Thursday 23 October 2008

Wednesday 22 October 2008

Sex, Death and Imaginary Things


I learnt something interesting about myself the other day.

It all began with a stroke to my ego. A friend of a friend needed a script and I was recommended by said-friend. It's always nice when something like this happens, that I've made an impression on someone well enough for them to recommend me to others. But that isn't part of the story.

I sent a script, all about a guy who can click his fingers and control anyone. He uses it to sleep with, and later abandon, lots of gorgeous women, until he falls in love with one of them.

She liked it, but it wasn't within their budget to make. Did I have anything else she could look at?

Well, I did. Sort of. My computer is filled with half finished, or rough first draft, scripts. I couldn't send her a completed script, but I listed the ideas I had that I'd be happy for someone else to make.

There's the story of a group of friends reuniting a year after their friend's death, and telling stories about what life was like when he was alive.

And one about a person writing a story in a costume shop, about a murder.

Another about a couple falling in love, and the girl being a muse.

And another about a boy meeting death at a party, and talking about love and sex with her.

And one about a girl about to die, who takes one last trip to live the life that she'll never have.

I had lots of half-written ideas, and I sent her the list via Facebook. Then I looked back at it.

There were patterns there. Some of these scripts were written years apart. The muse one was written four years ago! But themes were emerging.

There seems to be an obsession with imaginary things: muses, tooth fairies, stories.

Love and sex appear enough to create a pattern.

But almost every single script seems to play with the idea of death and dying. I think back to other scripts I have written, and they all seem to follow the same trend. Sex, death, imaginary things, or a combination of two or three. My scripts and my themes.

Also, the title of my autobiography.

:P

http://hapycow.deviantart.com/art/Playing-with-Death-57162711

Tuesday 14 October 2008

Saturday Night's Alright For Television (NOT For Fighting!)

I stand up (well, I'm sitting down) and say this (well, type this) without a tinge of embarrassment (well, maybe just a tinge): I like cheesy Saturday night television.

Stuff like X-Factor and Strictly Come Dancing. Sure, they're cheesy and filled with enough ego to inflate several hot-air balloons, but they are fun. You pick someone. You cheer them on. The fact that it is just the same programme as last year is forgotten.

Anyhow, here is my "team"; the two people that I'm rooting for on Saturday nights.





:D

Monday 13 October 2008

Points for Smiling (Or 'Why the Queen Shouldn't Have a Goatee')

"Last week's takings were just over last week's budget."

This was good, I thought, without much knowledge of what it really meant.

"This is good.' My new boss said 'but we need to work harder today. The budget is low today, but it looks miserable outside."

It did, I thought. She was right. Do people not read in the rain?

"We've also had another fake twenty-pound note accepted. You look at it, and it's really obvious to see. The paper feels thicker. The ink has smudges. And the face of the queen watermark, it's so bad that it looks like the queen has a goatee. The queen has a goatee guys! We have to be more careful!"

I would try, damn it! I hadn't been at all careful, since I hadn't been taking twenty-pound notes, so it wouldn't be hard to be more careful than that.

I certainly wouldn't allow any bearded ladies on my shift.

"And lastly, I'd just like to introduce everyone to Chris, the new guy. I really should have said that first, shouldn't I?"

And with that, the room of people turned to wave and tell me their names. There was blonde girl, and what's-her-face, and that guy and...

...yeah, I wasn't too good at remembering names. I remember there was an Alice and two Daves, but the rest are just nameless faces to me.

My new working life had begun.

* * *

Dave turned to me. At least, I think his name was Dave. I tried extra hard to not say his name, just in case.

"I think you'll be fine trying this on your own now."

I'd been watching him work the till for the last fifteen minutes. He'd talked fast, and pressed buttons faster.

But the next customer looked easy enough. She was a small weedy woman, shrunk into herself. I could help her with whatever she wanted. I WOULD help her!

"Hi. How may I help you?"

"Do you have any books on domestic abuse? Because my husband commits domestic abuse and I want to understand him."

You can't make this up.

I froze. I ummed and ahhed until Dave strode right in and took the reigns from me. He was confident and smiley and he ordered her the book that she was after.

I just watched and thought about slipping her the phone number of a charity or something. Was she serious? She said it with such straight-forwardness, that I was looking for a hidden camera or something.

My first customer, and I'd failed her.

* * *

"Do you have one of our points cards?" I said with all the smiles a question like that deserves.
"Um...no?" the customer said, with the unnecessary question mark included.

Earlier, this would have been the end. I would have run the total and asked for the money and sent them on their merry way. Not this time. Not on my watch!

