'Wow! Five whole days into a new relationship'...The usual thoughts I thought to myself before sleeping. 'Maybe this could be it'...followed by the whole 'the one' thoughts.
"This goes to prove I am in fact normal, and not destined for singledom and mass loneliness in later life." I told a good friend of mine, Kayla.
"Noah, I'm so, so happy for you. You really deserve it!" She replied, sounding half surprised, but half genuine too, "So, when did you last speak?"
"Um...2 days ago." Her mouth fell open. "What?! Is that bad?"
"Well it's not exactly good."
"Oh shit...to be fair though I've been ill and quarenteened to the house." I defended myself, it was needed.
"What about text, or phone?" She said, smirking a little. It was more of a smirk of disbelief.
"Oh shit, I hope I don't fuck things up with her!" I said, taking a drink from a gingerbread latte.
In February, I was lied to by Kaci, which felt worse that cheating with her on a friend called Jason. He forgave me, and for that I'm thankful.
In May, I left my school with some good qualifications, and transfered to a new 6th Form in September.
In October, I was asked out by a girl confused with her sexuality at the time. I declined politely.
And now, now I'm with this girl, Jaime. She really is amazing. She's making my Christmas a whole lot brighter.
Saturday, December 24, 2005
Thursday, February 10, 2005
"The First Cut Is The Deepest"
Friday nights in Washington aren’t really that exciting unless you have plans. Lucky for me, I did - two weeks in a row.
While discussing our, what was going to be, boring Friday nights, Madeline told me she was taking me to a bar: “Wetherspoons?” I said, “Are you sure I’ll get in?” I was quite hesitant. I’d heard tales, most probably myths, about this place and wasn’t so sure. I reluctantly agreed and we said we’d meet at 7:30pm.
At 7:30pm I left and walked up to Madeline’s. Her mother had agreed to take us there.
When we got there I was pretty nervous. Madeline and I detoured into a small supermarket so she could buy some ‘Marlborough Lights’. Once she had them, we walked up the street until we got to ‘Wetherspoons’.
Inside, Madeline scanned the room for ‘Joe’ while I generally scanned the room, taking in as much as I could. I remember thinking to myself: ‘I want to be like a sponge, absorbing as much as I could.’ I was drunk when I thought this; it’s not something I’d usually think.
We spent the night getting drink on ‘Corona and Lime’ and smoking cigarettes, I still had some left from Jason’s party.
My drunken self had a thought: Was this really as bad as I had heard, or even anticipated? I was still waiting to be mugged, beaten up or shot. In reality, it wasn’t that bad.
During our, frequent, trips to relieve ourselves Madeline received a text message from her current boyfriend, we’ll call him ‘Adam’. ‘Adam Stevenson’ was from London and training to be a chemist. She earlier told me “he knows his work is boring so we generally don’t talk about it.”
“So, who’s it from? ‘Adam’? ‘Joe’? Tell me!” I insisted.
“It’s from ‘Adam’, he say’s he might be coming down with his friends.” She informed me.
My stomach sunk. Then once I was over the initial shock of actually meeting Madeline’s new boyfriend, I smiled. I was excited. From what I’d heard, he was nice, nicer than ‘Joe’.
After more drinks, and more cigarettes, we were both pretty drunk.
“Shit, it’s ‘Adam’.” Madeline told me.
I looked around, trying to spot his yellow t-shirt. “Where?” I enquired, standing while I searched.
She ordered me to sit down. I did. A couple of minutes later ‘Adam’ strolled over and I just sat, nodding my head, trying to act more sober than I was. We spoke, well, when I say ‘we spoke’ it was mostly Madeline and ‘Adam’ speaking while I was nodding my head, making sure I didn’t put my foot in it.
He left and sat with his friends, of course, Madeline commented on this to me when he’d gone.
She said something like: “Fine. Bastard!” and I agreed. We left around twenty minutes later. We wandered down the street to ‘The Tavern’, a bar where my uncle works as the DJ. I told Madeline about how at Jason’s party, Jason kissed our friends’ then girlfriend Kaci. She seemed shock, but maybe it was just the alcohol.
“So yeah, you remember Kaci? Well, Jason apparently kissed her, as in seriously kissed her.” I told her.
I don’t remember her reply. It was something derogatory. What I didn’t tell Madeline at that time was how I had started liking Kaci.
I drank more as the night went on, as did Madeline. Eventually we figured it was time to go and we waited for Madeline’s mother to come get us.
The Friday after I went to the Newcastle ‘Eagles’ basketball game, along with 7,000 other people. They won, and I had lost my voice by the time the match had finished. Tanya and Marissa persuaded me to go out with them so I phoned Madeline and we arranged to meet at ‘The Tavern’.
We met her and I got semi-drunk. Drunk enough I thought it would be ok for me to text Kaci. I asked Marissa what she thought.“Maybe I should text Kaci. What do you think?”
“No. Don’t do it. You’ll regret it!” She seemed pretty sure that I shouldn’t do it.
We moved onto ‘The Delaware’ after and that’s when ‘Adam’ surprised Madeline by showing up.
“Shit! There’s Adam.” She said it without moving her lips. I looked over and saw him walking towards us.
“Not drunk tonight then?” He said to me.
“No, not really.” I said, grinning...embarrassed.
Eventually, Marissa, Tanya and I left and we got into a taxi. When I got home I texted Kaci.
Kaci Scott was a year younger than me. Her beauty seemed to entice me. After Jason’s party, her then boyfriend and her split up and Jason asked her out. It seemed so wrong for Kaci and Jason to be girlfriend/boyfriend. They just weren’t compatible. When I found out my stomach dropped. It was only then did I realise how much I liked her and how much I wanted to be the one going out with her. Jason didn’t care - he was desperate. The first cut seemed to be the deepest. I was just waiting for something worse to happen, something that would take my mind of Jason and Kaci.
“Hi Kaci. I know I’ll probably regret this when I'm sober but so. I know you’re going out with Jason but I really, really, really like you. I don’t know. It’s strange. Text me back, Noah x.”
That morning I woke up. My head was banging and I had this feeling that I’d done something I knew I’d regret. I was right. I remember sending her a text message. I felt like a shit-head. I had to face her Monday morning. Jason was in Austria, skiing and probably fucking some random girl.
I had a thought: would Jason really mind if I ‘stole’ Kaci from him?
I talked to Madeline on the phone the next morning:“I sent her a text message, a fucking text message.”
“What did it say?” she asked.
“Something about me really, really liking her and regretting sending this when I'm sober. Oh fuck, what have I done?” I’d been questioning myself, and running my hands through my hair, all day.
“Has she replied yet?”
“No. What if she’s told Jason?” I worried that this could be the end of the fourteen-year long friendship I’d had with him.
“To be honest Noah, I really don’t think Jason would mind if you and Kaci got together. I honestly don’t think he would.” She told me.
“You think?” I sat and wondered all day after the phone call. What would I say to her on Monday? What if she didn’t get it? What if she’d told Jason? All of these “what ifs” were running through my mind. I guess I’d have to wait until Monday morning.
While discussing our, what was going to be, boring Friday nights, Madeline told me she was taking me to a bar: “Wetherspoons?” I said, “Are you sure I’ll get in?” I was quite hesitant. I’d heard tales, most probably myths, about this place and wasn’t so sure. I reluctantly agreed and we said we’d meet at 7:30pm.
At 7:30pm I left and walked up to Madeline’s. Her mother had agreed to take us there.
When we got there I was pretty nervous. Madeline and I detoured into a small supermarket so she could buy some ‘Marlborough Lights’. Once she had them, we walked up the street until we got to ‘Wetherspoons’.
Inside, Madeline scanned the room for ‘Joe’ while I generally scanned the room, taking in as much as I could. I remember thinking to myself: ‘I want to be like a sponge, absorbing as much as I could.’ I was drunk when I thought this; it’s not something I’d usually think.
We spent the night getting drink on ‘Corona and Lime’ and smoking cigarettes, I still had some left from Jason’s party.
My drunken self had a thought: Was this really as bad as I had heard, or even anticipated? I was still waiting to be mugged, beaten up or shot. In reality, it wasn’t that bad.
During our, frequent, trips to relieve ourselves Madeline received a text message from her current boyfriend, we’ll call him ‘Adam’. ‘Adam Stevenson’ was from London and training to be a chemist. She earlier told me “he knows his work is boring so we generally don’t talk about it.”
“So, who’s it from? ‘Adam’? ‘Joe’? Tell me!” I insisted.
“It’s from ‘Adam’, he say’s he might be coming down with his friends.” She informed me.
My stomach sunk. Then once I was over the initial shock of actually meeting Madeline’s new boyfriend, I smiled. I was excited. From what I’d heard, he was nice, nicer than ‘Joe’.
After more drinks, and more cigarettes, we were both pretty drunk.
“Shit, it’s ‘Adam’.” Madeline told me.
I looked around, trying to spot his yellow t-shirt. “Where?” I enquired, standing while I searched.
She ordered me to sit down. I did. A couple of minutes later ‘Adam’ strolled over and I just sat, nodding my head, trying to act more sober than I was. We spoke, well, when I say ‘we spoke’ it was mostly Madeline and ‘Adam’ speaking while I was nodding my head, making sure I didn’t put my foot in it.
He left and sat with his friends, of course, Madeline commented on this to me when he’d gone.
She said something like: “Fine. Bastard!” and I agreed. We left around twenty minutes later. We wandered down the street to ‘The Tavern’, a bar where my uncle works as the DJ. I told Madeline about how at Jason’s party, Jason kissed our friends’ then girlfriend Kaci. She seemed shock, but maybe it was just the alcohol.
“So yeah, you remember Kaci? Well, Jason apparently kissed her, as in seriously kissed her.” I told her.
I don’t remember her reply. It was something derogatory. What I didn’t tell Madeline at that time was how I had started liking Kaci.
I drank more as the night went on, as did Madeline. Eventually we figured it was time to go and we waited for Madeline’s mother to come get us.
The Friday after I went to the Newcastle ‘Eagles’ basketball game, along with 7,000 other people. They won, and I had lost my voice by the time the match had finished. Tanya and Marissa persuaded me to go out with them so I phoned Madeline and we arranged to meet at ‘The Tavern’.
