I feel like I’m in that situation, you know the one where someone cusses you and you come back with something really weak and everyone laughs. Then at 9 O’clock at night, as you sit on your sofa pondering your life, it hits you. The perfect comeback. The one that would have had everyone in hysterics. The line that oozed wit, genius and venom, all rolled up to create one giant arrow of banter. The cussing champ is here!!! But here too late.
To quote my tweet from last night ‘For someone who is so good with words, it's fucking frustrating when I can't find the right words when I really want to say something. GRRR’. Slightly drunk yet ever the wordsmith.
I was not moaning at being cussed, this is not the school playground, although at times it does feel that way. This is me, or maybe a slightly awkward, stuttering version of me, bemoaning my lack of chance taking. I can’t go to bed and wake up thinking, and waiting for this moment to happen, and when it finally does, stand there like Zippy from Rainbow with a rust problem. Granted, I didn’t want it to come on a night out, I’ve got things to do while out on the town. Drink beer, shuffle around the dance floor and talk to random people like they’re my best mate. Yes, I do want to speak to her for 50 years and get things off my chest no matter how much of a dickhead I look like. Truth is beautiful after all. I’m not embarrassed of truth. On a night out though? Don’t say ‘tell me what’s in your heart’. The only thing in my heart on a night out, is Sambuca.
This human being in question frustrates my soul. She knows it. She enjoys it. I want to punch her in the head every time she looks at me. I also want to kiss her though. Even if she is only a 4/10 kisser at best. My perfect night would be punching her then kissing her. Not in an abusive way, in a loving way. A loving punch. Still quite hard though. In the face.
I quite like her, sometimes. She’s alright. As in, I quite like when she’s standing, sitting, or lying next to me. Just so I know where she is. Not in the ‘your mine, and you stay there’ kind of way. I’m not Fritzl. I’m thinking more of a ‘I know every man in the world will fancy you and I don’t want you to get raped’ kind of way. Like when we’re walking around nightclubs and people just look at her and well just look. If they came up trying to rape her, I could fend them off with my jokes, or wrestle them. I’ve been doing press-ups.
I’m in that position to give girls advice on men. I am a man. I hate them. I hate myself.
I know the lies, I know the games. I created them.
Maybe I’m fooling myself? Maybe they won’t rape her. For all I know I could be fending off a Doctor or a Lawyer, respectable citizens who given the chance could make her happy for the rest of her life.
Fuck it, I’ve decided I hate her. She brings nothing but trouble to my days. Popping up on Facebook moaning every two seconds. Texting me telling me how she’s eaten uncooked fish. Telling the same old story over and over again about how she had to have a filling. I bet Russell Brand doesn’t have to put up with this.
She’s fucking annoying. Don’t turn up to my God damn pub, standing next to me texting the boy you were getting with a couple of weeks ago. I can see it. I don’t want to look. My eyes drag me over. I’m not jealous. Jealousy would mean I would want to be him. I don’t. I want to be me. I like it. I genuinely believe I’m the best person ever. Better than God, Jesus and David Beckham. I see that textingness, and it makes me a little bit sad. Not that sad I’d do a facebook status about it, but just that kind of ‘oh, better go try and move on now, keep my coolness intact’, type sadness. Then I have to stay with her the whole night!! I could be off finding an intoxicated elder lady to wine and dine at fancy restaurants like Nandos. Instead I’m sitting next to her typing status’s into Rocco’s phone thinking it’s the most hilarious thing ever. I could be trying to get with my mate’s sister who keeps giving me the come to bed eyes, but instead I’m sitting with her big head lying on my shoulder. I didn’t sign up for this. I signed up for trying to steal her off her boyfriend, and show her life was much more fun over here where I play games. Somewhere though, on my journey of bothering someone who is in simple terms beautiful, I got distracted, by talking and getting to know her. I went a little bit off course and my game plan changed, and it seems as if just being next to her is normal now. Just for me to turn around and her be there, grinning at her own jokes, is just natural. Bloody frustrating though, a couple of months ago she’s in my bed doing kissing with me, wrapped up in the WWF covers. She’s lying there looking all prettiful and we’re talking about our dad’s and that quite nice isn’t it?
What isn’t quite nice is knowing that it’s never going to happen again. Annoying. I like kissing her it’s nice. I don’t want to really kiss anybody else. I’ve had enough of kissing everyone. I will if I have to though, I’m not a mug. But even so, even if I feel like I am capable of winning her heart, I don’t know if I really want to anymore. It’s not laziness, it’s more like acceptance, but not acceptance, something like that though. It’s not pride because she got with someone else after the times I got with her, but it’s something like that. It’s like realization, that she has to live her life, even if that doesn’t involve me in the position I want. I wish I could live loads of different lives, and make different decisions and act in different ways. Yeah, it’s like the acceptance of realization. Which I haven’t quite accepted.
I’m not ready to accept my membership to the friend zone, but I also find it tough to look her in the eye knowing that someone else has kissed her lips after me. I wrote the best bloody story I could with my lips onto hers. I feel like, the best thing to do, is to willingly just put myself into the friend zone, rather than be put there. But that will change everything.
Like last night for example, I’m being normal, and friendly. Acting like a friend. Likeability Factor flying around the room. And she has the cheek to get in a mood with me. If I had spade I would of clocked her on the nose with it. The problem is, in the friend zone people don’t act the same as they do when they’re not in the friend zone. Why would I be acting the same as I was a couple of months ago? A couple months ago I wanted to get with her, I was trying to win her heart. Last night I wasn’t.