"Would you like one?"

They thought for a moment. They looked at me. I smiled a 'You should really get a points card' smile.

"Sure. Yeah. Why not?"

Success!

I had convinced a customer to trust us enough to accept a piece of plastic. That meant they were more likely to shop here again, which earns the company more money which means I was finally doing my job well.

The customer looked at me quizzically whilst I thought this. Then: "So, um, what do I need to do?"

Ah.

"Dave? How do I give a customer a points card?"

So, maybe there are still things I need to learn.

:P

http://krecha.deviantart.com/art/BOOK-SHOP-63585746

Saturday 11 October 2008

Presidential Candidates





















So let us talk about politics.

I'm from the UK, but I'm not interested in the political issues over here. It is all boring people, in old rooms, talking in unexciting ways about stuff I don't care about. It's small and sneaky.

American politics, on the other hand, is a BIG event! It's rallies and picking sides; it's slander and image; it's grander, and more entertaining, than anything we can hope for.

Also, a very important election will be taking place and whilst I can't vote in it, I'd like to throw my hat into the opinion ring.

Vote Obama!

I'm going to make several points in the coming paragraphs, but it all comes down to that simple statement.

Vote Obama!

Seriously, you should say that sentence after each point, just to reinforce the theme.

Vote Obama!

That will be the last time I say that.

The current situation, as I see it, is this. One side is all about hope. They are preaching a better future, retreating out of Iraq, and freedom of choice in regard to sex, love androck'n'roll.

The second side is running on a campaign of staying the same, clamping down on that pesky sex education that's getting taught in schools nowadays, and dirtying the name of the opposite side.

McCain has called Obama 'elitist' on several occasions, in a derogatory fashion. That's right, the rich white guy, with several houses, is calling the other side 'elitist'.

What he really means is that Obama is too smart for his own good. 'Elite', in this case, means that Obama thinks he is better than the common man. Good! I want someone smarter than me running a country. I don't want someone who is an every-man, because it is the every-man that went to see Mamma Mia more than The Dark Knight over here. The every-man are idiots!

I want someone in office that knows big words and isn't afraid to use them. I want someone who isn't afraid to look smart because they might alienate stupid people.

Another criticism against Obama, one which can be seen advertised here, complains that he wants to teach sex education to kindergarten children. Which, in a very skewed way, is true. It is true that Obama signed a bill that decreed that children from kindergarten upwards would be taught, and this bit is very important, "age-appropriate" sex education.

We're not talking the whole condom-on-cucumber, or the videos of naked people with arrows pointing at bits. Not yet anyway. We're talking about introducing young children to the idea of sex and sexuality.

But even if that wasn't the case, what is the problem with small children learning about sex? How would it possibly affect them? Do the Republicans think that suddenly there will be an outbreak of children sleeping together?

The reality of it is that children will dismiss the whole thing as "yucky" and stick with the belief that all girls have cooties. Hell, I STILL believe this!

By introducing children to sex early, you give the (correct) impression that sex is a natural part of life. It is what humans are born to do, and drives many decisions in life. Also, it's fun! Plain and simple.

Without going off on too much of a tangent, the American sex education system fails when teaching abstinence only. It is outdated to teach children that not having sex is the only option. It doesn't stop them doing it, and just leaves them open to unplanned pregnancies and deceases out of ignorant practises.

So, even if the bill really meant Obama wanted to teach kidergarten kids all about sex, this extreme is much better than the alternative.

And maybe that is what this election is about: Obama is better than the alternative.

Because let me have a moment of honesty here: Obama isn't perfect. He could be described as a balloon: really good at lifting people up, but ultimately full of hot air. And he's very young for the job.

But the alternative is someone who would choose to keep America the same. Someone who would choose to keep fighting a war that was lost as soon as we entered it. And someone who is so old, chances are high that he wouldn't even reach the end of his first term.

And if and when McCain croaks it, who do we have to take over? A hockey-mum stunt casting who is pro-hunting, anti-abortion and believes the world was created by design and that the earth is only 6,000 years old.

Let me get the latter out of the way first. Whilst a lot of humour can be garnered from the way she believes was made, it doesn't serve as much of an arguement. So, sure, let her keep her idiotic views that go against centuries of scientific evidence. Just don't let those opinions make it to the White House.

And certainly don't demand that schools teach it as a proper alternative to Evolution. As a myth, maybe, but don't dumb down the next generation because a group of people don't understand the difference between fact and a good story.

Anyway, that was off-topic.

