Paul Simon

Glass of water (Part One)

So, after maybe a year and a half’s subscription to the Guardian’s Soul Mates dating site, I went on what was going to be my last date. I had decided when my subscription ended there was going to be no way I was going to renew it. I had said this before only to find myself, a couple of months later, back online again. But this time it was going to be different, this time I was going to kick the habit for good. I knew I could quit anytime so one more date wouldn’t kill me. Besides, as usual I had no plans.

With the invention of the internet had come great change in the world of communication, but mainly the biggest change that had happened since the dawn of the interweb to me was my relationship life. The fact that I now had one. Well sort of.This change had really coincided with my age too. In my early and late teens, early mid and late twenties I mainly met men in clubs, got really pissed and had one night stands. It always amazes me as to how many men I would have too sleep with before one of them actually rang me back.

And if I really start to think about the” relationship” numbers it really doesn’t add up to much. In my whole life I have “been out with” two people and a half at a push, ok maybe one. It is the nature of the gay world I would say, combined with my disfunctionality and bad taste in man and overall availability. Eventually you have to put all this down to experience and false memory.

Initially internet dating seemed to be my last hope at ever finding someone. It is such a seductive process not dissimilar to shopping on ebay, you want to make sure you get the best possible bargain with free post. It’s like shopping for your perfect life. You are judging people and your future happiness on a couple of badly taken photo-shopped photographs, and a short profile that describes them, with phrases like” down to earth” or “Sane and Sorted”.

I had put all my hope on this last date. The secret to my future happiness rested in a photo-shopped image of him sat on the grass on a hot summer’s day in a plaid shirt and faded jeans.From the look of those jeans and that shirt I knew this guy would be the one I would spend the rest of my life with, a life I had already imagined and fully planned out including our holidays, break ups, arguments and meals out to fancy restaurants. The whole thing had already taken place in my head before even meeting this guy. As everything had all happened in my head I could hardly be bothered to meet him. I almost didn’t need too.

And when I did it would only be a disappointment and it was for both of us.The first date was quite pleasant; although he didn’t live up to my preconceptions, I realised there was no way he or anyone could. I was willing to give him a go.I was quite good at dating by this point and had my technique down to a tee, including a regular script of questions I asked. I listened to answers with an interested look on my face that was well practiced; I would tell my well rehearsed funny stories with precision.Other rules included not drinking too much I had made this mistake time and time again, which made me prone to witter, wittering was never good! Never finish a sentence, when you have started it with “don’t you think it’s funny when…..”I found him very mildly attractive. A little bit boring maybe, but boring was a good thing I was telling myself, you know calm, and solid. Opposites attract. I noticed he complained a few times about our service in the bar and restaurant which I hate usually, but I let it slide as he may just have been nervous, or maybe the tomato soup was too tomatoee?The first date seemed interesting.

I knew he wasn’t my type and that I probably wasn’t his, but I did feel as though there was something there, something in-between us( table and chairs, our obvious hatred for each other? The fact we had nothing in common, the fact that we were both dating other people?) There was definitely something that I just couldn’t put my finger on. And also with the end of my subscription to Guardian Soul mates looming I wasn’t ready to give up on my last chance of happiness just yet.Although I didn’t initially fancy him it’s like my mum says, these things can grow. (like a tumour). And this was the week that I had read the preface of my Buddhist book again and had really taken note of some of the themes covered like “ be kind to yourself” or “ be kind to others” . I understood the first part. Even just saying you’re a Buddhist can sometimes make you feel at peace with yourself without the inconvenience of delving into the whole religion or reading a whole book on it.

So with this in mind I organised a second date. Ok, he wasn’t my type but he seemed like a decent guy, an upright kinda guy, boring, but wholesome. And more to the point I needed a boyfriend, mainly for something to do on weekends, and a way of saving money by not going out.Going out to pubs and clubs was very expensive these days, and I didn’t think I was any good at it anymore, I mean I was good at it, if anything too good at it, but the rules had changed whilst I wasn’t looking.

During the period when you’re a young teenager to your early twenties its all about getting as fucked up as possible on a night out, drugs, pubs, toilet cleaner, drinkin, smokin, fuckin, fags drinking!. The more crazy and wild you are the better; you are considered “cool” out on a limb, for being a complete fuck wit and wasting your life, the closer to the line you get, the cooler you are. Throughout this period I reigned supreme as one of the coolest people I knew. I was always the most fucked, and drunk at a party, I knew how to “av it”. As I had gotten older I had not changed, I was still binge drinking, getting completely out of it, and living for the weekends, but I could see the turn of the tide. It used to be behaviour that seemed so glamorous and cool previously, now seemed rather pathetic and desperate. All of my friend’s now sipped gin and tonics at small intimate house party’s and discussed their careers and were at home by 10.30pm. I had cottoned on to this shift rather slowly as I was always in some corner of these civilised gatherings, snorting pills off the TV and trying to pull my mate’s boyfriends.

These dating websites wasn’t t just about finding new men, it was also because I had ostracised myself from many of my friends and had just come to the realisation that the “party “ was over and I should try and get a bloke to stay in with where it was safe.

