All right I really like this one and I’m trying to be cool about it. I read her texts, let her see I’ve read them, and then I won’t reply for like 5 hours but the whole time my hand is twitching for the phone. The 5 hour thing is overkill probably. And anyway it’s 2017. Girls know what you’re doing. When girls don’t reply to me, I know what they’re doing.
I have burned through 90% of my youth and now I’m at the age where you start falling for girls with dark histories because they become the only people you meet. They have dark histories full of bad boys like me. A bunch of my clones. She had an abortion this year. The British accent can make even the phrase “I just had an abortion” seem almost whimsical. If she were an American and had said that, in that flat grating LA tone, I’d have shrieked and run for the hills. But the tea-and-crumpets accent will make you forgive all manner of sins. And besides that she’s cute enough that she can get away with a history like hers.
I drink like James Bond but she drinks more. She was hammered when she told me about said abortion so she forgot. Now I know but she doesn’t know I know and it’s like I read her mind and stole the information. She used to have a drug problem, weekends where she’d blast three grams, that sort of thing. She’s damaged but hey I’m no choir boy. I have fucked all of her friends, except the one who I haven’t, the one who is holding back out of principle. I’m kind of The Man right now but it’s only because we live in a small expat community. There’s only like 80 foreigners in the city. I think the only smaller community of foreigners might be that scientific outpost down in Antarctica.
Tuesday night we talked and played each other shit on YouTube for like 5 hours and man she is funny and warm and I could see us walking away from the party together and meeting her parents. She made me want another stupid book deal writing stuff that I hate, just so I can have that cred for when I meet her parents. Projecting myself into the future like that made me realize that right now I am not a real person, I’m not The Man, I’m a man child.
I want something real again, just for a few minutes. Long enough to at least get some couple shots with a hot girl up on Facebook, gotta get something lasting out of the deal, you know? Then will come the inevitable entropy and the whole thing will go bad and when it goes bad I’ll get back out there again and write a post like this again. I want to tell her nice things but I have to be cool. These are savage times. You can’t be nice. The second you’re nice they’ll kill you.
My love life has been, on the whole, too sweet and too fun. There have been too many electric moments and cute beginnings. Most couples have like one gooey story where they ran around a city all night the first time they met and sang karaoke or whatever but I have about 2,000 of those. Moments can be drugs too.