Palin, McCain's running mate, has also spoken out about abortion. She believes that even if the baby is the sprog of someone who raped the girl, she still doesn't have the right to have it aborted.

Rubbish!

Look, have that opinion if you like. Believe that feotus are tiny pieces of God and that they shouldn't be harmed. But DON'T make it illegal for the whole country to disagree with you.

In the current system, you are free to choose. You think abortion is murder, you are free to not do it and free to teach your kids the same. You disagree, than go down to your local abortion clinic and deal with it that way.

Making it illegal to make that second choice is taking away the freedom to choose. Am I the only one that thinks this would be a HUGE step backwards for any country?

And don't get me started on the hypocricy of being pro life and hunting. I take it that God loves unborn children more than he loves moose?

Sarah Palin is a terrible choice for vice-president. She was a knee-jerk reaction to Obama not picking Clinton. McCain's team must have believed that by simply choosing a woman, they would win over the votes that Obama lost by not doing so.

This just sums up his campaign. Don't offer discussion about the important issues, just knock the other guy. Hell, why not call him out as Muslim? His middle name is Hussain, and we know how much the American public hate that name.

It is infantile, and certainly not the way you want the leader of a country to act. Obama may be floating by on speeches about hope and a new America, but at least he's offering more than insults to the other party.

Come November, the choice seems easy. A man of hope and opportunity, or a man of old-fashioned values? The change America needs, or the same problems for another five years?

Vote Obama in 2008! (Yeah, I lied when I said I wouldn't mention it again.)

:D

http://brothervirgil.deviantart.com/art/McCain-Magic-Card-78831592
http://brothervirgil.deviantart.com/art/Obama-Magic-Card-78831704

Thursday 9 October 2008

Word of the Week...

Concur

–verb (used without object), -curred, -cur·ring.
1.to accord in opinion; agree: Do you concur with his statement?
2.to cooperate; work together; combine; be associated: Members of both parties concurred.
3.to coincide; occur at the same time: His graduation concurred with his birthday.
4.Obsolete. to run or come together; converge.


Wednesday 8 October 2008

Dumb-day Tuesday


I'm not a grade-A student. I don't know pi past 3 decimal places, or know the capital of Kazakhstan, or know the chemical equation to turn lead into gold. Any achievement I manage in my time here on earth will not be the result of a shining, academic intellect.

I'm not an idiot either, despite what some "witty" comments might say if they weren't put off by this very message. I know where to put a semi-colon in a sentence; and I know how to add, divide, subtract and multiply; and I know never to trust a drunk man with a sandwich whilst you take a toilet break.

I'm good at the inane facts. For example, I can tell you that a cat will survive being dropped from any floor above the seventh. I can quote a Shakespearean monologue. Also, I can name all of the colours in Joseph's technicolour coat. This is useless knowledge.

Which, you would think, would tide me well in a pub quiz type scenario. You'd be wrong.

Every week, a couple of friends and I take part in the pub quiz at our local. It involves questions on celebrities and music and film and general knowledge. Our average position: second to last.

Sure, we're about forty years younger than the rest of the competitors, which puts us at a disadvantage when asked the number 2 hit in the summer of '69.

But every time we lose, I die a little inside. I should be smarter than this. I should know the five countries with a population greater than China!

Yet, I do nothing about this. I don't revise and I just head back in for the humiliating defeat.

But never again. I've read wikipedia, you see. And I'm watching the news and listening out for new songs by bands I haven't heard of.

Soon, victory shall be mine!

Mwhahaha!

:D

http://heile.deviantart.com/art/thirst-for-knowledge-78556782

Tuesday 7 October 2008

How To Lose Friends And Alienate People

What’s It About?
Simon Pegg, a nasty English writer, gets a job at a high-end celebrity magazine. His dreams include writing biting articles, dating supermodels and getting access to the fancy parties.

The reality is that none of his articles are accepted, due to celebrity pandering; he scares or insults all the women he comes into contact with; and he gets access to the fancy parties. Well, at least he got that bit right.

My Thoughts Going In…
I had a vague knowledge of this a while back, and thought it seemed like a good idea. Also, Simon Pegg tends to be a sign of quality.

However, the trailer made me think twice. It was filled with lame slapstick, including a whole set-piece which may just be the oldest joke in the comedy film book: the bumbling protagonist accidentally killing someone important's pet. Oh dear.

But with Death Race and Taken vetoed by Emma*, this was the only vaguely tolerable choice left.

Looks Like…
The visuals were adequate but didn't push any boundaries. This is a comedy, so it just looks okay.