We met her and I got semi-drunk. Drunk enough I thought it would be ok for me to text Kaci. I asked Marissa what she thought.“Maybe I should text Kaci. What do you think?”
“No. Don’t do it. You’ll regret it!” She seemed pretty sure that I shouldn’t do it.
We moved onto ‘The Delaware’ after and that’s when ‘Adam’ surprised Madeline by showing up.
“Shit! There’s Adam.” She said it without moving her lips. I looked over and saw him walking towards us.
“Not drunk tonight then?” He said to me.
“No, not really.” I said, grinning...embarrassed.
Eventually, Marissa, Tanya and I left and we got into a taxi. When I got home I texted Kaci.
Kaci Scott was a year younger than me. Her beauty seemed to entice me. After Jason’s party, her then boyfriend and her split up and Jason asked her out. It seemed so wrong for Kaci and Jason to be girlfriend/boyfriend. They just weren’t compatible. When I found out my stomach dropped. It was only then did I realise how much I liked her and how much I wanted to be the one going out with her. Jason didn’t care - he was desperate. The first cut seemed to be the deepest. I was just waiting for something worse to happen, something that would take my mind of Jason and Kaci.
“Hi Kaci. I know I’ll probably regret this when I'm sober but so. I know you’re going out with Jason but I really, really, really like you. I don’t know. It’s strange. Text me back, Noah x.”
That morning I woke up. My head was banging and I had this feeling that I’d done something I knew I’d regret. I was right. I remember sending her a text message. I felt like a shit-head. I had to face her Monday morning. Jason was in Austria, skiing and probably fucking some random girl.
I had a thought: would Jason really mind if I ‘stole’ Kaci from him?
I talked to Madeline on the phone the next morning:“I sent her a text message, a fucking text message.”
“What did it say?” she asked.
“Something about me really, really liking her and regretting sending this when I'm sober. Oh fuck, what have I done?” I’d been questioning myself, and running my hands through my hair, all day.
“Has she replied yet?”
“No. What if she’s told Jason?” I worried that this could be the end of the fourteen-year long friendship I’d had with him.
“To be honest Noah, I really don’t think Jason would mind if you and Kaci got together. I honestly don’t think he would.” She told me.
“You think?” I sat and wondered all day after the phone call. What would I say to her on Monday? What if she didn’t get it? What if she’d told Jason? All of these “what ifs” were running through my mind. I guess I’d have to wait until Monday morning.
Sunday, January 16, 2005
"Vodka, Cigarettes...and Two Old Friends"
Friday nights, in the ever-growing town of Washington in the North-East of England, allow you to get drunk, smoke and have a good time. On a recent Friday night I’d been invited to my friend Jason’s birthday party, even though his birthday was on the Tuesday.
While I was getting ready, the phone rang. It was Madeline.
“Hi Noah, do you still want me to buy you some Vodka and cigarettes for Jason’s party?” She asked me.
“Yeah that would be great Madeline.” I replied.
We discussed what size bottle of Vodka and what cigarettes I wanted then she said:
“Ok, well my mum’s taking me so I’ll meet you there.”
“You’re coming?” I said, obviously shocked.
“Yeah, Jason said I could. In fact, how are you getting there?” She asked.
“In a taxi, with Jasmine and Kayla. You could probably get in with us.” I said.
“Yeah, that would be great Noah. My mum doesn’t know where it is. What time will I meet you?”
“Um, Jasmine is coming to mine for 6:30pm so just for then.”
“Ok, great, I’ll see you then.”
“Bye.”
I put the phone down. I know the reason Jason hadn’t invited Madeline to his party until she confronted him about it. He knew it would be uncomfortable for Madeline, Nathaniel and Laila. Madeline and Nathaniel had this whole history and it would be true to say that everyone knew Laila, Nathaniel’s present girlfriend, was not happy with it. Jason, being as smart as he is, knew things would get tense and chose Nathaniel and Laila over Madeline.
I had a thought: Why did Jason choose Nathaniel and Laila over Madeline in the first place? It turned out the Jasmine had already arrived at Kayla’s house so Madeline and I walked down there. Madeline had bought me my Vodka and cigarettes and had also bought some sort of Vodka drink for herself with her pack of twenty Marlborough Lights.
The taxi took us to Jason’s house and after searching for five minutes; we finally found it. Madeline, Jasmine, Kayla and I were introduced to Jason’s ‘other friends’, who we didn’t know.
At around 7:45pm, everyone turned up. Madeline and me stood by the door, that leads to the back garden, while Laila and Nathaniel, surprisingly, or maybe not surprisingly, ignored us.
Madeline and I decided it would work out best if we got drunk. Out came the plastic cups and diet Pepsi, plus the bottle of ‘Glen’s Vodka’ that Madeline had bought me. I got drunk. Sometimes it feels like I want to escape, and in drinking and smoking, I found out how too...it was my escapism. Madeline and I went and stood outside while we smoked our way through several Marlborough Lights, something we did quite often that night. We talked about things and Marissa Bushnell, the girl in our “clique” who gets drunk, then gets emotional, and then cries, and her present boyfriend, who is also one of Madeline’s ex-boyfriends, Joshua Williams came and joined us. Marissa soon went back inside and I stood and watched Joshua and Marissa catch up. I thought to myself in my drunken state: How sweet.
It turned out that Joshua and Marissa were having another fight. Joshua later told me:“We were in the bathroom and I was going to fuck her, but, I couldn’t get it hard, you know how it is? I'm drunk so it’s probably because of the alcohol. So she just said ‘Fine!’ and stormed out, as per usual.”
“Yeah. I understand. I’ll stick up for you man.” I slurred my words as I spoke.
The night was drawing to a close. I was thinking to myself: Thank God nothing between Madeline and Laila has flared up. I guess I spoke too soon.
Laila’s brother had come to pick Laila and Nathaniel up. I went out and spoke to him, as did Skye, and Aidan. We’d met him at Nathaniel’s surprise party, back at the start of December.
Back in the house, I saw Laila walking over to Madeline. I knew something was going to happen. I was right.
Laila was pointing her finger in Madeline’s face shouting, “You ever call me a man again I’ll come after you, right?”
Madeline was obviously confused, saying, “What? This is the first time I’ve ever met you or spoke to you.”
“No, you called me a man on the phone.” She replied.
“What are you doing? You’re in someone else’s house. He’s not even your friend. You’re with Nathaniel. Have some respect.” Madeline later told me she, Laila, didn’t intimidate her.
“Come outside then!” Laila shouted.
“What? Look at yourself Laila. You’re acting like a fool.” Madeline responded.
At that point Nathaniel came and took Laila away while I pushed Madeline into the kitchen and shut the door.
However nice Laila was to me, I told Madeline: “She’s not worth it, leave it.”
“I know she’s not worth it,” Madeline said to me, piecing bits of her mobile phone together so she could phone a taxi to come and collect her and me.
The situation between Joshua and Marissa grew worse as the night went on too. I sympathised with Joshua, even though I was Marissa’s friend. Marissa’s other friends took on Joshua, making him out to be the bad guy. I thought to myself: Did they really know what was going on? Would they think differently if they did know? The majority of her friends being female, I don’t think so.
By the end of the night, I invited Joshua to get in the taxi with Madeline and I. He accepted. It was only on the way home did I say we should all go to Madeline’s house and have pizza. She didn’t seem to mind so we did.
Joshua and I stayed at Madeline’s house until around 1:30pm. Joshua and Madeline mostly did the talking. I tried to absorb their conversations as much as I could. They talked about everything that had happened since they last spoke. I felt out of place a little, but it didn’t bother me that much. I sat and ate pizza, and observed two old friends, become new friends.
Maybe this would be Madeline and I in the years to come, after she’d moved to Darlington and I’d moved to Manhattan, although at the party, I'm sure we mentioned ‘Manhattan’, ‘together’, and a ‘studio apartment’ in the same sentence. Maybe we wouldn’t have to catch up like Joshua and Madeline did because we would still talk to each other. Maybe, just, maybe. Who knows?
While I was getting ready, the phone rang. It was Madeline.
“Hi Noah, do you still want me to buy you some Vodka and cigarettes for Jason’s party?” She asked me.
“Yeah that would be great Madeline.” I replied.
We discussed what size bottle of Vodka and what cigarettes I wanted then she said:
“Ok, well my mum’s taking me so I’ll meet you there.”
“You’re coming?” I said, obviously shocked.
“Yeah, Jason said I could. In fact, how are you getting there?” She asked.
“In a taxi, with Jasmine and Kayla. You could probably get in with us.” I said.
“Yeah, that would be great Noah. My mum doesn’t know where it is. What time will I meet you?”
“Um, Jasmine is coming to mine for 6:30pm so just for then.”
“Ok, great, I’ll see you then.”
“Bye.”
I put the phone down. I know the reason Jason hadn’t invited Madeline to his party until she confronted him about it. He knew it would be uncomfortable for Madeline, Nathaniel and Laila. Madeline and Nathaniel had this whole history and it would be true to say that everyone knew Laila, Nathaniel’s present girlfriend, was not happy with it. Jason, being as smart as he is, knew things would get tense and chose Nathaniel and Laila over Madeline.
I had a thought: Why did Jason choose Nathaniel and Laila over Madeline in the first place? It turned out the Jasmine had already arrived at Kayla’s house so Madeline and I walked down there. Madeline had bought me my Vodka and cigarettes and had also bought some sort of Vodka drink for herself with her pack of twenty Marlborough Lights.
The taxi took us to Jason’s house and after searching for five minutes; we finally found it. Madeline, Jasmine, Kayla and I were introduced to Jason’s ‘other friends’, who we didn’t know.
At around 7:45pm, everyone turned up. Madeline and me stood by the door, that leads to the back garden, while Laila and Nathaniel, surprisingly, or maybe not surprisingly, ignored us.
Madeline and I decided it would work out best if we got drunk. Out came the plastic cups and diet Pepsi, plus the bottle of ‘Glen’s Vodka’ that Madeline had bought me. I got drunk. Sometimes it feels like I want to escape, and in drinking and smoking, I found out how too...it was my escapism. Madeline and I went and stood outside while we smoked our way through several Marlborough Lights, something we did quite often that night. We talked about things and Marissa Bushnell, the girl in our “clique” who gets drunk, then gets emotional, and then cries, and her present boyfriend, who is also one of Madeline’s ex-boyfriends, Joshua Williams came and joined us. Marissa soon went back inside and I stood and watched Joshua and Marissa catch up. I thought to myself in my drunken state: How sweet.
