twenty minutes, and shake not just the dignitary’s hand but wreck the rhythm by grabbing our course coordinator’s hand as well.
This is the kind of shit I’ve had to put up with.
I nodded an acknowledgement and put my eyes back on the MC.
“DRIVEL MACHINE!”
It was the kind of loud angry ‘whisper’ that your mother might use if she caught you snorting lines of coke off your cousin’s boyfriend’s naked torso at a family barbecue.
Jolted. I looked toward the anger.
“Pass it on!”
Good fucking god. Could these people not get off my back and stop licking arse for one evening? The results were already finalised, there was nothing more he could do.
Afterwards, Wife and I went for a drink with our parents in the neighbouring hotel. I like to think that I’m not usually a stressor. Introduce my mother in to the equation and that statement is blown out of the water. Embarrassing as this is to admit, I was forced several times to remind her that this was MY night, not hers. I love the woman, but she’s a massive pain in the gee at times. Usually the times when you would especially benefit greatly from not having a pain in your gee. Even my father agreed that she was being a total wagon.
I calmed down once I had a few glasses of wine inside me. I went out for a cigarette and gave Man Friend a call; to enquire about the cat fostering. He was spending the night with his grandmother, he is caring like that. I said I would keep him updated. I could tell he had things to say to me but didn’t want to look like a little bitch in comparison to my nonchalance. He couldn’t understand why I didn’t care anymore.
We went back to a party that had already started in our house. Our friends were just so proud of our achievements! Bless.
I got a bit too merry on the ol’ sauce and start relenting tales of my favourite…encounters. For fuck sake. Why can’t I shut the fuck up?
We fell out the door sometime later. After stopping to tell the bouncers, the barmen, the smokers around the door, the glass-collectors and the cloakroom attendant about my academic achievements, we made our way to the dance floor.
Ladies, you know when you’re busting a move with your gal pals; lezzing off basically, and a man lurks behind you trying to appeal to one or all of you? Blissfully unaware that lurking is about as sexy as phlegm. Dirty looks included, he just wouldn’t piss off.
I said he looked like Sam Rockwell. He said he felt his face more resembled Clunge from The Inbetweeners. Clunge. He really was a charmer. I was sold at that point. I wasn’t really. But he kissed me and I let him. He said he was working towards a PhD in Chemical Engineering. (Later found out to be true, due to subtle detective work).
The lights came up, and what had seemed to sparkle like glitter was in fact sweat. I wasn’t well. So tired. So drunk. In dire need of a good vomit.
I left, with the gang, and Clunge in tow. I needed the air. A mass could’ve exited through my mouth at any minute. Outside was like a teenage disco. Clunge was hinting to come back.
“Look you can come back if you want, but I’m not having sex with you and I’m probably going to puke so you’ll have to hold my hair.”
Clunge must have a very developed sense of humour because he kissed me again. His friends had all left, as had mine. We were alone on the street. Twice a man came to us asking for money. Conveniently in the middle of Clunge’s “Yea, so I’m doing my PhD and I lecture in UCD part time,” speeches. We decided to hail a taxi and I reiterated the rules to Clunge. I was joking! Half joking. I’m not that conceited or bossy, I swear! A passing stag party overheard and started cheering. I narrowed my eyes at Clunge.
“You’ve made me look like a total slag now Clunge. Thanks very much.”
He laughed. He actually got my sense of humour.
We eventually dragged ourselves away from the windowsill we were leaning on and got in the car. I was weak. I definitely needed a power nap. Never one to turn down the chance to get my dick wet (BOOM!), I thought this might be the first time. We sat on the couch with Wife and her friend for a while. Clunge and I shared the same birthday. I did actually like him. He was really fun and warm.
Wife’s friend asked how long we were together. He said we looked like were in love.
For that night. We were.
We went to my room. I was ready for action, but first I needed to replenish. I don’t think Clunge was too impressed when I made us both take power naps. Sweet as it was, it’s hard to sleep when someone keeps kissing your forehead and stroking your hair.
I woke up out of my coma to find it snowing outside. How long had I been asleep?! We got down to business, I won’t bore you with the deets but it was good. Very good. It was also very…affectionate. I woke up the next morning still enveloped in a spoon. And I liked it. Usually I’m more –
“Right that was very nice. Well done. Now this is my side, that’s your side. There’s the line. Don’t try to share my pillow.”
While we still lay tight together, chatting and taking the piss out of each other, I got a text. It was only ten o’clock. Who in their right mind…? It was Man Friend. I had forgotten about him. For once.
Such a dear. Enquiring about the state of my digestive system and telling me to just wipe the vomit away and go back down to the session. He does know me and my weak stomach very well. I wondered had I ever text him while he was in bed with another girl. I didn’t really mind if I had or not. We were friends now.
Clunge went on his merry way. Not before we had an awkward moment at the door when he didn’t ask for my number and I asked him why he hadn’t. Half joking. He looked like he had been caught licking a used condom.
I tried to summon some energy to meet my parents and my little brother for drinks and lunch and dinner in town. I was like a briar. So TIE-ARD.
On Sunday Man Friend called me and told me the adoption had not worked out and he was to go and collect the kitten. Would I come with him? He came to my house after work on the Monday. Usually when I knew I was going to see Man Friend, I put in a bit of effort. We’re talking make up and everything. But we were friends now, friends didn’t care if you were showered or not.
It was snowing quite heavily and the ground was very slippy. We edged our away toward Gay Best Friend’s apartment. I slipped once or twice and grabbed Man Friend’s arm. Not because I wanted his dick, but because I didn’t want my brain blood all over the path. He was so charmless about the whole thing.
“Don’t pull me down with you. – I’ll help you up if you fall, but I’m not falling with you.”
We were definitely just friends.
We picked up the kitten and had an awkward thirty minutes in Gay Best Friend’s sitting room, where due to anxiety and shyness he refused to meet Man Friend’s eye. He was put out and it put me in that terrible situation you have with clashing friends, where you’re all,
“You’ve started jogging really? Paul used to throw the javelin!”
It just fuelled MF’s paranoia/ego (I can never be sure which) because as we had rounded the corner to GBF’s house, Man Friend said,
“I’m a bit nervous about going in here and meeting GBF. I feel like he’s your big brother or something. He probably hates me after all I’ve done to you.”
We walked the short distance, through the alley to MF’s house. He wrapped the kitten in a big bear hug, and I carried his case and his toys, including MF’s bear that he had when he was a baby. Aaaawwwww.
MF’s flat is freezing. I sat on the couch with my hood up, shivering. He covered me in a huge blanket and ordered us a Chinese. The kitten lay in my arms sleeping like a baby. We watched Alan Partridge and talked. It was the first time we had hung out, probably ever, just as friends. It was really nice.
He asked me did I want to stay. The snow was thick. Wouldn’t it be safer to wait until the morning? There was no way I would be up on time to go to my house, change and then go to work so I left around midnight. I hailed a taxi (the driver was an absolute lunatic, but that’s another story). I shut the door and my phone beeped. It was a text from Man Friend. He had been watching from the window and was offering me congratulations on my taxi flagging skills.
Then another.
“I really like you DM, you’re so nice.”
And then
“I really wanted to kiss you so many times tonight but I didn’t think you wanted me to. Did you?”
Fuck sake.