There was also a vague feeling that I've seen all the locations before. The office looked like a magazine office from any other film. The bar looked like the same bars we've seen time and again. The garden party was a cliché: a way to make everything look grander.

Sounds Like…
The music was good here, with some classics and rather likeable covers. There is often a case that the film seems like a commercial for the soundtrack, but not here. Instead, it duetted nicely with the story.

Feels Like…
The trailer didn't do this film justice in the slightest.

What I watched wasn't a lame 'seen-it-before', slapstick comedy about a Brit overseas. It was a touching, charming film about sticking to your values.

So, in turn, the film didn't do the book any justice.

The original book of How to Lose Friends and Alienate People was a memoir about life at a gossip magazine. That much the film got. But the book's author, the star, is a nasty piece of work. He's insulting, vain and prone to put his foot in his mouth.

Simon Pegg, on the other hand, is rude, but in a charming, Mr Bean way. He is vain, but he's really sticking up for real values. Any time his foot enters his mouth vicinity, it is only out of good intentions.

I haven't read the book, so have no idea how it ends. However, I'm willing to bet my bank balance that it didn't end in the neat Hollywood way that the film does.

However, it is a fool's game to compare book to film. They have to make differences. What the film lost was its bite. What it gained was heart.

Simon Pegg plays the main role perfectly. He remains blunt, but likeable. He reveals his vulnerability slowly too, so we feel for him when he falls. Oh, and he falls big.

Jeff Bridges brings presence, Kirsten Dunst brings a down-to-earth charm, and Megan Fox brings her breasts. The cast are all on top of their game, seeming to have fun with the film.

For a film revolving around celebrities, there were no cameos, which was nice. It could have quite easily nodded and winked itself to comedy death with too much self-referencial humour.

The script contains a good number of one-liners worth adding to your favourite quotes on Facebook, and when the film veers into predictable territory, the writer keeps it seeming fresh and fun.

But, it isn't perfect. There are no good belly-laughs, instead it is happy to keep a healthy chuckle. You can see the story's path from the first step. And there wasn't enough Jeff Bridges.

It just falls short of having punch, a real feeling that you can take with you and treasure and play with and discuss. It'll be forgotten tomorrow. But, whilst it lasts, it'll keep you smiling.

Verdict…
A fun effort, with a bouncy script and an on-form cast. Not going to set the world alight, but worth a trip to the cinema for.







*She actually said "I don't mind, you decide". Of course, any sensible person will see through this clever ruse and realise that it really means "You choose, but if I don't enjoy it then expect me to be grumpy with you and possibly withdraw 'nudity privilages' for a month".

Monday 6 October 2008

A Long and Complicated Story of Parties, Kisses and Misunderstandings: Part Three


Ok, so where was I?

There was almost kisses, then there were drunken kisses, and then there was the first sober kiss.

It happened after the Enchanted evening, the next morning. Faye had left for work in the early hours (9.30am) and Emma and I were left on the sofa. So, we did what all young people of opposite sex do when they were kissing the night before and now find themselves sat on a sofa: We kissed more.

That day, I had arranged to cook steak for Emma, a non-steak lover. It meant that we had more time to kiss, and that they became steak-flavoured at some point. We also shared our first chocolate kiss, after a fairly successful attempt at soufflé.

Anyway, despite the fun that was had that day, it left me a little confused. Did the sober kisses mean she was liking me more, or was it just a bit of fun? The answer was the second, but I didn't find this out till later.

First, there was Emma's birthday.

During the day, we went to see Horton Hears a Who and to all casual observers (which include me) nothing had ever gone on between us the day before. I looked for it too, as a potential ease of the confusion mentioned before.

But nope. Nothing. Nada. Zip. Zero. We watched a (admittedly good) film and went on our merry way to the pub.

It was there, after a drink, that anything began again. It started with a foot under the table, just interlocking with mine. Ever the cautious type, I made sure that I pulled away enough to see that it wasn't an accident. If she move her foot back to mine, I figured, she wanted it there.

She moved her foot back.

We ate and drank and we were merry, all the while playing a very cosy game of footsy under the table.

Towards the end, I took a trip to the little boy's room and upon my return I found that a good percentage of my drink had disappeared. A guilty grin put the blame on Emma. Also, Faye was driving so unlikely to drink cider.

That part would have been edited out but for the fact that it illuminates the conversation that then took place in the car on the journey home.

"I can't believe you drank my cider. That was my cider and I was treasuring it. I had JUST enough to get me till kicking out time and you drank it. You even had your own!"