It turned out that Joshua and Marissa were having another fight. Joshua later told me:“We were in the bathroom and I was going to fuck her, but, I couldn’t get it hard, you know how it is? I'm drunk so it’s probably because of the alcohol. So she just said ‘Fine!’ and stormed out, as per usual.”
“Yeah. I understand. I’ll stick up for you man.” I slurred my words as I spoke.
The night was drawing to a close. I was thinking to myself: Thank God nothing between Madeline and Laila has flared up. I guess I spoke too soon.
Laila’s brother had come to pick Laila and Nathaniel up. I went out and spoke to him, as did Skye, and Aidan. We’d met him at Nathaniel’s surprise party, back at the start of December.
Back in the house, I saw Laila walking over to Madeline. I knew something was going to happen. I was right.
Laila was pointing her finger in Madeline’s face shouting, “You ever call me a man again I’ll come after you, right?”
Madeline was obviously confused, saying, “What? This is the first time I’ve ever met you or spoke to you.”
“No, you called me a man on the phone.” She replied.
“What are you doing? You’re in someone else’s house. He’s not even your friend. You’re with Nathaniel. Have some respect.” Madeline later told me she, Laila, didn’t intimidate her.
“Come outside then!” Laila shouted.
“What? Look at yourself Laila. You’re acting like a fool.” Madeline responded.
At that point Nathaniel came and took Laila away while I pushed Madeline into the kitchen and shut the door.
However nice Laila was to me, I told Madeline: “She’s not worth it, leave it.”
“I know she’s not worth it,” Madeline said to me, piecing bits of her mobile phone together so she could phone a taxi to come and collect her and me.
The situation between Joshua and Marissa grew worse as the night went on too. I sympathised with Joshua, even though I was Marissa’s friend. Marissa’s other friends took on Joshua, making him out to be the bad guy. I thought to myself: Did they really know what was going on? Would they think differently if they did know? The majority of her friends being female, I don’t think so.
By the end of the night, I invited Joshua to get in the taxi with Madeline and I. He accepted. It was only on the way home did I say we should all go to Madeline’s house and have pizza. She didn’t seem to mind so we did.
Joshua and I stayed at Madeline’s house until around 1:30pm. Joshua and Madeline mostly did the talking. I tried to absorb their conversations as much as I could. They talked about everything that had happened since they last spoke. I felt out of place a little, but it didn’t bother me that much. I sat and ate pizza, and observed two old friends, become new friends.
Maybe this would be Madeline and I in the years to come, after she’d moved to Darlington and I’d moved to Manhattan, although at the party, I'm sure we mentioned ‘Manhattan’, ‘together’, and a ‘studio apartment’ in the same sentence. Maybe we wouldn’t have to catch up like Joshua and Madeline did because we would still talk to each other. Maybe, just, maybe. Who knows?
Saturday, January 08, 2005
"The Place I'd Come To Fear The Most"
A couple of evenings ago, two old friends met up with another old friend, without having the fourth old friend there as she was busy with her boyfriend.
I’ll start from the beginning, which is a very good place to start.
After carrying what seemed like four thousand books home, I was just about ready to collapse and settle for an early night, the first in what was now to be known as ‘the week and a half I lived on coffee’, when the phone rang.
“Hi, is Noah there please?” Jason asked. My voice couldn’t have changed that much since an hour and a half ago, which was when I last saw him.
“It is Noah,” I answered, “What’s up?”
“It’s just it’s my Uncle’s birthday party tonight and I was wondering whether you would come to keep me company?”
“Hmmm, I'm not sure, I wanted an early night and have some work to do.” I answered.
“Noah, please come. I’ll invite Madeline and Skye, and even Aidan!” He replied. It was strange, as Jason had never really liked Aidan.
“I’ll tell you what, if any of them go, I will. Deal?” I said.
“Deal. I’ll phone Madeline now. - ” He said, hanging up before he said goodbye. I was expecting a phone call a couple of minutes later telling me what was happening, but when there was no phone call, I decided to phone Madeline.
“Hi Madeline, it’s Noah. Are you going to this party tonight? Has Jason even phoned you?” I asked her.
“Yeah, but I'm not sure whether I should. Joe came round last night and we sorted things out. I jus thought it would be easier if we got back together, now I'm thinking ‘what the fuck have I done?’” She replied.
At that point, I was thinking ‘what the fuck has she done?’ too. I like Joe, I honestly do, but Madeline has told me she loves him more like a brother than a lover.
“Aw Madeline. You’ll figure something out. So about this party, are you coming? I said I’d go if you did.” I told her.
“Yeah, go on, we’ll go. What should I wear?” She asked.
“I heard it was fancy dress.” I said, holding my laugh in.
“You’re joking? If you are I’ll kill you.” Madeline jokingly threatened.
“I'm joking. Calm down. Um, just phone Jason and ask him what the major details are. Phone me when you get some.”
“Ok, will do. Bye.”
“Bye.”
Three phone calls later; the major, and minor, details had all been sorted. Madeline and I were meeting Jason outside of ‘The Stella’ at 7pm. He said if we were there before him “wait outside because it will be strange for two unknowns walking around in the party.”
‘The Stella’ is almost a ‘working gentleman’s club’, but almost a pub too. It had function rooms, one of them being where the party was held.Madeline and I stood outside until 7:35pm, which was when Jason eventually arrived. ‘Fucker’ I thought to myself in my head, I'm sure Madeline was thinking the same.
In this town, you always know someone, who knows someone who can get you into a party, and this was one of those moments.
We walked into the function room, all eyes on us since no one seemed to recognise us. We settled at a table in the corner, hiding us from Jason’s family, or so we thought. It turned out that some of his family sat near us.
After thirty minutes or so, Madeline and I plucked up the courage to walk to the bar, without caring if Jason’s family were staring, and then looking at each other and asking: “um, does anyone know who they are?”
I didn’t know what I wanted exactly, but I knew it had to be alcoholic. Madeline ordered a pint of Cider and Black current and I got a half-pint of Cider and Black current, which I wasn’t too keen on.
Madeline and I took regular cigarette breaks, even though I wasn’t smoking at that time. I just stood with her while she offered me cigarettes and talked about Joe and Adam, who had since phoned her when we were waiting for Jason. It turned out she was ringing the wrong number and it was Alan from London.
When Madeline and I returned to the bar, she order another ‘Cider/Black’ I think she called it and I was recommended to get a ‘Diesel’, which was lager and black current mixed. I did, I got a pint of it. I still wasn’t keen on that either. I smiled most of the night, pretending to laugh at the dumb jokes they were making. And after even more cigarette breaks I ordered a Vodka and Coke, then soon after two Vodka shots, one for me and one for Madeline. Then before we left, another Vodka and Coke, which I drank pretty quickly.
Jason’s mother drove us home and I got out at Madeline’s house as I literally live four minutes away.
“Do you fancy going for a walk?” I asked her.
“Yeah sure, we should. Wait until Jason’s mum is gone, then we’ll go.” She replied.
Once his mother had gone, Madeline pulled two cigarettes from her bag, knowing I only smoke when I'm drunk, and at 11:03pm that night, I was very drunk. I stumbled around with a cigarette in my hand and eventually, I told her everything that I had been feeling since my grandfather had died.
“Seeing Jason, and how his family are close to their grandfather, it just brought back so much.” I said. “You know, when he was in hospital, I was the most scared I have ever been.” I revealed.
“I know. Well I don’t know, but I can imagine.” She replied. Madeline was so great that night.
“And when my mum rang from the hospital to tell us he’d died, I heard the tone of my Dad’s voice, and he didn’t even need to tell me. I knew it. I knew exactly what had happened. It was horrible. I burst into tears and started shouting, ‘Well why the fuck couldn’t it have been your fucking father?’ It’s the only thing I thought of. How could someone so evil, still be alive, when the nicest man I’ve ever known had to die?” I said, close to tears, drunk, and finishing the cigarette.
“I know exactly what you mean. It doesn’t seem fair does it?” Madeline replied.
I had a thought: Would I be telling Madeline all of this if the alcohol and nicotine wasn’t there, fuelling my emotions and confidence? Of course I would, she knew it all anyway, but maybe not to this extent.
I carried on about how I wanted my Dad’s father ‘fucking dead’ and how I was planning to change my name when I reached the legal age. I said: “I don’t want anything from him,” him being Alan, my Dad’s father, “Not anything, not my looks, not my blood, not my name, just my family he’s provided me!” I joked that I should change it to “Noah Sandshaw.” Madeline laughed. I told her how he’d came to my Grandfather’s funeral and how it made me so mad to know he was watching me pay my last respects to my only Grandfather by reading a letter I had wrote to him.
I guess I don’t remember much of that night when I walked with Madeline. I remember smoking two cigarettes. I remember being close to tears talking about my Grandmother’s hospital experience, although it wasn’t nearly as awful as my Grandfather’s, who had died in there, and I remember being close to tears, because of the frustration and anger I felt towards Alan, the supposed Grandfather.
That night I went to the place I had come to fear the most, my mind. I had told Madeline everything about how I had been feeling since August. She listened. She nodded. She was everything I want in a friend.
I’ll start from the beginning, which is a very good place to start.
After carrying what seemed like four thousand books home, I was just about ready to collapse and settle for an early night, the first in what was now to be known as ‘the week and a half I lived on coffee’, when the phone rang.
“Hi, is Noah there please?” Jason asked. My voice couldn’t have changed that much since an hour and a half ago, which was when I last saw him.
“It is Noah,” I answered, “What’s up?”
“It’s just it’s my Uncle’s birthday party tonight and I was wondering whether you would come to keep me company?”
“Hmmm, I'm not sure, I wanted an early night and have some work to do.” I answered.
“Noah, please come. I’ll invite Madeline and Skye, and even Aidan!” He replied. It was strange, as Jason had never really liked Aidan.
“I’ll tell you what, if any of them go, I will. Deal?” I said.