Death by Pita Bread.......

I arrived home rather early from yet another birthday drinks evening it was Saturday night midnight, I had had 4 and a half pints of lager and half a glass of Champagne and exactly 12 role up cigarettes. I had eaten a cheese sandwich at 1300 hours and a portion of chips at 1600 hours I was drunk and hungry. I had declined the offer to go clubbing to Disco blood bath night club and instead made a quick exit and was now only three bus stops and a short walk away from a pita sandwich. I made haste on leaving the bus almost running but not quite. I had decided on the way home to keep the pita simple I would have cheese and margarine with a hell of lot of salt,. My mouth watered, I was at the door fumbling for the keys, that’s it up the stairs and away in the flat.

I walked in to find my flatmate on the sofa smoking we made noises at each other, and I rushed into the kitchen straight into the freezer were I plucked the frozen pitas from there nest and placed them in the toaster. Pitas are one thing that we have in abundance at our house the reason being you can buy exactly four packs of pitas for a pound at out local shop. Each pack has four or five pitas in it making potentially 20 pitas for a pound, imagine that value! We buy in bulk and freeze them so we always have them to hand, it makes me feel like a wealthy person, I’ve got pitas to burn! Pitas are good for eating but are also extremely useful in other ways they make fantastic floor cleaners, wiping services, keeping fires going, a lethal weapon (frozen) and they make very comfortable and stylish house shoes!

As I popped my pitas in the toaster and plunked the plunka down on the side, a relief finally came over me, a tension that had been mounting since 2300 hours was now finally dispersing with the pita in my grasp. I used the time the pitas took to toast to prepare my filling and cut the cheeses just so, and got the margarine from the fridge and gather the amount I wanted on to a knife. I stood and patiently waited for the toaster to give the pita up. All the while me and my flatmate had been having a lazy conversation from the kitchen to the front room, this was fine, a little distracting from the task In hand, but not too taxing.

The pita popped up high out of the toaster as though it was trying to escape I wouldn’t let that happen I grabbed it and burnt my hand doing so. I pushed the pita to the plate and sliced at it, like doing open heart surgery the steam rose up and onto my glasses temporally blinding me, no matter I quickly removed them and proceeded with the operation. I spread the margarine witch dissolved into the pita, I place my pre chopped cheese on to the surface, this was going to be good. I wrap it up this is the moment I have been waiting for I Jab the pita into my mouth fast and begin chewing furiously. It is so good just what I had hope for like heavens Alixia. I am eating, I am chewing, I am happy. I take another bite my flat mate is still talking to me from the other room I have now started to answer in murmurs as the pita is making it hard for me to speak. I jab again I want this damn pita and I’m gonna have it all of it all of it now. I had jabbed too hard and choked a little. I cough but nothing moves my mouth and throat are filled with pita, I am choking yes choking, it wont budge I cough again nothing happens I can feel myself going red as I began to gasp for much needed air. I realise then that I am going to die.

I was panicking and choking, my whole life flashed before me all the hours id spent in the DVD shop’s all the wrong choices I had made like “babe pig in the city” and “legally blond two” I had so many regrets and no time to fix them now.

My flatmate was now asking me another question from the front room, something about a glass and Peru. I murmur back hoping this will satisfy as an answer. I knew that under no circumstances must my flatmate find out that I am choking the embarrassment of this would be too great. I had to do everything in my power to conceal my immanent death.

“What did you think then” she says
“ hhhmm”
“What was that?”
“MmmMM”

I am managing to take wasp breaths for the time being but I know it is a matter of minutes before I stop breathing all together. My flatmate on not hearing me decides to come into the kitchen to hear my response clearer.

“I was just asking if you knew the capital of Peru”

I turn to the sink now, my back towards her, she mustn’t be able to tell that I am chocking to death in case she trys to help and I have to put up with the embarrassment of being saved.

She seems not to notice and potters around and gets a glass

“your rather odd she says”

“mmm” now a low slow murmur

I nod pretending to do dishes, I don’t turn around. I had taken at that moment what I thought was going to be my last breath.

I knew if I had let my flat mate know that I was choking, she would have tried to save me, with humiliating techniques like the hymen manoeuvre. Can you imagine that! For me life wouldn’t be worth living after such a manoeuvre , such an embrace I would find it hard to hold my head up in public and would be forced to leave London and change my name to Derek move to Doncaster and work in a baked bean factory.

That must not happen I must not be saved I must die quietly with my dignity.

It is becoming too much to conceal as I begin to splutter, she exits the room I am greatly relieved as now I can die alone unnoticed.

I decide to go to the bathroom were I can lock the door, so it would be virtually impossible for my flatmate to save me as she hear’s me choking in my last moments.

The end was Ni, I grabbed my throat I wasn’t breathing at all anymore panic had faded away, I had accepted my fate, my flatmate shouted from the other room

“You ok?”

I cough, this is it I think death take me in your arms, then another cough I feel the pita is dislodging a miracle! Its loose I open my mouth as it falls out of it onto the floor. I quickly shout back.

“Yeah fine”