This was me, sat in the back of the car and moaning. Because I'm a boy, the subtext here was "I can't believe you drank my cider?!"

"I think I've got some drink in my house. You can have some of that."

This was Emma, seemingly offering me some alcoholic drink at her house. But because she is a girl, this meant "You can always come back to mine for some drink...and more kisses!"

But I couldn't, could I. For one, the cautious me wasn't sure whether he was picking up the subtext correctly. It'd just be awkward if the whole thing was said as a joke, and I thought otherwise.

And even if it was a genuine subtextual offer, there was still the matter of Faye. It wasn't like we were deliberately hiding it from her, but telling her that we'd shared a few nights of drunken kisses when we were both quite tipsy certainly wasn't the way I wanted her to find out.

(She actually ended up finding out accidentally, via a lighting mistake on a beach in Poole. This also wasn't the ideal situation either, but at least our intentions were noble.)

So anyway, I laughed it off and that was the end of that. I was gutted of course. I was heading back up to Leeds the next day, and my last chance to spend time with Emma was spent giving her a hug and wishing to do much more than that.

When I got home, she was online.

"I'm sorry I didn't accept your offer for drinks", I typed.

I went on to explain why I couldn't, and she understood. The conversation eventually led to this point. (All sentences have been cleared up from the drunken MSN speak that they originally existed in)

Me: I'm gutted though.
Emma: What do you mean?
Me: Well, every time I go back up to Leeds, you end up confusing me.
Me: At New Years, you almost kissed me after Andy's party.
Me: You kissed me before I went back to Leeds for a week.
Me: But this time, nothing is going to happen.

The next bit, I SWEAR, is what she said.

Emma: You could always walk round mine and I'll confuse you again.

How could I refuse?! After checking that she wasn't kidding, and that she wouldn't fall asleep, I put my shoes back on and I headed round to hers.

It's a 30 minute walk to Emma's house. I did it in just over 15.

In her defence, she actually had drinks made up as she had promised before. So instead of my romantic notions of grabbing her as soon as she opened the door, we sat on her sofa and drank rather strong vodka and coke.

Then we kissed. Then we moved it up to her bedroom. Then, for the first time, I saw Emma naked (with the lights turned off). And now I was definitely confused.

I stayed at hers the whole night, which required staying very quite when her mum was getting ready for work, and left around midday. I travelled back to Leeds and we didn't speak about the events until a few days later.

I asked her where we stood. Did the sober kissing mean that she liked me more? It was here that I found out that no, it didn't, and that she just wanted to be friends. And I got annoyed.

Friends don't kiss each other! Friends don't invite each other for late night "drinks"!

I explained a day later, after examining why I got so annoyed at the whole thing, that she didn't mean "just friends". She still wanted to kiss me (heaven knows why) and didn't regret what had happened in the past. This wasn't "just friends". This was "friends with benefits".

I could do that.

We spoke regularly for the next few months we both had left of uni. The first day we saw each other again was a gorgeous sunny day. We cycled and we ate a picnic. We laid in the grass and discussed clouds.

And all I wanted to do was kiss her. I did, eventually. We were back in the same place we had been back at Easter.

We met more and kissed more. It was all very secretive because we weren't sure what it was so we had no idea how to describe it to anyone.

Then we went on holiday in Poole. We were caught kissing, which was both a rubbish way for friends to find out, but also a huge relief. We could cuddle in public. We weren't hiding anything.

Poole was the first time I ever felt like a couple with Emma.

I got the feeling more and more over the coming weeks. We made a make-shift bed on her living room floor (because her single bed is rubbish). We ate lunch and laid in the park. We were doing all the couple stuff, but without the recognition.

But how could I ask Emma whether things had changed? She'd say no, that this was all fun, and I wouldn't know what to say. Yeah, I'm a wimp. I even started asking the question once, but changed my question halfway in.

But, you know what? Despite the confusion and misadventure of the above story, the whole thing ends simply (some may say anti-climatically).

The final scene takes place in my bedroom. We were cuddling, and talking about life. This whole story came up, and we spoke about the weirdness of it all. Just eight months ago, we'd hardly spoken to each other. Now, we were lying in the same bed, sans clothes.

And I asked the question: "Why aren't we boyfriend and girlfriend?"

Beat.

"That's the boy's job."
"What? To ask if you want to be boyfriend and girlfriend?"
"Yeah."
"Okay. Do you want to be boyfriend and girlfriend?"
"Yeah."

And that was how it ended, a casual conversation in a bed, eight months after we first almost kissed.