“Deal. I’ll phone Madeline now. - ” He said, hanging up before he said goodbye. I was expecting a phone call a couple of minutes later telling me what was happening, but when there was no phone call, I decided to phone Madeline.
“Hi Madeline, it’s Noah. Are you going to this party tonight? Has Jason even phoned you?” I asked her.
“Yeah, but I'm not sure whether I should. Joe came round last night and we sorted things out. I jus thought it would be easier if we got back together, now I'm thinking ‘what the fuck have I done?’” She replied.
At that point, I was thinking ‘what the fuck has she done?’ too. I like Joe, I honestly do, but Madeline has told me she loves him more like a brother than a lover.
“Aw Madeline. You’ll figure something out. So about this party, are you coming? I said I’d go if you did.” I told her.
“Yeah, go on, we’ll go. What should I wear?” She asked.
“I heard it was fancy dress.” I said, holding my laugh in.
“You’re joking? If you are I’ll kill you.” Madeline jokingly threatened.
“I'm joking. Calm down. Um, just phone Jason and ask him what the major details are. Phone me when you get some.”
“Ok, will do. Bye.”
“Bye.”
Three phone calls later; the major, and minor, details had all been sorted. Madeline and I were meeting Jason outside of ‘The Stella’ at 7pm. He said if we were there before him “wait outside because it will be strange for two unknowns walking around in the party.”
‘The Stella’ is almost a ‘working gentleman’s club’, but almost a pub too. It had function rooms, one of them being where the party was held.Madeline and I stood outside until 7:35pm, which was when Jason eventually arrived. ‘Fucker’ I thought to myself in my head, I'm sure Madeline was thinking the same.
In this town, you always know someone, who knows someone who can get you into a party, and this was one of those moments.
We walked into the function room, all eyes on us since no one seemed to recognise us. We settled at a table in the corner, hiding us from Jason’s family, or so we thought. It turned out that some of his family sat near us.
After thirty minutes or so, Madeline and I plucked up the courage to walk to the bar, without caring if Jason’s family were staring, and then looking at each other and asking: “um, does anyone know who they are?”
I didn’t know what I wanted exactly, but I knew it had to be alcoholic. Madeline ordered a pint of Cider and Black current and I got a half-pint of Cider and Black current, which I wasn’t too keen on.
Madeline and I took regular cigarette breaks, even though I wasn’t smoking at that time. I just stood with her while she offered me cigarettes and talked about Joe and Adam, who had since phoned her when we were waiting for Jason. It turned out she was ringing the wrong number and it was Alan from London.
When Madeline and I returned to the bar, she order another ‘Cider/Black’ I think she called it and I was recommended to get a ‘Diesel’, which was lager and black current mixed. I did, I got a pint of it. I still wasn’t keen on that either. I smiled most of the night, pretending to laugh at the dumb jokes they were making. And after even more cigarette breaks I ordered a Vodka and Coke, then soon after two Vodka shots, one for me and one for Madeline. Then before we left, another Vodka and Coke, which I drank pretty quickly.
Jason’s mother drove us home and I got out at Madeline’s house as I literally live four minutes away.
“Do you fancy going for a walk?” I asked her.
“Yeah sure, we should. Wait until Jason’s mum is gone, then we’ll go.” She replied.
Once his mother had gone, Madeline pulled two cigarettes from her bag, knowing I only smoke when I'm drunk, and at 11:03pm that night, I was very drunk. I stumbled around with a cigarette in my hand and eventually, I told her everything that I had been feeling since my grandfather had died.
“Seeing Jason, and how his family are close to their grandfather, it just brought back so much.” I said. “You know, when he was in hospital, I was the most scared I have ever been.” I revealed.
“I know. Well I don’t know, but I can imagine.” She replied. Madeline was so great that night.
“And when my mum rang from the hospital to tell us he’d died, I heard the tone of my Dad’s voice, and he didn’t even need to tell me. I knew it. I knew exactly what had happened. It was horrible. I burst into tears and started shouting, ‘Well why the fuck couldn’t it have been your fucking father?’ It’s the only thing I thought of. How could someone so evil, still be alive, when the nicest man I’ve ever known had to die?” I said, close to tears, drunk, and finishing the cigarette.
“I know exactly what you mean. It doesn’t seem fair does it?” Madeline replied.
I had a thought: Would I be telling Madeline all of this if the alcohol and nicotine wasn’t there, fuelling my emotions and confidence? Of course I would, she knew it all anyway, but maybe not to this extent.
I carried on about how I wanted my Dad’s father ‘fucking dead’ and how I was planning to change my name when I reached the legal age. I said: “I don’t want anything from him,” him being Alan, my Dad’s father, “Not anything, not my looks, not my blood, not my name, just my family he’s provided me!” I joked that I should change it to “Noah Sandshaw.” Madeline laughed. I told her how he’d came to my Grandfather’s funeral and how it made me so mad to know he was watching me pay my last respects to my only Grandfather by reading a letter I had wrote to him.
I guess I don’t remember much of that night when I walked with Madeline. I remember smoking two cigarettes. I remember being close to tears talking about my Grandmother’s hospital experience, although it wasn’t nearly as awful as my Grandfather’s, who had died in there, and I remember being close to tears, because of the frustration and anger I felt towards Alan, the supposed Grandfather.
That night I went to the place I had come to fear the most, my mind. I had told Madeline everything about how I had been feeling since August. She listened. She nodded. She was everything I want in a friend.
"A Day Date In The City: Part Two"
This isn’t the girl I thought she was’ I thought as I followed Peyton around the gallery. I was too nervous to take any notice of anything but Andy Warhol’s pieces. We left ‘The Biscuit Factory’ around thirty minutes after we arrived. I was easily bored by it.
“Um, so, what do you fancy doing now?” She asked me.
“I'm not sure, how about we go to the Baltic?” I answered.
“Yeah, I haven’t been there in while. Do you want to go the long or the short way?”
“The short way,” I said with a smile on my face, “obviously. I'm pretty lazy you know.”
After a long walk, which was supposedly the short way, and fifteen minutes of me complaining about the muscles in my legs hurting, we arrived at the ‘Millennium Bridge’, which you need to cross before you arrive at the ‘Baltic Centre for Contemporary Art’. The ‘Baltic’ was once a flourmill, with the side of the building still branded with “BALTIC FLOURMILL”. We walked slowly over the bridge.
“Look how dirty the water is.” She said.
“Yeah. Do you think they pump sewage into it?” I asked her.
“Probably.” She replied.
We stayed silent until we got over the bridge and were getting closer to the entrance of the next gallery.
“Wow, look at that.” I said pointing to the temporary ice rink opposite of the ‘Baltic’. “We should go ice-skating.” I said.
“I don’t go ice-skating, I’ve never been before.” She answered.
“I used to go all the time when I was younger, I couldn’t skate so I would cling onto my Dad.” It was true, I was tempted to go on and lie about how I eventually learned to skate, but if she changed her mind, I would look a fool, so I didn’t.
“Ah, that’s sweet.” She replied, half replying to my story and half indicating to the elderly man and women sitting on one of the bridge’s four benches; eating sandwiches and drinking coffee.
Scary thought: Would this be Peyton and I in fifty years?
We spent a couple of minutes observing the little children holding their parent’s hands, and the young teens in love holding hands, skating around the outside of the rink.
“Ok, so do you want to go into the art shop first, or should we look around?” asked Peyton.
“Hmmm, well, I want to look around first.” I would have said this if I wasn’t being a gentleman, but I was so I said: “Well, I'm fine with whatever you want to do.”
“Well, we’ll look around first and on our way out we’ll look in the shop.”
In the ‘Baltic’, each exhibition is given it’s own floor, with there being four floors, five including the observation box. We looked at the first exhibition floor, which I commented on as being “different” and Peyton commented on as being “just ok.”
I walked in front as I headed towards the elevators to take us up to the next floor.
“Oh Noah, these elevators make me feel nauseous. Is it ok if we take the stairs?” She asked, almost embarrassed by this.
“Yeah, that’s fine. I need some exercise anyway.” I replied, almost sounding sarcastic. Hadn’t I had enough exercise anyway from walking to ‘The Biscuit Factory’ and then the ‘Baltic’?
Was I being this kind because, self-consciously, I knew she could be the one? It was an interesting thought.
We reached the second floor, eventually, and we walked into the exhibition.
“Wow!” I said to myself. Peyton overheard.
“Yeah, I know, it’s great right?” She said.
“It sure is, this is probably my favourite one so far, ever.” I was over-exaggerating, but she would never know.
Peyton and I left the ‘Baltic’ around forty minutes after arriving. We walked to the Starbucks where I told her to get us a table and I’d be over there once I had my ‘tall mocha’.
I sat down and she looked bored.
“Aren’t you going to get anything?” I asked her.
“No. I told you about the bad Starbucks experience I had didn’t I?” She replied.
She had already told me about but she went on to tell me again, mentioning her boyfriend and an ‘iced caramel machiatto’.
We sat in silence. I sipped my mocha and Peyton looked at the guy sitting across from me. Well, actually, she was looking more at his notebook. Later, I figured that she was trying to decipher what he was writing since she was obviously bored of watching me drink coffee.
I watched her for a minute. She was still watching the same guy, who looked Spanish, scribble in his notebook.
“I'm in love with New York.” I said, hoping to start a conversation of what we want to achieve in life.
“Yeah.” She sat in silence after that. Ten minutes later I had finished my mocha. I thought to myself: What’s wrong with her? What have I done? She was ok at school, so why now was she being silent?
“I need to go now, I said I’d be back for 4pm.” I said to her.
“Yeah ok, we’ll go now.” She replied.
It seemed as if she wasn’t at all bothered about conversing with me, or interacting with me in someway. One of the strangest things I remember Peyton saying to me was:
“That church over there, apparently over 100 witches were buried there, but no one knows exactly where because they didn’t leave markings.”
“Oh. Ok. You learn something new everyday I guess.” I replied, not knowing what to say.
“Yeah. Sorry I just know these facts, I'm big on stuff like this.”
It was at that point, after visiting a witchcraft shop selling hand-made wooden wands, made from the wood of trees from the Northumberland forests, that I knew she wasn’t right for me.