Why was she in a mood? I don’t even think there has to be a reason for girls to be in a mood these days does there? One second sitting down having a laugh, next second doesn’t want to talk to me. Actually insane. The baby face doesn’t cut it with me. I don’t have time to be wasting watching her do her ‘I’m angry with you’ face. It’s boring. A little bit cute. But mainly boring.
She’s asking me why I’m sitting there in a huff. I don’t think I was. I’m quite good at pretending. I can pretend that I don’t care if she’s getting chatted up, or texting some prat. I can still have a laugh with her. I wasn’t forced to stay with her for most of the night, it kind of just happened. As I said before, I like when she’s near me. I could sit down next to her the whole night with nobody else in the club and not be bored. I still hate her though.
I’ll give another reason, my favourite yet. She’s mental in the head. Randomly not talking to me outside, then wants to wear my jacket because she realises it’s cold. I’m a gentlemen, the last of the true romantics. I’m also a prick. She’s not talking to me, she’s not getting my jacket. I do give in though when I look at her shivering to death like a lost little puppy. She can have my scarf. Wouldn’t take it though, because she is a stubborn prick.
Sitting down on a sofa, with a jacket over your head is not cool. She was getting cool, the more she was hanging around me the cooler she got. Ruined it though didn’t she. Sitting on the sofa, with a jacket over her head. She weren’t even drunk. Just sitting their casually ,all quiet, ignoring me, with a jacket over her head. Unless she was drunk? Luckily in the Friend Zone Rules only one drink is allowed to be purchased by a boy for a girl. So her attempts to get a second Malibu & Orange from me failed miserably or otherwise she would have been paralytic.
Thinking about it, she bloody better of been drunk. For what she said next was the most cruellest thing I have ever heard come from a friend’s mouth. I was flabbergasted.
Picture this, here’s me, wanting to go home. I’ve gone back to my mates to make sure they get a taxi and get home alright. Stayed pretty sober thus not to ruin my life like I did on Halloween. Obviously, in a perfect world, I wanted her to come back to mine and watch Life Is Beautiful and talk about our dad’s. Still suspicious mind you to why she was so keen to go Watford and home. I want her to want to stay and feel safe and happy in my house. I know I live in the fucking ghetto but come on, it’s not as if I don’t know every single soul that walks the streets. Plus she’s stayed many times before and helped herself to my sausages. (sex joke for Russell if he ever reads it). You know what I mean, Little L’s fry ups.
Anyway, thinking about it, she bloody better of been drunk. For what she said next was the most cruellest thing I have ever heard come from a friend’s mouth. I was flabbergasted. I thought she may have been committing suicide in the bathroom, so I dared to step where no man should ever go. Into the bathroom, when a girl is in there. But there she was, just standing up against the wall, looking all tired and sad. I felt, like she wanted me to say something, I felt like I should, but I didn’t really know what to say, like that kid in the playground who’s getting cussed and can’t think of a comeback. Then she starts talking, and the filth she came out with, well I never! Luckily I know that she loves me, because I could have been truly offended. She ripped into my whole life. She’s gone from holding my hand in the pub, to this … ‘What the fuck do you do with your life anyway, you just sit in pubs all day and do nothing’. Not actually true. ‘You’re a prick, you know nothing about me bla bla bla’. Not actually true either. ‘You only started talking to me because you thought I was fit’. Ok, that one is true.
The point is, you’re right. A mixture of being a prick, being lazy & just feeling like I don’t want to live my life the same as everyone else, just because that’s the way it appears you have to live, has led me here. Mistakes have led me to you. Now by all means, you can use a time machine and take me back to where I could of gone Uni, or got a job. But you know what that means? That means, I’m not out on that random Thursday that you’re in Harrow. I don’t invite certain people to come and sit with us. Everyone doesn’t go back to my house and stay over, as you sit there quoting Stepbrothers. I’m not there to shout out ‘work lot’. There’s no Little L & Betty, No toy dog or Woody Key-ring, No Rusko. No 10/10 kissing. No Back Game. No hair stroking. No business cards. No leg rubbing. No Maddie. No Snories. No Hitler hair. No Katy Perry.
I would still be sitting at home thinking your just fit. Not knowing that you have a mans confirmation name. You don’t get sick because you’re scared of sick. You don’t think you’re ugly but you don’t understand why everyone fancies you. You get scared, worried and nervous about things that you don’t need to be scared, worried and nervous about. You don’t like crisps, you like kettle chips. You want to try modelling, but you’re scared, worried and nervous about it. You get overly excited about getting in to nightclubs to the point where I look at you trying to control yourself from jumping up and down and squealing. You try your best to not laugh at my jokes, but you know I’m the funniest. You’re so stubborn, you won’t give in even when you know your wrong. You have things & opinions to say. And a life away from the one that people think you live.
Anyway, I’m having a great time, not the best time. I’m not happy, but I’m not unhappy about it. I’ve barely known this person properly for 7 months, most folk have known her 7 years. I’ve got a lot of laughs and moments to catch up on. **evil grin**. I wouldn’t take it too seriously. It’s only life at the end of the day. We’re not going to get out alive. Might aswell spend it having a good time, creating memories. Maybe I’ll get pissed off now and again knowing that she’s not going to stay with me all the time, and maybe I’ll get jealous. Jealousy is often seen as a bad trait, but is it? If there is no Jealousy surely there is no love?
I’m lucky I hate her then.
For Chubsta, I hate you, with a pash. x