:D

P.S. - A rather freaky epilogue to this whole affair is this story. For my birthday, Emma bought me a copy of Cosmopolitan as a joke, since I had stated that I enjoyed reading it. In the horoscope section, it said this under Aries:

A friend who confuses you will set a chain of events in motion that will lead to a relationship by August.

This was in the April edition of the magazine, the same month Emma first kissed me. I have stated on several occasions how much she confused me. And the whole thing became a real relationship in August.

Creepy, no?

Friday 3 October 2008

A Long and Complicated Story of Parties, Kisses and Misunderstandings: Part Two

I first kissed Emma on my sofa, whilst we were both suitably intoxicated. I remember the kiss perfectly, but have no memory of the events leading up to the kiss. I don't think we said anything and that it just sort of happened.

But before I go on to regale you with the events that led from that kiss, we must first go back, to events before it. Back, in fact, to my 21st Birthday Party.

Joe (a name that will only be mentioned this once, since he has no impact on this story), Faye, Emma and I shared a party around the time we were all turning 21. It was mask, wig, and hat themed and good times were had by all. I was over Emma, for the most part, and I barely remember seeing her at the party.

Now, remember when I mentioned Megan and our habit of hooking up whilst drunk? Well, Megan and I hooked up whilst drunk at that party, very much in secret.

About a week later, I've arranged to cook a meal for a bunch of us. Faye and Nixon are there, as is Emma. I cook gammon and we drink wine. We also drink cider and sambuka, so end the meal fairly drunk. And then we decided to go to the pub.

This was the night that I was flirty with Emma again (apparently) which caused her ex, Nixon, to ask if I fancied her, to which I replied "No" because I didn't. That train had passed.

After our pub antics, I was planning on walking Emma home. We both live in a neighbouring town from everybody else. Most of the time someone drives back, but on special occasions it has been known for the two of us to risk the hour walk. Despite my house being closer, I walk Emma to her door because I am a nice boy.

Anyway, we walk and we talk. I don't know what we talk about, for it is lost in drunken mists. But we arrive at my house and stop for a toilet break because, as I've just mentioned, it's closer.

And then we're on my sofa. We don't talk, we just end up kissing. And now we're back at the beginning.

We kiss for about half an hour before we think that it's a good idea to get Emma back to her real home. We kiss more at hers. She even invites me to her bedroom, which tells you all the type of girl Emma really is (The type who got bored of kissing for hours on the sofa).

The whole night ends at seven in the morning, when fear of a mother awakening means that I leave. I stumble home, a stupid smile on my face.

Anyway, the next day I'm back at University. I'd promised Faye and Emma that I'd be back down to celebrate their birthdays though, so my trip is only a week long. During that week, we discuss the kissing online. It is concluded that the whole thing was fun and drunken and not an indicator of secret feelings for each other. Of course, I was sort of lying about the last bit, but she didn't have to know that.

The week ends, and the first port of call when travelling back home is to visit Megan in Portsmouth. I forget the reason, but the plan is to drink and dance the night away.

I'd be lying if I said that I didn't expect to kiss Emma again that night. That became fairly inevitable when she hooked arms with me and dragged me to a cash point. What I CAN say is that at the beginning of the night I had no idea anything else would happen. To me, we'd had a drunken fling and it was over.

But kiss we did, in the middle of the dance floor. Once again, I don't know how it all began. I know that alcohol was involved somewhere down the line, and that we had our hands in each other's back pockets. That is all.

The kissing resumed back at Megan's when we both had a bed made up on the floor, whilst Megan slept and Megan's friend didn't. I feel we still need to apologise to her.

Again, the kissing went on till the early, early hours, but this time we had to face each other the next day. We didn't say much, especially regarding the previous night, but it didn't seem awkward. At least, I didn't THINK it did.

You see, once back at home, I checked facebook to find that Emma had changed her status to 'Emma doesn't know what to think'. "About what?", I thought. Was last night weird for her? Did I do something wrong? Overstep my boundries? A brief MSN conversation did nothing to ease my worries when I was told that we would "talk about it later".

But before later, there was the pub. You see, Nixon was back off to Uni that day, so we were all gathering for his leaving do. I was tired so I don't remember much of the night, except for one thing. Emma completely blanked me.

She was nice to everyone else, to Nixon and to Faye, but she didn't even give me a second glance. I spent the night playing all the reason she could be mad in my head. None of them made sense. How could she be mad now, and not that morning?

When I was home once again, I logged on to get the explanation I was promised. It wasn't to do with the night before at all (So I completely failed when she asked what I thought it was about) but was in regards to post-birthday party kisses with Megan.