On the train home, we sat in silence, and we did on the bus as well. When I think about now, most of the day was spent in silence. But, it was that awkward moment when we both left each other at the corner of Essex Drive and Heworth Road that I’d most like to forget. We weren’t sure whether we should, kiss each other on the check, on the lips, or hug, or whatever. So after about thirty seconds in silence just looking embarrassed and awkward, I said:“Ok. I better be off. I said I’d be back soon anyway.”
“Sure, yeah. I’ll probably just see you around. You have my mobile number right?” She answered.
“Yeah I do. We’ll speak soon anyway. Bye.”
I walked away from her when she said bye. The wind was blowing so strong my hair was in my eyes and my Manhattan Skyline artwork I had bought was bending. I'm sure it wasn’t that bad for a first date.
“Um, so, what do you fancy doing now?” She asked me.
“I'm not sure, how about we go to the Baltic?” I answered.
“Yeah, I haven’t been there in while. Do you want to go the long or the short way?”
“The short way,” I said with a smile on my face, “obviously. I'm pretty lazy you know.”
After a long walk, which was supposedly the short way, and fifteen minutes of me complaining about the muscles in my legs hurting, we arrived at the ‘Millennium Bridge’, which you need to cross before you arrive at the ‘Baltic Centre for Contemporary Art’. The ‘Baltic’ was once a flourmill, with the side of the building still branded with “BALTIC FLOURMILL”. We walked slowly over the bridge.
“Look how dirty the water is.” She said.
“Yeah. Do you think they pump sewage into it?” I asked her.
“Probably.” She replied.
We stayed silent until we got over the bridge and were getting closer to the entrance of the next gallery.
“Wow, look at that.” I said pointing to the temporary ice rink opposite of the ‘Baltic’. “We should go ice-skating.” I said.
“I don’t go ice-skating, I’ve never been before.” She answered.
“I used to go all the time when I was younger, I couldn’t skate so I would cling onto my Dad.” It was true, I was tempted to go on and lie about how I eventually learned to skate, but if she changed her mind, I would look a fool, so I didn’t.
“Ah, that’s sweet.” She replied, half replying to my story and half indicating to the elderly man and women sitting on one of the bridge’s four benches; eating sandwiches and drinking coffee.
Scary thought: Would this be Peyton and I in fifty years?
We spent a couple of minutes observing the little children holding their parent’s hands, and the young teens in love holding hands, skating around the outside of the rink.
“Ok, so do you want to go into the art shop first, or should we look around?” asked Peyton.
“Hmmm, well, I want to look around first.” I would have said this if I wasn’t being a gentleman, but I was so I said: “Well, I'm fine with whatever you want to do.”
“Well, we’ll look around first and on our way out we’ll look in the shop.”
In the ‘Baltic’, each exhibition is given it’s own floor, with there being four floors, five including the observation box. We looked at the first exhibition floor, which I commented on as being “different” and Peyton commented on as being “just ok.”
I walked in front as I headed towards the elevators to take us up to the next floor.
“Oh Noah, these elevators make me feel nauseous. Is it ok if we take the stairs?” She asked, almost embarrassed by this.
“Yeah, that’s fine. I need some exercise anyway.” I replied, almost sounding sarcastic. Hadn’t I had enough exercise anyway from walking to ‘The Biscuit Factory’ and then the ‘Baltic’?
Was I being this kind because, self-consciously, I knew she could be the one? It was an interesting thought.
We reached the second floor, eventually, and we walked into the exhibition.
“Wow!” I said to myself. Peyton overheard.
“Yeah, I know, it’s great right?” She said.
“It sure is, this is probably my favourite one so far, ever.” I was over-exaggerating, but she would never know.
Peyton and I left the ‘Baltic’ around forty minutes after arriving. We walked to the Starbucks where I told her to get us a table and I’d be over there once I had my ‘tall mocha’.
I sat down and she looked bored.
“Aren’t you going to get anything?” I asked her.
“No. I told you about the bad Starbucks experience I had didn’t I?” She replied.
She had already told me about but she went on to tell me again, mentioning her boyfriend and an ‘iced caramel machiatto’.
We sat in silence. I sipped my mocha and Peyton looked at the guy sitting across from me. Well, actually, she was looking more at his notebook. Later, I figured that she was trying to decipher what he was writing since she was obviously bored of watching me drink coffee.
I watched her for a minute. She was still watching the same guy, who looked Spanish, scribble in his notebook.
“I'm in love with New York.” I said, hoping to start a conversation of what we want to achieve in life.
“Yeah.” She sat in silence after that. Ten minutes later I had finished my mocha. I thought to myself: What’s wrong with her? What have I done? She was ok at school, so why now was she being silent?
“I need to go now, I said I’d be back for 4pm.” I said to her.
“Yeah ok, we’ll go now.” She replied.
It seemed as if she wasn’t at all bothered about conversing with me, or interacting with me in someway. One of the strangest things I remember Peyton saying to me was:
“That church over there, apparently over 100 witches were buried there, but no one knows exactly where because they didn’t leave markings.”
“Oh. Ok. You learn something new everyday I guess.” I replied, not knowing what to say.
“Yeah. Sorry I just know these facts, I'm big on stuff like this.”
It was at that point, after visiting a witchcraft shop selling hand-made wooden wands, made from the wood of trees from the Northumberland forests, that I knew she wasn’t right for me.
On the train home, we sat in silence, and we did on the bus as well. When I think about now, most of the day was spent in silence. But, it was that awkward moment when we both left each other at the corner of Essex Drive and Heworth Road that I’d most like to forget. We weren’t sure whether we should, kiss each other on the check, on the lips, or hug, or whatever. So after about thirty seconds in silence just looking embarrassed and awkward, I said:“Ok. I better be off. I said I’d be back soon anyway.”
“Sure, yeah. I’ll probably just see you around. You have my mobile number right?” She answered.
“Yeah I do. We’ll speak soon anyway. Bye.”
I walked away from her when she said bye. The wind was blowing so strong my hair was in my eyes and my Manhattan Skyline artwork I had bought was bending. I'm sure it wasn’t that bad for a first date.
Monday, January 03, 2005
"A Day Date In The City: Part One"
A New Year brings new dreams, new hopes, new aspirations, and a new determination that only ever lasts until the end of January for most people. This year, I was determined to join the ‘dating game’, I had give up on relationships at some point last year when I realised I was scared of commitment, but hey, who isn’t, even if just a little.
So, a few days ago, a friend of a friend, who was now my friend, we’ll call her Peyton Dylan, told me she had a thing for me. Peyton was a year younger than me, but looked older than me. She had black hair and a pale shade of white face. I took a chance and asked her out on a ‘day-date’. She said she’d ask her boyfriend if that was ok, I was shocked, as was Mischa when I told her. He said he didn’t mind and we arranged to go to an Art Gallery where Andy Warhol’s work was currently showing.
My spies told me she was having trouble with her current boyfriend who had already cheated on her four months into there, so far, seven month relationship.
Although we had arranged what we were doing, no final date was set until the day before when she rang me.
“Hi Noah? This is Peyton.”
“Oh hello. What’s up?”
“I just had a diary check,” she said giggling, “and I'm free tomorrow if you still want to go on that date.”
“Yeah sure.” I said.“I found out that the Andy Warhol exhibition at the Biscuit Factory is only until January 6th so we should go while it’s still on.”
“Yeah, yeah, that sounds cool.” I had butterflies in my stomach already.
“Okay, so if we meet at the bus stop at school at around 10.30?”
“In the morning?”
“No, at night silly,” she said sarcastically.
“Ah ok. See you then Peyton.”
“Yeah, see you then.”
I hung up and looked in the mirror. Was I a step closer to committing myself to someone? It was an interesting thought.
The night before the ‘day-date’ I stayed up until 3am reading through old journals. The nostalgia of everything and realising how much I had changed made me less nervous. I thought to myself: right about now I could use an alcoholic drink and a cigarette. It was strange as I only smoked and drank at social occasions. 9:45am, the next day, I woke up. My alarm hadn’t gone off. “Shit!” I said to myself. My hair was being a bastard that day, she even commented on it when we were in a shop, comparing it to the Beatles-style hair.
At 10:30am I left the house. I was late. I sent her a text.“I’ll be literally three minutes.” I said, hoping I would be.
10:35am and I approached the bus stop and spotted her.
“Three minutes my ass. You’ve been five. But it’s ok, I like talking to strange old women.” She said jokingly, with a smile.
I replied with: “Five minutes? Sorry. I woke up late and had to shower and then, well, that’s it.”
We only waited two minutes and the bus came. We got on and we discussed how tired I was, how tired she was, how an apple and cup of tea can wake you up on a morning and how if I fall asleep would she wake me up.
All day I was scared in case the conversation ran out. Conversation did run out three quarters of the way there. I thought, shit. I started making up possible conversations in my head.
“I think it’s so fun listening to old women’s conversations,” she said, indicating to the two old women on the next platform who were talking to loud they might as well have been broadcasting it over a speaker.
“Yeah, I haven’t exactly done that before.” I said, sounding naïve as we climbed on to the Metro.
“Oh you should Noah, you can learn a lot. Last week I heard Dave was in hospital with a bad liver, apparently he’s an alcoholic!”
“Who’s Dave?”
“I have no idea.”
“Oh, so what you really like doing is listening to other peoples lives and their problems?” I said, joking slightly, but really meaning it over all.
“No! Well, ok, yes, maybe.” She said laughing.Conversation ran out again so I asked her which station we should get off at.
“Um…whichever one you want to.” She replied.
“Ok…Monument because that’s the closest to a Starbucks and we can walk to ‘The Biscuit Factory’ from there. I need coffee. I can’t function until 2pm without it.”
“I'm not a big coffee drinker. Bad Starbucks experience.” She said.
Bad Starbucks experience? How can that be? Starbucks is my ecstasy, and I can feel myself falling towards the addiction.
I collected my ‘grande mocha to take away’ and she told me: “Make sure I don’t buy any Dorothy shoes, now that’s my addiction.”
“Dorothy shoes? What are they?” I asked.
“Like the ones Dorothy wears in the Wizard of Oz.” She replied.
We made small talk all the way there, most of which was me asking, “are you sure you know where you’re going?” “How much longer will we be?” and “Can I see the Gallery from here?”
