Social pariah

“That is clearly not you,” she said. “Yeah it is,” he pointed at the passport photo, “That’s my face and there, there it says 25.” “That is clearly your older brother.” “I don’t have an older brother.” “Well you obviously do because you carry around his passport and introduce yourself to girls as him so they don’t realise you’re still at school.” “I’m not still at school!” “You so are.” “Look, I just spent my cab money on a drink for you so…when do you want to leave?” “Fuck off.”

Looking round my sophisticated 21st birthday soiree I swayed only slightly. This was due to a great amount of self-restraint – by all accounts I should have been floored. And then I saw them: strangers. “Who are you?” “Um…what do you mean?” said one, the talkative one, their leader I presume. “I mean, who are you and why are you here?” I was so stern I slurred only slightly. “He said we could come,” the beta male pointed across the room. “Oh he did, did he? That’s interesting.” “Sorry, is there a problem?” “Yes. It’s my birthday.” “Oh right…” “Say happy birthday.” “Um, happy birthday.” “Thank you.” Long silence and intimidating stare. “Sorry, do you want us to leave?” 

Somewhere in a land far away where real men wear speedos and real women eat real men for breakfast five English young ladies were stranded in an empty bar, where they entirely lost a grip on their comforting British sense of cynicism. Tequila, tequila and tequila later those five young ladies were dancing on the tables of the empty bar. Empty, that is, except for one elderly gentleman: Pepe. Pepe was enthusiastic in his dancing but saddened by, so he mimed, their limited language skills. “No Pepe! No! No!” cried the happiest tequila girl, clutching her hands to her chest, “Comprende with our hearts!” 

People are boring in Vanbrugh. Dramasoc: “And she said what were we having for lunch and I said [wild gesticulation].” I sit there. “So are we cool?” “What do you mean ‘are we cool?’” “I mean are we cool now? Sorted, right?” “Why would be sorted? You’re being a dick.” “But I apologised!” “No you didn’t, you asked if we were cool.” “Yeah…are we?” “No. You still haven’t apologised.” “But I asked if we were cool.” “But are you sorry?” “Well yeah…are we cool?” “When you apologise.” “Mate! I just did!” “You didn’t and it’s bloody annoying.” “Oh. Right. Well…are we cool?” 

When you were going out with their friend conversation was stilted at best. Now it is intolerable. Pre-break up you didn’t even have to see them that much, since breaking up, however, you’ve got quite a lot of time on your hands. Time, so it seems, that is mainly spent bumping into this one “Oh my god hi!!!!!!!” She comes bounding across the library with excess vigour and limitless punctuation. “Um. Hi.” Full stop. “I haven’t seen you in ages!!!!!!????? Where have you been!!!???” So much punctuation. So high pitched. “That is true.” “It’s such a shame you don’t hang out with us anymore!!!!!????? Why is that??!??!!!!” Long silence…seriously? Takes Deep breath. “Hard to say. Maybe because you’re mate dumped me.”

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