Recently I gave up drinking. At first I stopped drinking at all, just to see if I could. It wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be, so since then I have been allowing myself a maximum of one slightly drunk night a month, no more than 3 drinks at other times, and both of these things only on weekends. If this system sounds complicated you have to remember that a) I am obsessed with patterns and structures. I don’t believe in chance or random luck: everything follows a course and consequently I think rules are great. Oh and b) I’m English. This is practically a 12 step programme over here.
Two days into my new found sobriety I came down with H1N1 aka swine flu. However with a house guest from Amerikey over, and feeling totally fine, I broke my NHS imposed curfew after 5 solid days of sitting in my room alone eating Ritz crackers. That evening, after foolishly standing all afternoon in a rainy park watching hipster bands play 10 minute long sets, my friend (Joanna) and I went to the pub, met up with some friends, and hunkered down in a corner giddy on fresh air and diet cola. Next to me was a boy who was quite obviously a lot younger than me, but insanely beautiful. Like a deer with cheekbones that could cut butter. God that sounds horrible. Whatever, he was BEAUTIFUL. Beautiful I tell you! Ahem. Half way through the evening most of our friends had trickled away leaving myself, Joanna, and this boy, who we’ll call Justin Bobby, his friend, and a group of insanely loud Italians clad entirely in metallic spandex. Justin Bobby and friend were drunk, the Italians were drunk, Joanna and I were not.
The evening wore on and towards closing time Joanna and I decided it was time to walk home. As we got up to leave Justin Bobby mentioned he had missed the last train and wasn’t sure where he was staying. Being a shmuck I said he could sleep on my sofa if he wanted. Justin Bobby looked unsure, he said he needed five minutes to think about it. Joanna and I sat down with the crazy Italians. FYI I’m not being xenophobic they were mental. One, the most shiny spandex covered of them, kept doing yoga moves like putting her leg behind her head while sitting on a rickety chair and making gooey eyes. Justin Bobby’s friend was entranced. Ten minutes slid by and Justin Bobby was cracking onto another of the Italians. Joanna and I reasoned that we were no longer needed. We took him aside and said that though we were leaving the offer of a sofa still stood.
Justin Bobby thought long and hard. He ushered me outside to have a cigarette and thought about it. He then dragged me back inside, still thinking. “It’s really nice of you to say I can stay on your sofa.” He said eventually. “But the thing is, if I came to your house I don’t think I would be able to sleep on the sofa.” I reassured him it was really comfy. “No, that’s not the thing. If I came to your house I might not,” He paused and took my hands in his. “I might not want to sleep on the sofa.” In case the point was totally lost he looked into my eyes. “Do you understand?”
My face turned scarlet: I understood. He squeezed my hands and his eyes turned wide as saucers. It was like being seduced by a puppy. A really hot puppy. I took a deep breath and told him that he might not have to sleep on the sofa, but I couldn’t guarantee it, and that he was very nice and I did like him rather a lot. His unflinching honesty was making me flustered and I had no idea how I would normally answer this sort of thing.
I kept thinking that if he came back he would probably not end up on the sofa either way as it was where Joanna was sleeping. Then I thought about how drunk he was and felt horribly guilty. Then I thought about how pretty he was. Then about H1N1. And finally how if I was drunk I would probably not even be here thinking about this at all. Thankfully Justin Bobby was also thinking hard. “No, I don’t think I will come with you after all.” He walked us outside and lit my cigarette. Suddenly he seemed sad and I hugged him. “It’s not cos you’re not pretty, because you are, and you’re really cool.” He bleated into my hair. All I could say was “You’re really really pretty too!” in a high and tight voice.
When I woke up the next morning I looked at the ceiling, “I love not drinking. I love not drinking. I love not drinking.” I told myself. At one point I almost started to believe it.
Photos by Annabel Mehran and Erin Jane Nelson.
7 Comments
Didn’t he also say something like, “I want to have a good time,” in a suggestive tone?
Oh yeah that was really odd, how did I forget that? But it was the way he said it looking like a Blythe doll each time that was stranger.
He probably works for the drinks companies. Seeking out young ladies who’ve lapsed into a life of sobriety. Seducing them and booting them off the wagon. He’s paid in cheekbone polish.
maybe it was “I want to have fun.”?
He was quite beautiful though, wasn’t he?
Mark – That is an amazing marketing scheme. Definitely one step up from scantily clad girls serving vodka out of tubes. Not that I’ve ever been to somewhere that would have things like that.
Joanna – I think it was “I’m a just a guy, and you know, I like to have fun.”? I really hope he never sees this.
Let’s be honest, he was probably too drunk to remember a lot of the details of that evening.
I think you could be right. Going anywhere with metallic spandex yoga girl really would have to be buffered in alcohol to stop you going mad.