‘The Biscuit Factory’ was a quite new art gallery which held modern art as well as a lot of older art.
“I like seeing the more modern art, brighter colours, better patterns. I just love the modern art more.” I told her.
“You see, I like both types of art, and if I had to choose between the both, I couldn’t. I have my eye on Andy Warhol’s ‘Marilyn Monroe’ piece, £50,000 plus V.A.T.” She sighed. I could tell by this she loved art much more than me. “But, I just don’t have £50,000 plus to give away. I love it so much too. Maybe Christmas?” She said, giggling slightly.
I thought to myself: maybe she wasn’t the girl I thought she was. I then thought: I still have the rest of the day to find out.
Thursday, December 30, 2004
“…And this, ladies and gentlemen, is how a friendship is ruined by a relationship”
There’s only two times when you can ever become a ‘we’. One: the Royal we. Two: the most common of the two, if you’re in a relationship, but until then, you’re stuck as an ‘I’, and that’s single.
When you enter a relationship, ‘I’ automatically becomes a ‘we’ and ‘me’ automatically becomes an ‘us’.
‘Sorry, we can’t meet you for coffee.’
‘Us? We like having sex three times a day.’
‘Stop making fun of us!’
‘Is it ok if we meet up with you?’
‘Sorry, we’re not going anymore.’
It made me think: you share your thoughts and your body with the one you love, but do you really have to share your life?
“Doesn’t dating seem much easier than actual ‘tie-yourself-down’ relationships?” I discussed with Madeline as we travelled to Newcastle once.
“Yeah, I mean, there’s no hassle, no strict rules, no ‘oh my god, you didn’t call me?’ ” Madeline replied.
Madeline was right. There were no strict rules with dating. Why was dating not as popular? Why were so many people jumping straight into relationships without getting know their partner until they were fully committed in a relationship?
A few days passed and I arranged to meet Madeline in the city. We met at the monument and after wandering up Northumberland Street we met Joe and Joe’s mother, Darla.
“Noah, this is Joe’s mum, Darla. Darla this is Noah.” Madeline said.
“Hi, I’ve heard quite a lot about you.” She said. Maybe she was lying, I couldn’t tell.
“And it was all bad,” Madeline joked. I laughed.
Darla, Madeline and I followed Joe out of the shop. When we got out; Darla pulled a ‘Lambert and Butler’ cigarette out of her pocket and we walked back down Northumberland Street as she smoked it. We turned down a little street and stopped for a coffee at a small, underground café that had a tanning salon in the back of it. I ordered mocha, Madeline ordered an iced-mocha and Darla ordered a cappuccino. We sat in the smoking area and Darla asked:“I hope you don’t have this dirty habit,” as she pulled another Lambert and Butler from the packet.
“He does when he wants to,” Madeline told Darla. Madeline talked to Darla as if she were a friend and not her ex-boyfriend’s mother. Madeline told me that she was meant to be meeting Darla today, alone, but Joe turned up with Darla.
I had a thought: Was it hard for Madeline to let go of Joe because she was so attached to Darla? Was it like she was really in a relationship with his mother instead of him?
Joe came and met us in the coffee shop and Madeline, Darla and Joe smoked their way through cigarettes while I drank my way through the mocha.
When we left the coffee shop, Joe got angry and went home so I stayed with Madeline and Darla as they looked at clothes and shoes. We were planning on going to a shopping centre near by but we decided not to. Darla and Madeline went home and I stayed in the city. Skye had said her and Aidan were coming over so we were going to go to Starbucks to catch up. I had a new text message on my phone.
“Yeah, we’re definitely coming, but how much longer are you spending there? We’re leaving in 10 minutes. We shouldn’t be long. Skye x”
Four text messages later, three of them saying they’d be another fifteen minutes, Skye finally cancelled: “Hi, I’m really sorry but we can’t come. I hope you can forgive me. Tell Madeline I say hello. Skye x.”
And this, ladies and gentlemen, is how a friendship is ruined by a relationship. The ‘I have no time to see you’ turns to ‘We have no time to see you’ which hurts even more.
Is it time I gave up on Skye, just as Madeline has done? I’ve been thinking about it for a while but the sentimentality of our friendship means too much for me to make a decision without thinking about it more.
I got her message while I was ordering a ‘grande mocha’ from Starbucks. I changed the order so I could take it out because I got pissed off and wanted to go home.
“Hi, I just ordered the grande mocha to stay in with, is there anyway I can change that to take out now?”
“Yeah, your order hasn’t been made yet so I can change it for you.”
“Thank you.”
“It should be at the end of the counter soon.”
I took my mocha and rode the metro and bus home, alone.
Another thought: How many times can Skye shit on me like this? Ok, once, shame on her, twice, three times, four times, many more times, shame on me. It really was shame on me. I was sick of being shamed.
So, in a world where “we” over rules “I”, relationships really do destroy friendships.
When you enter a relationship, ‘I’ automatically becomes a ‘we’ and ‘me’ automatically becomes an ‘us’.
‘Sorry, we can’t meet you for coffee.’
‘Us? We like having sex three times a day.’
‘Stop making fun of us!’
‘Is it ok if we meet up with you?’
‘Sorry, we’re not going anymore.’
It made me think: you share your thoughts and your body with the one you love, but do you really have to share your life?
“Doesn’t dating seem much easier than actual ‘tie-yourself-down’ relationships?” I discussed with Madeline as we travelled to Newcastle once.
“Yeah, I mean, there’s no hassle, no strict rules, no ‘oh my god, you didn’t call me?’ ” Madeline replied.
Madeline was right. There were no strict rules with dating. Why was dating not as popular? Why were so many people jumping straight into relationships without getting know their partner until they were fully committed in a relationship?
A few days passed and I arranged to meet Madeline in the city. We met at the monument and after wandering up Northumberland Street we met Joe and Joe’s mother, Darla.
“Noah, this is Joe’s mum, Darla. Darla this is Noah.” Madeline said.
“Hi, I’ve heard quite a lot about you.” She said. Maybe she was lying, I couldn’t tell.
“And it was all bad,” Madeline joked. I laughed.
Darla, Madeline and I followed Joe out of the shop. When we got out; Darla pulled a ‘Lambert and Butler’ cigarette out of her pocket and we walked back down Northumberland Street as she smoked it. We turned down a little street and stopped for a coffee at a small, underground café that had a tanning salon in the back of it. I ordered mocha, Madeline ordered an iced-mocha and Darla ordered a cappuccino. We sat in the smoking area and Darla asked:“I hope you don’t have this dirty habit,” as she pulled another Lambert and Butler from the packet.
“He does when he wants to,” Madeline told Darla. Madeline talked to Darla as if she were a friend and not her ex-boyfriend’s mother. Madeline told me that she was meant to be meeting Darla today, alone, but Joe turned up with Darla.
I had a thought: Was it hard for Madeline to let go of Joe because she was so attached to Darla? Was it like she was really in a relationship with his mother instead of him?
Joe came and met us in the coffee shop and Madeline, Darla and Joe smoked their way through cigarettes while I drank my way through the mocha.
When we left the coffee shop, Joe got angry and went home so I stayed with Madeline and Darla as they looked at clothes and shoes. We were planning on going to a shopping centre near by but we decided not to. Darla and Madeline went home and I stayed in the city. Skye had said her and Aidan were coming over so we were going to go to Starbucks to catch up. I had a new text message on my phone.
“Yeah, we’re definitely coming, but how much longer are you spending there? We’re leaving in 10 minutes. We shouldn’t be long. Skye x”
Four text messages later, three of them saying they’d be another fifteen minutes, Skye finally cancelled: “Hi, I’m really sorry but we can’t come. I hope you can forgive me. Tell Madeline I say hello. Skye x.”
And this, ladies and gentlemen, is how a friendship is ruined by a relationship. The ‘I have no time to see you’ turns to ‘We have no time to see you’ which hurts even more.
Is it time I gave up on Skye, just as Madeline has done? I’ve been thinking about it for a while but the sentimentality of our friendship means too much for me to make a decision without thinking about it more.
I got her message while I was ordering a ‘grande mocha’ from Starbucks. I changed the order so I could take it out because I got pissed off and wanted to go home.
“Hi, I just ordered the grande mocha to stay in with, is there anyway I can change that to take out now?”
“Yeah, your order hasn’t been made yet so I can change it for you.”
“Thank you.”
“It should be at the end of the counter soon.”
I took my mocha and rode the metro and bus home, alone.
Another thought: How many times can Skye shit on me like this? Ok, once, shame on her, twice, three times, four times, many more times, shame on me. It really was shame on me. I was sick of being shamed.
So, in a world where “we” over rules “I”, relationships really do destroy friendships.
"The Return of Nush - Fate?"
A self-obsessed, new generation teenager, that I’ll call Jennifer, threw a party, uncharacteristically on a Monday night. It was a celebration that we’d completed our final ‘Winter Term’, in our final year of school. It was also to make sure our ‘Secret Santa’s’ didn’t get away without giving out their presents to their chosen friends. I luckily pulled Skye out of the hat. I bought her the debut Gwen Stefani record. She seemed please, not that I was too bothered. I received the Green Day record, ‘American Idiot’, from Tanya; I was there when she bought it so there was no surprise to be surprised with.
The party was dull, Aidan and I walked to the convenience store over the road, I bought Pepsi. I wasn’t in the mood for alcohol. We wandered back to Jennifer’s house and it was decided we would all play ‘spin the bottle’. It was boring and we soon moved on to an even more boring game of ‘truth or dare?’ By this point I thought I was going to fall asleep, and by 10pm, I’d made plans to jump into Skye and Aidan’s taxi.
The following morning Jason waked me at 11am. He wouldn’t stop phoning so eventually I had to answer.
“What?”
“Hi… are you alright?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. You woke me though.”
“Oh sorry,” I knew he didn’t mean it, “Anyway, I was wondering whether you, Madeline and Skye fancied doing something, um, not today, not tomorrow, not Wednesday or Thursday but Friday?”
“Um, I will, but I don’t think Skye can, Aidan and his family are taking her to a church to give presents to the homeless. Hey! Don’t laugh, I’m being serious.”
“Oh. I thought you were joking. What about Madeline? Do you think she will?”
