Hello. I’m sorry. I know this has been a ridiculously long hiatus but finally something has happened to rouse me from my creative slump.
I was going out with a bit of an idiot you see. He was 25 and had never been on a plane without adult supervision. When he finally did he hit Las Vegas, fucked some trollop on spring break and cried because he thought he had aids. I comforted him - I can never take that back.
My friends had been too kind to tell me that he was so wet he needed a salad spinner and love was blind. He also had really nice cheek bones so maybe it wasn’t.
It was these events that prompted me to up sticks and move to East London. New digs, new job, new boyfriend. I’ve moved in with a mate from uni and being the charming girls that we are we invited the neighbours to join us for drinks before dinner in the garden.
They pitched up at 8:30 and before long it became clear that food was not on their radar. Before that night we had pigeonholed them as absent Stephanie from the top floor and Barry and Andrew, the couple who live upstairs and make frequent noise complaints.
Before long we realised that in fact it was Stephanie who batted for the other team when she asked to invite her partner. Barry and Andrew were both straight and both psychiatrists. This is good news as I am clinically insane, but bad news because I have been sunbathing topless all Summer.
One thing led to another and we were all pretty pissed. Stephanie’s girlfriend insisted on making us a local delicacy from her native Berlin. We were treated to bizarre onion rostis with smoked Salmon. That’s when I noticed she was gone.
My housemate will remain nameless in this tale. Her shame attacks have only just subsided and I can’t torture her further. I rushed upstairs to Barry and Andrew’s flat to be told by Andrew that they were in need of some privacy. Thinking on my feet, I flew down the stairs and positioned myself in-between them, politely turning to Andrew and saying,
“It’s not that I don’t think you’re a nice guy, it’s just that I don’t think she would be doing this if she were sober.”
My housemate was in fact so far from sober she could barely see. There was nothing I could do to pry her from the psychologists arms. Andrew called me a cock block and tried to push me towards Barry. Barry is 5 ft 3, engaged to a Turkish woman he has just met and believes himself to be responsible for Apartheid because he had lived in Rhodesia as a child.
When I could entertain Barry’s ramblings no more I admitted defeat, returning to my bed alone to wait for my housemate to return. She woke up the next day in Andrew’s bed with no knickers on.
She still doesn’t know what happened. That said, we haven’t had any more noise complaints.