“You must never give a cockatoo an avocado. It kills them”. This is Lisa’s pearl of wisdom for the day.
Esther’s grandmother rang this morning to say she has had her shopping delivered. It seems to consist mainly of carrots and bags of salt. Apparently she asked all her neighbours for the same food just in case anyone couldn’t get it. They all got it for her.
“Devo was desperate for chocolate last night because I had a Gü™ mousse, and I looked up and he was frothing at the mouth in lust. I felt so bad I gave him a fingerful.” Lisa confesses. No it’s not a euphemism.
“Why is it that dogs like chocolate so much when it could kill them?” I say. “It’s just like our generation with drugs and booze. We love it but it’s lethal.” I add.
We are discussing the film we saw last night: She’s Outta My League. They had a rating system to measure looks out of 10. The hottie is “a hard 10” and the nottie is “a hard 5”. You can only jump up 2 points apparently. The nottie bags the hottie because he is a nice guy. Bullshit.
“I wanna be judged by them,” moans Lisa, after having picked her face red raw.
“No you wouldn’t” says Esther, “We’d be a hard 1.5”
“No” whines Lisa, “I’d be a sexy older woman”
“That’s exactly what I don’t want to be: older and sexy and a woman” Esther says. “Plop” she adds.
End of conversation. Whenever she doesn’t know what to say, Esther says “Plop!” as many times as is necessary until the other person goes away. Once in this case.
"Don't go to the toilet, I need you..."
“I love you darling,” I say
“Get away from me you freak” Esther says. She reacts violently when she thinks I’m being clingy.It seems this is most of the time.
I was walking past some shops the other day and I thought ‘wouldn’t it be weird if you got sucked into the head of each person you walk past and see the world through their eyes. Like this lonely asian man delivering takeaway, or the cheery chavvy woman who belatedly answers the door’. But then I realised, oh yeah that’s what empathy is.
"Look at them all laughing at us!"
I only went out with my first girlfriend because she looked like Isabel from Belle and Sebastian. Well you would, wouldn’t you. And because we were the only people left when the Leadmill lights came on at 2am. But like all fantasies (and vampires..hmm), she disappeared in daylight.
She slept in her knickers and it never occured to me to try to get into them. Well it did, but I was too much of a nice guy (girlspeak for ‘loser’. Too much of a clueless virgin is nearer the truth) to get hot and horny with her. I thought, if she wants it, she will let me know. High five, Germaine Greer.
It was only relatively recently that I realised rape fantasy (Note to Self: tread carefully), or at least enjoying the muscly advances of alpha males, is a crucial part of a typical woman’s sexual fantasy. That I didn’t try to have sex with her just told her I was a brother not a lover.
Once, we were walking down the road holding hands and she said “Look, over there! Those firemen are laughing at us”. I searched the landscape for emergency service hilarity and came up blank. She was a mess. I spot people laughing at me all the time, but they are actually there. I think.
Anyway, we met up after she had been away for the weekend. I had been thinking of her longingly every other second. It turns out that she hadn’t. As my hand brushed her back, it stiffened, like an arachnophobe feeling the tickly feather feet of a family of spiders.
“I went to my parents and I didn’t thinkabout you once the whole time I was there”.
Marvellous. Back to the barren world of the undesirable singleton. Oh joy. Another 6 months till someone takes pity on me.
Was it all a dream- would I wake up, dribbling onto Isabel’s lovely photo-face as I clutched ‘The Boy with the Arab Strap’ to my skinny, lovelorn chest? Was it fuck.