“I’m not sure, maybe.”
“Okay, you phone Skye, just to check, and I’ll phone Madeline.”
“Right. Goodbye.” I hung up.
I told Madeline most of the details of the party, and Jason’s phone call, the next morning over the phone. She sounded glad that she wasn’t invited to these events and I was also informed Jason hadn’t phoned her. She told me she’d made a ‘mistake’ with Joe, once last night, and once this morning. She blamed it on the alcohol last night, thought she never made an excuse for this morning, not that I was expecting one. We made plans to do something and at 5pm, she knocked on my door and we stood at the bus stop. Like all the other times, a bus ride and metro ride later, we were standing in the line at Starbucks waiting for my ‘grande mocha’ and Madeline’s ‘tall mocha’. We stayed in Starbucks until closing time, which is a pretty early 6:30pm. While in Starbucks, Madeline told me about her dates with ‘Adam’ and Joe’s breakdown. Because of Joe’s breakdown, Madeline stopped dating ‘Adam’ because the guilt was too much for her to take.
“I phoned him last night,” she told me while sipping on her ‘tall mocha’ and looking around for any signs that indicate that she can’t smoke, “he pretended to be someone else. I suppose I deserve it for ignoring him for three weeks, but I needed to sort my own shit out.”
“What did he say?” I inquired.“He pretended to be someone called Alan from London. He’s from London anyway so he didn’t need to change his accent, but I knew it was him.”
I had a thought: was the only way to break up with someone pretending to be someone else until you get the hint?
She was pissed about it, although I would be too. A good job, a healthy wage, a “glamorous lifestyle”, as Madeline put it, and a BMW would be gone. “It’s more than what I had with Joe”
At 6:31pm we walked up to “The Gate”, an exclusive hot spot in the city, surrounded by clubs and bars, which is only three or four streets away from Starbucks. “The Gate” itself was made up of bars, restaurants and on the third, and final, floor, a cinema and “sky terrace”. Madeline and I made our way to the cinema and purchased our tickets for the 7:40pm showing of the movie, “Christmas with the Kranks”.
We waited, we waited even more and eventually, at 7:12pm, we got into the cinema. I bought Peanut M&M’s and we made our way through them.
After the movie, we made our way down to Central Station. I had to use the toilet under the bridge there and I’m sure the guy who came out before me was using drugs in there. I pissed. Thank God I’m a man so I didn’t have to sit down.
“Doesn’t the trip back always seem shorter compared to the trip there?” I said to Madeline.
“Yeah,” she replied.
“Wouldn’t it be so much better if this wasn’t the Metro, but it was in fact the Subway, in New York, and, we weren’t on our way home, we were on our way to our Manhattan studio apartments?”
She nodded, and smiled, I could tell it was forced but I didn’t care. I was too caught up in the fantasy of being on the Subway, in New York City, and going to my Manhattan studio apartment.
Picture this:One night later, I was lying in bed watching a rerun of “Sex and The City”. My phone signalled to me that I had a new text message. Nush. I wondered if my life was bound down to these text messages from her.
“Hi. Long time no speak. How are you? What have you been up to? Text me back, Nush x”
I had a thought: what if this was the girl I was meant to fall in love with?I decided to reply to her message.
“Yeah, long time no speak,” what she doesn’t know was I had been writing about her two nights before, “I’ve been up to nothing, how about you? Noah x”
Nine text messages, nine chances to ask her out on a date, and nine songs later on my iPod, Nush said she was going to bed. I told her to have sweet dreams.
The party was dull, Aidan and I walked to the convenience store over the road, I bought Pepsi. I wasn’t in the mood for alcohol. We wandered back to Jennifer’s house and it was decided we would all play ‘spin the bottle’. It was boring and we soon moved on to an even more boring game of ‘truth or dare?’ By this point I thought I was going to fall asleep, and by 10pm, I’d made plans to jump into Skye and Aidan’s taxi.
The following morning Jason waked me at 11am. He wouldn’t stop phoning so eventually I had to answer.
“What?”
“Hi… are you alright?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. You woke me though.”
“Oh sorry,” I knew he didn’t mean it, “Anyway, I was wondering whether you, Madeline and Skye fancied doing something, um, not today, not tomorrow, not Wednesday or Thursday but Friday?”
“Um, I will, but I don’t think Skye can, Aidan and his family are taking her to a church to give presents to the homeless. Hey! Don’t laugh, I’m being serious.”
“Oh. I thought you were joking. What about Madeline? Do you think she will?”
“I’m not sure, maybe.”
“Okay, you phone Skye, just to check, and I’ll phone Madeline.”
“Right. Goodbye.” I hung up.
I told Madeline most of the details of the party, and Jason’s phone call, the next morning over the phone. She sounded glad that she wasn’t invited to these events and I was also informed Jason hadn’t phoned her. She told me she’d made a ‘mistake’ with Joe, once last night, and once this morning. She blamed it on the alcohol last night, thought she never made an excuse for this morning, not that I was expecting one. We made plans to do something and at 5pm, she knocked on my door and we stood at the bus stop. Like all the other times, a bus ride and metro ride later, we were standing in the line at Starbucks waiting for my ‘grande mocha’ and Madeline’s ‘tall mocha’. We stayed in Starbucks until closing time, which is a pretty early 6:30pm. While in Starbucks, Madeline told me about her dates with ‘Adam’ and Joe’s breakdown. Because of Joe’s breakdown, Madeline stopped dating ‘Adam’ because the guilt was too much for her to take.
“I phoned him last night,” she told me while sipping on her ‘tall mocha’ and looking around for any signs that indicate that she can’t smoke, “he pretended to be someone else. I suppose I deserve it for ignoring him for three weeks, but I needed to sort my own shit out.”
“What did he say?” I inquired.“He pretended to be someone called Alan from London. He’s from London anyway so he didn’t need to change his accent, but I knew it was him.”
I had a thought: was the only way to break up with someone pretending to be someone else until you get the hint?
She was pissed about it, although I would be too. A good job, a healthy wage, a “glamorous lifestyle”, as Madeline put it, and a BMW would be gone. “It’s more than what I had with Joe”
At 6:31pm we walked up to “The Gate”, an exclusive hot spot in the city, surrounded by clubs and bars, which is only three or four streets away from Starbucks. “The Gate” itself was made up of bars, restaurants and on the third, and final, floor, a cinema and “sky terrace”. Madeline and I made our way to the cinema and purchased our tickets for the 7:40pm showing of the movie, “Christmas with the Kranks”.
We waited, we waited even more and eventually, at 7:12pm, we got into the cinema. I bought Peanut M&M’s and we made our way through them.
After the movie, we made our way down to Central Station. I had to use the toilet under the bridge there and I’m sure the guy who came out before me was using drugs in there. I pissed. Thank God I’m a man so I didn’t have to sit down.
“Doesn’t the trip back always seem shorter compared to the trip there?” I said to Madeline.
“Yeah,” she replied.
“Wouldn’t it be so much better if this wasn’t the Metro, but it was in fact the Subway, in New York, and, we weren’t on our way home, we were on our way to our Manhattan studio apartments?”
She nodded, and smiled, I could tell it was forced but I didn’t care. I was too caught up in the fantasy of being on the Subway, in New York City, and going to my Manhattan studio apartment.
Picture this:One night later, I was lying in bed watching a rerun of “Sex and The City”. My phone signalled to me that I had a new text message. Nush. I wondered if my life was bound down to these text messages from her.
“Hi. Long time no speak. How are you? What have you been up to? Text me back, Nush x”
I had a thought: what if this was the girl I was meant to fall in love with?I decided to reply to her message.
“Yeah, long time no speak,” what she doesn’t know was I had been writing about her two nights before, “I’ve been up to nothing, how about you? Noah x”
Nine text messages, nine chances to ask her out on a date, and nine songs later on my iPod, Nush said she was going to bed. I told her to have sweet dreams.
"The Relationship Famine"
“I have to go, my girlfriend’s coming over.” I lied. It was one of those lies you know will never come back to haunt you because you lied so you could block the ‘buddy’ who IM-ed you first, who you never talked to in your life before that first “hey” or “how are you?”
Even though it wasn’t true, and I knew it wasn’t true, it felt so good to have that sense of security that relationships bring flash before my eyes in the chat box. I quickly shut down the chat box and blocked the ‘buddy’. But when the chat box disappeared, so did that sense of security that comes with relationships.
Not being in a relationship didn’t bother me until I realised that maybe it’s been too long since my last relationship. Two years, has it really been that long? ‘Maybe I miscounted’ I thought to myself, but I hadn’t, it really had been two years.
Six, maybe seven, months ago, this famine of relationships in my life nearly ended, but it was my fear of commitment that kept it going. Legally known as Anouska, but socially known as Nush. She was a beautiful, olive-skinned, girl who was two years younger than me, but her perfume reeked maturity. We met through Jason, at a fair ground in Durham, a smaller city just outside of Newcastle. We didn’t initially click. I was more interested in her friend Lisa, who was a year older than me. She had long, dark hair and the most striking eyes. She didn’t seem interested so I was keen to play with Nush.
We flirted all afternoon. We exchanged numbers and began sending text messages everyday. A week later, and over one hundred messages sent, Nush phoned. It wasn’t meant to be as serious as she was making it. She made me promise to not answer with a no, and that was when I knew what her question was.
“Noah, will you just promise me you won’t say no?” She sounded as if she was almost crying as she asked me.
“It depends what the question is.” I replied. This went on for a good five minutes; I was trying to stall the situation, even though I knew what was eventually going to come.
“Will you go out with me?” she quickly asked.
I knew what she asked, but I need to validate it, “What did you say?”
“Will you go out with me?” she said, almost as if it were the most shameful thing in the world.
The next thing I did would come to be one of the shittiest things that I may have ever done. I hung up. I don’t know why I did it. I think it may have been because I couldn’t handle letting someone down, face-to-face, or voice-to-voice.
I sent her a text message saying, “Sorry, my battery ran out, I have been meaning to charge this for days. Anyway, I just don’t think it’s a good time to be going out with someone, I mean, I’ve just got out of a serious relationship and all I want is a bit of freedom. Sorry, Noah x”
The truth was that I hadn’t just ended a serious relationship and the one thing I didn’t need was freedom, if anything I was sick of freedom.