For you see, Megan had decided that it wasn't fair that Emma didn't know that stuff had happened between us, so she had told her all. Now I was painted as a serial-kisser, someone who just gets with drunk girls and moves on to their friends.

Except I wasn't. And I explained this is great, drunken detail. I remember bringing up the fact that I didn't kiss Emma earlier in the year out of chivalry. I hadn't changed. I was still that nice boy.

We ended the night on vaguely good terms, but to me it was over. Sure, we'd be friends again, but we were never going to share another kiss. That required trust and I figured that the trust was gone.

It wasn't.

A few days later, Faye, Emma and I were returning from a failed night of clubbing. The place we had been planning on attending was closed, so we returned home for a night of Enchanted instead.

About twenty minutes in, Faye falls asleep. The three of us are under quilts and the two girls were dressed in pajamas. I usually sleep in boxers, so to dress like that would have been inappropriate.

And under this quilt, next to a sleeping Faye (Sorry Faye, but it gets worse) we held hands. Then we played with our hands, tickling palms and the like. This wasn't the biggest action ever, but it meant that there was still trust there.

When the film had finished, we all retired to a spare room to sleep. Faye slept. Me and Emma, not so much. Wrapped in quilts and staying quiet, we kissed until the sun rose.

Now, I want to take this moment to point out a very important fact. Every time kissing had taken place so far in the story, alcohol had been involved. The first night we kissed, cider and wine and shots were coursing through our system. More cider was involved in Portsmouth. Even on our failed clubbing exhibition, we were still tipsy.

I knew where I stood in this regard. Emma wasn't kissing me because she truly liked me that way. She was kissing me out of drunkenness and fun.

But that morning, after Faye left for work, Emma kissed me for the first time sober. And suddenly things were a lot more confusing.

To be continued...

:D

Thursday 2 October 2008

Word of the Week...

Chump

–noun
1.Informal. a stupid person; dolt: Don't be a chump—she's kidding you along.
2.a short, thick piece of wood.
3.the thick, blunt end of anything.
4.Slang. the head.
5.off one's chump, British Slang. crazy.

Wednesday 1 October 2008

A Long and Complicated Story of Parties, Kisses and Misunderstandings: Part One

This is the story of how I changed my facebook status to "In a relationship with Emma Sansom".

To begin this tale of confusion and secret kisses, I must go right back to the beginning. Not 'of time', but just eleven years ago to the winter of 1997. I was ten. So was Emma. We met, we became boyfriend and girlfriend, we broke up.

I'd love to tell you more, but there is a distinct lack of tales in the few months we were together. Being a couple in those days meant holding hands and dancing slow at the end of discos.

Anyway. We ended up going to the same secondary school, but managed to avoid each other through most of the five years we were there. We even sat together in Maths, and only shared words when I had forgotten my textbook and she was offering hers.

It wasn't like we didn't like each other (Well, it wasn't like I didn't like her), but we hung out with different groups which never intersected.

It wasn't until Sixth Form that we began to nurture a friendship again. There wasn't a big event to signify it. We just started talking again.

We all went away to uni and Emma was one of the few people I kept in touch with when I was home for the summer. That group got smaller over the years, but Emma was never cut. The definition of a friend, if ever I heard one.

But throughout this whole period of re-friendship, there was never really a spark. I knew her, sure, but didn't really know her. I didn't know her favourite colour, or what she liked to listen to. I hadn't even been inside her house. And we certainly had never flirted before.

Until...

New Year 2008 (Where the picture above was taken). We were both at Faye's party, something her family holds every year. In our age-range, it was just Faye, Emma and I for most of the night. Fun was had and alcohol was drunk.

And something was different between me and Emma. We sat and discussed our favourite colours, music, films, etc. We flirted. I don't flirt with people. I'm rubbish at it. But I found myself doing it at this party.

To this day, I don't know the reason. Most of me blames alcohol and part of me thinks it has something to do with me being the only age-appropriate male there. I don't think I'll ever know.

The whole flirting thing culminated in us sat in the same chair. We had been fighting over a party horn, and she had pulled me down onto her. She had taken the horn from my mouth and blown it. I had taken it from her. Then we had a moment.

Those times when you know that you're going to kiss someone. It was one of them. It had just seemed right.

I didn't kiss her.

It may sound like a film cliché, but as we moved to kiss, the door went. We got up and answered it. That was that. The moment was forgotten.

