Where Everybody Knows Your Name.
I am outside a university library. It is more years ago than I care to remember. I'm 20.
I am sharing a cigarette in a world-weary-student-with-the-weight-of-the-world-on-his-shoulders-goodness-me-it's-a-hard-life-all-this-studying-cultural-theory-AND-'real'-books-at-the-same-time manner with Best Friend. (He remained Best Friend even after drunkenly informing me that if he absolutely had to fuck a man, I would be his first choice. We pretended he hadn't said anything.)
Best Friend: You know 'Cheers'?
Me: Mmm.
BF: You know the song at the start?
Me: Has a sort of world-weary charm but is otherwise shit.
BF: Yeah. But. That bit. 'Sometimes you want to go where everyone knows your name'?
Me: Ok.
BF: Fuck me can you think of anything worse?
Me: Em.
BF: Honestly. Where EVERYONE knows you.
I think for a bit, and try to ignore the fact that Best Friend always leaves an unneccesaryly large amount of saliva on the cigarette-butt when he hands it back to me.
I love the city we live in. And the best thing is that, it being a city, you can conduct your day unmolested by people you vaguely know asking after 'Dave' when you have no idea who 'Dave' is. Anonymity is a powerful friend. He's quite right. EVERYBODY knowing you is DREADFUL.
Me: Ok.
BF: Like Sartre said-
Me: Oh for FUCK'S SAKE.
BF: 'Hell is other people.'
Me: Why am I even mates with you?
BF: Christ. We are SUCH students.
Me: I know. Lets get out of here and hang about in absurdly rough pubs.
BF: Ok. Look, that thing I said the other night-
Me: Rough pub. Now. And let's not get almost killed this time because you insist upon quoting Kierkegaard to strangers. Christ. I wish I'd learnt a trade.
I am sharing a cigarette in a world-weary-student-with-the-weight-of-the-world-on-his-shoulders-goodness-me-it's-a-hard-life-all-this-studying-cultural-theory-AND-'real'-books-at-the-same-time manner with Best Friend. (He remained Best Friend even after drunkenly informing me that if he absolutely had to fuck a man, I would be his first choice. We pretended he hadn't said anything.)
Best Friend: You know 'Cheers'?
Me: Mmm.
BF: You know the song at the start?
Me: Has a sort of world-weary charm but is otherwise shit.
BF: Yeah. But. That bit. 'Sometimes you want to go where everyone knows your name'?
Me: Ok.
BF: Fuck me can you think of anything worse?
Me: Em.
BF: Honestly. Where EVERYONE knows you.
I think for a bit, and try to ignore the fact that Best Friend always leaves an unneccesaryly large amount of saliva on the cigarette-butt when he hands it back to me.
I love the city we live in. And the best thing is that, it being a city, you can conduct your day unmolested by people you vaguely know asking after 'Dave' when you have no idea who 'Dave' is. Anonymity is a powerful friend. He's quite right. EVERYBODY knowing you is DREADFUL.
Me: Ok.
BF: Like Sartre said-
Me: Oh for FUCK'S SAKE.
BF: 'Hell is other people.'
Me: Why am I even mates with you?
BF: Christ. We are SUCH students.
Me: I know. Lets get out of here and hang about in absurdly rough pubs.
BF: Ok. Look, that thing I said the other night-
Me: Rough pub. Now. And let's not get almost killed this time because you insist upon quoting Kierkegaard to strangers. Christ. I wish I'd learnt a trade.
posted by Tired Dad at
7:52 pm
21 Comments:
So, That's where Dave comes into it!
That saliva-left-on-the-butt thing: we used to call it 'bum-sucking.' Don't know why.
Having moved around the country a bit, I quite like it when I meet at least 3 people to say 'hello' to - feels liked we've settled then. But, I'd hate it if Everyone knew my name. Couldn't get away with Anything at all, then, could I?
I thought it was rather a touching Best Friend Sentiment, and i totally agree on the Everyone Knowing Your Name business. When would fun happen?
Tired, I know this point of view is not going to sit well, but I can't think of a scenario where someone would be forced to fuck another unwilling guy against their will.
So , I think I have come to the conclusion that your best mate just wants to fuck you. Full Stop.
And I think secretly you have too.
Man, gay catnip, cocks on wall and best friend come ons. What's next?
Is he still Best Friend or did he do something to stupid?
This blog's getting a bit gay, innit, Dave?
Will your next post be about "getting it on" with Boy Friend?
Tea: Yes, 'Bum-sucking' it is. I too do not know why.
Everyone else in advance: Yes. The homo-erotic element seems to be going through the roof. It shall sort of stop soon. This post was inspired by a comment on the last so is PURELY COINCIDENDTAL. And has nothing to do with my next post about thinking I might be gay whilst watching a chocolate bar advertisement.
Me: Indeed. Sort of.
Missy: Well spotted. As it happened, he got engaged and wrote a book about ants and I never wanted to fuck him at the time or after. But yeah. This is all getting a bit BENT isn't it?
Clarissa: 'A bit stupid'? See above mention of book on ants. I am no longer in touch.
Farty: Refer to all of the above.
rough pub?
isnt that gay-talk for something really really homo?
goodness
You can share with us, tired....
Kierkegaard makes me spit. Not readin' him just pronouncin' him.
Sounds like puppy love t' me
I can't quit you, tired.
I think the tired gay dad doth protest too much.
I also thought Kierkegaard was a particular unsavoury suburb of Amsterdam.
Ah...now it all makes sense.
Bagsy me gets to be his fag hag.
lol you're getting it all.
what happened to the BF what does he do for a living? I'm intrigued.
"Rough pub" sounds a lot like "rough trade" so I think cynnie has a point ;)
But that convo sounds much like my grad school outings, except that it was all math and science references, (i.e., more boring and less appreciated even) mixed with highly inappropriate talk for public spaces. We didn't do well with the boys as a result...
C: Oh please. Erm. Is it though?
Tea: Look...No. I'm not rising to it. (That's what he said etc.)
Dinners: He wasn't that into dogs.
Windy: Oh very good. I actually had to google that, seeing as though I'd never seen the film. As I'm NOT BENT.
H: Look. Oh. Whatever. Fag hag you are. I'll tel you I 'adore' your 'fabulous' bag and shoes.
H: I don't know. Well I do. He's some sort of academic but I HAVEN'T STAYED IN TOUCH.
K: Alright, I don't need you and Cynnie both. Besides, it's only so you can both 'hang out' with me in a non-threatening manner and get really surprised when you wake up the next morning.
thay nevah wanna hang out wif me so mabe ur more gay than me...
i think that's very sweet of bf. really it is. it means he loves you in more ways than one.... aw
Puppy dude: Maybe I am.
Eliza: I'd much rather the gentlemen did not love me in even one way. But thanks.
You know, when I was 20 and the old 'We're smoking a cigarette together and it would be terribly uncomfortable if we weren't to talk to each other at all throughout this entire process' incident arose, I just used to fight my awaiting smoking partner.
To the death.
Well, I say I fought them to the death, what I actually mean is that I handed them their half of the fag and didn't talk about having bum sex with him in any way.
Strange.
Welcome John. I was going to say something sarcy along the lines of 'oh, you'll want a fucking medal will you?' but considering your profession I shan't bother.
I was just thinking of the expression 'bumming a fag'...
Oh please. And welcome.
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