Was being so used to freedom holding me back from relationships as I thought they’d take my freedom away? It was an interesting thought.
I, again, needed validation; so I turned to my friend of around four years, Mischa Richards. We first began talking when I found her email address on some pen pal website and we clicked there and then. I ran to her with most of my problems. She is very open about most things and not scared to shy away from her own opinions.
“So how long have you been single for?” I asked her.
“Um…lets see, around nine months maybe,” she replied.
“I’ve been single for nearly two years!” I said, as if it was some sort of contest and I was topping her answer with mine.
“It’s no big deal Noah, some of my friends have never even been in a relationship.”
I suppose that made me feel better, knowing that at least I had some experience to help me in the future.
I wanted to know more about relationships so I asked Milly, she was an old friend of Mischa and so that’s how we met.
“Are you single?” I asked.
“Yeah, since about April, so that’s about, eight months.”
“Oh.”The more and more I enquired, the more and more normal it seemed for people to leave long gaps between relationships, but it still played on my mind that it was two years, which is twenty four months, while these two girls had so far left nine and eight months, retrospectively, between relationships.
That night I could see myself dreaming of being alone forever. Two years turned to three years, three years turned to six years and eventually six years turned to an eternity. I was shit scared of being alone. I longed for that security and warmth relationships provide. So why did I turn Nush down? That still plays on my mind now.
Only a few days ago I received a text message from her, Nush.
“Hey Jason, how are you doing? We haven’t spoke in a while so I thought I would just check up on you. Text me back, Nush x x x”
Jason? She knows I’m not Jason, and we have spoken ‘in a while’, we fucking spoke last week. What kind of game is she playing? Does she know that I’m not Jason and just saying it to piss me off, or, has she genuinely made a mistake? I’ll go with the first, reason being I seldom reply to her text messages, and maybe she is getting pissed off at me ignoring her. Oh well, what is she going to do?
Even though it wasn’t true, and I knew it wasn’t true, it felt so good to have that sense of security that relationships bring flash before my eyes in the chat box. I quickly shut down the chat box and blocked the ‘buddy’. But when the chat box disappeared, so did that sense of security that comes with relationships.
Not being in a relationship didn’t bother me until I realised that maybe it’s been too long since my last relationship. Two years, has it really been that long? ‘Maybe I miscounted’ I thought to myself, but I hadn’t, it really had been two years.
Six, maybe seven, months ago, this famine of relationships in my life nearly ended, but it was my fear of commitment that kept it going. Legally known as Anouska, but socially known as Nush. She was a beautiful, olive-skinned, girl who was two years younger than me, but her perfume reeked maturity. We met through Jason, at a fair ground in Durham, a smaller city just outside of Newcastle. We didn’t initially click. I was more interested in her friend Lisa, who was a year older than me. She had long, dark hair and the most striking eyes. She didn’t seem interested so I was keen to play with Nush.
We flirted all afternoon. We exchanged numbers and began sending text messages everyday. A week later, and over one hundred messages sent, Nush phoned. It wasn’t meant to be as serious as she was making it. She made me promise to not answer with a no, and that was when I knew what her question was.
“Noah, will you just promise me you won’t say no?” She sounded as if she was almost crying as she asked me.
“It depends what the question is.” I replied. This went on for a good five minutes; I was trying to stall the situation, even though I knew what was eventually going to come.
“Will you go out with me?” she quickly asked.
I knew what she asked, but I need to validate it, “What did you say?”
“Will you go out with me?” she said, almost as if it were the most shameful thing in the world.
The next thing I did would come to be one of the shittiest things that I may have ever done. I hung up. I don’t know why I did it. I think it may have been because I couldn’t handle letting someone down, face-to-face, or voice-to-voice.
I sent her a text message saying, “Sorry, my battery ran out, I have been meaning to charge this for days. Anyway, I just don’t think it’s a good time to be going out with someone, I mean, I’ve just got out of a serious relationship and all I want is a bit of freedom. Sorry, Noah x”
The truth was that I hadn’t just ended a serious relationship and the one thing I didn’t need was freedom, if anything I was sick of freedom.
Was being so used to freedom holding me back from relationships as I thought they’d take my freedom away? It was an interesting thought.
I, again, needed validation; so I turned to my friend of around four years, Mischa Richards. We first began talking when I found her email address on some pen pal website and we clicked there and then. I ran to her with most of my problems. She is very open about most things and not scared to shy away from her own opinions.
“So how long have you been single for?” I asked her.
“Um…lets see, around nine months maybe,” she replied.
“I’ve been single for nearly two years!” I said, as if it was some sort of contest and I was topping her answer with mine.
“It’s no big deal Noah, some of my friends have never even been in a relationship.”
I suppose that made me feel better, knowing that at least I had some experience to help me in the future.
I wanted to know more about relationships so I asked Milly, she was an old friend of Mischa and so that’s how we met.
“Are you single?” I asked.
“Yeah, since about April, so that’s about, eight months.”
“Oh.”The more and more I enquired, the more and more normal it seemed for people to leave long gaps between relationships, but it still played on my mind that it was two years, which is twenty four months, while these two girls had so far left nine and eight months, retrospectively, between relationships.
That night I could see myself dreaming of being alone forever. Two years turned to three years, three years turned to six years and eventually six years turned to an eternity. I was shit scared of being alone. I longed for that security and warmth relationships provide. So why did I turn Nush down? That still plays on my mind now.
Only a few days ago I received a text message from her, Nush.
“Hey Jason, how are you doing? We haven’t spoke in a while so I thought I would just check up on you. Text me back, Nush x x x”
Jason? She knows I’m not Jason, and we have spoken ‘in a while’, we fucking spoke last week. What kind of game is she playing? Does she know that I’m not Jason and just saying it to piss me off, or, has she genuinely made a mistake? I’ll go with the first, reason being I seldom reply to her text messages, and maybe she is getting pissed off at me ignoring her. Oh well, what is she going to do?
Wednesday, December 29, 2004
"The People We've Come To Hate"
At 9:40am on a typically English ice-cold morning, two streets away, Madeline was just waking up. Madeline Sandshaw was one of my closest friends and probably the only one who knows the most about my life without me having to tell her verbally. I’ve known her now for the better part of five years. She’s classy and sophisticated, with a brain “to die for”. I had already been awake for close to twenty minutes when we postponed our trip to the city by thirty minutes.
She was early by ten minutes, when she knocked on my door, and I was nowhere near ready, so I rushed around the house and she stood there in silence.
A bus ride and metro ride later and we were there. We wandered down Northumberland Street as Madeline smoked her way through a ‘Marlborough Light’.After our quick break at the ‘popular’ Starbucks, the conversation turned to our friend Skye Manning.
“I’ve kind of given up on Skye.” Madeline told me, as she sipped on her ‘tall mocha to take away’ (she once proclaimed ‘mochas’ as man’s greatest invention.)
“Every time I try to talk to her it’s always Aidan that she talks about, whether I’m talking to her or not, he always becomes the subject we talk about.” I couldn’t do anything else but agree, even though I hated doing so because I once loved Skye non-platonically. We both loved each other non-platonically, strangely at the same time, but neither of us had the balls to do anything about it. It was only a few weeks ago we admitted this to each other, when she and Aidan were going through one of their weekly rough patches.
“I know how it is.” I replied in agreement, “but you don’t have to go to school with her and see her talk about him everyday, every single day, and you don’t have to watch him break her heart as he wanders off into the hallway with Nathaniel.”
“I suppose. I love her I really do but I, but...” Madeline struggled to find the words she was looking for, “…but I don’t know anymore, their relationship seems to be wrong, but saying that the relationship I am in, or I’m not in, at the moment is in tatters.”
I had a thought: was Skye turning into one of those people Madeline and I hated, the ones that obsess over their partners until their partners break up with them? I would always be there for Skye, but I felt like things were eventually going to come to head. We were talking about Christmas over an MSN Messenger conversation and she suddenly interrupted with, “do you think I’m ugly? Aidan says I am and he only went out with me for my good personality.” I don’t even know why I replied.
Madeline and I carried on walking until she broke the silence with, “I don’t mean to bitch about her, but there’s nothing else I can do when I’m seeing one of my oldest friends being sucked into a relationship that I can see ending in disaster.”
I nodded. I was still thinking about Skye possibly turning into one of the ‘obsessive partners’. How could the once innocent, sweet, and kind girl I knew turn into one of the ‘obsessive partners’ that I read about on the Internet? It just didn’t feel real.
That afternoon, after Joe, Madeline’s on/off/on-again/off-again boyfriend drove us home, I spoke with my friend Jason Matthews; the biggest whore I know, for a man anyway. At a party not too long ago, I, and four other people, walked in on him fucking some virgin’s brains out. When I asked him about it later he said, “She was as tight as, as tight as,” there was a pause as he tried to think of something really tight, then, I filled in the blanks for him.
“A virgin?”
“Yes, a virgin.” He replied.
He said he’d also noticed a change in Skye. “She seems to have become more distant from our group of friends and more dependant on Aidan.” Just like before I couldn’t help but agree, even if it did hurt me in the process.“It hurts me to say it,” I said, “but I have to agree. To me, it seems like she needs Aidan’s approval of everything she does. If I had arranged to go into the city with her, and Aidan wasn’t happy about it, she’d make up some excuse as to why she couldn’t go.” She’d done that so many times, I remember them all though.
“Yeah, she did that with me. Now, I just don’t invite her anywhere. Anyway Noah, I’m meeting up with Victoria again, I know, I know, you don’t have to say it.” He replied.
“Yeah, I know I don’t have to say it, but I will anyway, you’re fucking crazy! She cheats on you every time but you just keep on running back.”
“But Noah, the sex is so good. Her parents caught us in their bed the other day, it was hot stuff dude.”“Okay, that’s all I can take, I’m still fragile from my morning mocha. Speak to you soon.”
I put down the phone. I wondered: was it this same obsession that made Jason keep going back to Victoria, and would it be the same obsession that could make Skye go back to Aidan, no matter what?
I made myself an instant coffee; you only get the good stuff from Starbucks around here. After thirty minutes of research on the Internet I learned nothing. Ignorance is bliss I guess.
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