On another day, we discussed the events. Well, after I had reminded her of the events we discussed them. It was the alcohol and it was fun. That was it. End of story.

Except it wasn't the end of the story, it was only the beginning.

The next part comes at another party (You'll find that most of the parts of this story contain alcohol). It was a friend's twenty-first, and many, many people were there. The party itself was fun, despite the lack of drinking.

You see, I was poor at the time, so my only drinks that night were the ones I could beg and borrow from my wonderful, wonderful friends. So I was tipsy, but nowhere near as drunk as I should have been.

I didn't really interact with Emma all that much during the party. We spoke a little. She may have bought me a drink. But for the most part, we hung out with different people.

Which leaves me time to introduce someone else to this story now. Her name is Megan. We used to have a habit of drunkenly kissing at parties. She becomes very important later, but for this party she spent most of the time telling me how she wasn't going to try and kiss me (she did).

Oh, she has a proper boyfriend now, so things work out in the end.

So, the party ends and we make our exit. To my surprise, I'm set upon by two girls. Megan, going quickly back on her drunken promises, takes one hand. Emma, who I haven't seen for a while, takes the other hand.

I'm not the type of boy who usually has one girl, let alone two. I don't really know how to cope. I call "Shotgun!".

Yes, that's right. Instead of sitting between two girls who are drunkenly wanting to cosy up to me, I sit in the front of the car. Yes, I'm an idiot.

Anyhow, we are dropping both Megan and Emma off first. Megan is staying at Emma's, but she wants cheesy chips so we drop them off at a kebab stand near Emma's house. She later goes on to throw those chips up, but that isn't important to the story except to point out how drunk a girl has to be to want to hold my hand.

We get out the car to bid them goodbye. I hug Megan and when she tries to kiss me I remind her of her promise a few hours earlier.

Then, when I'm saying goodbye to Emma, she gives me a kiss on the lips. Just a friendly kiss, mind, but a kiss none-the-less.

Then it wasn't a friendly kiss anymore. It was proper kiss, with tongues and everything. It didn't last long.

I didn't kiss her back.

Now, I've told this story to a few people and this part seems to have the most polar reactions. Some see where I was coming from. This was a drunk girl, and I was bordering on sober. It would've been taking advantage. I didn't want to kiss her like that.

Most people hearing the stories think I'm an idiot. Sure, she was drunk, but she was pretty! What if I never got to kiss her again? I'd have wasted my one chance out of misguided chivilary.

And this is what I was thinking when I arrived home that night. I was an idiot. I should have kissed her. Damn!

But life goes on. The next day I'm heading back to uni, and as I'm packing I recieve a text. I forget the exact words but it said something like "Sorry for making a fool of myself last night."

We kept texting each other as I finished packing, then as I boarded my train. It was a long journey, and Emma became my entertainment.

I discovered that my act of kindness the night before had be misconstrued. She was embaressed because she thought I didn't want to kiss her. This wasn't the case, I told her. I was just trying to be a nice boy and not take advantage.

She did tell me that it isn't taking advantage if a drunk girl wants to kiss you, so I'm bearing that in mind in future.

Anyway, we kept texting when I arrived in Leeds, and through the evening. At midnight, I ran out of free texts, but our conversation continued online. In total, we spoke for 14 hours that day.

For the next month, this became the norm. We spoke everyday, about anything and everything. We passed through the important stuff, like life, love, death and secrets, but also discussed words that we liked, and gossip we had heard. There are so many things that we talked about that I have forgotten now.

And I looked forward to our daily conversations. And, little by little, I developed a crush.

Now, during the course of our talks, I had arranged to come and visit her in Southampton. It was a friendly thing, but in my mind it was more than that. The trip would be where I could find out if she liked me too. In hindsight, perhaps building it up so much was a bad idea.

The full details can be found on a separate post, but let me just say that it didn't go all that well.

In fact, she got drunk and kissed another boy. On a scale of things that you want the girl you have a crush on to do, this is pretty near the bottom.

Speaking about it with her at a later date, I found out that she knew I fancied her and was going to try and gently dissuade me. Then she got drunk and went WAY too far.

But, such is life. You move on, because not moving on is foolish. I did, eventually.

In fact, the day I definitely knew that I was over her was when we were amongst friends at the pub. My friend, and her ex, had noticed that we were being flirty and had asked if I fancied her. It didn't matter if I did, he said.

And I thought about it. And, truthfully, I told him I didn't. My crush was over and I could move on and find other girls. We were still friends, and I guess that was all we were going to be.

That night, I kissed Emma for the first time.

To be continued...


:D
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