Friday, December 4, 2015

It's Love

It's not often in life that you get the glorious opportunity to use the word 'wielding', especially with the modern age being so sadly bereft as it is of items that tend to be wielded: swords, maces, sticks covered in poop... but here we go, get ready for this one guys, I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I am about to enjoy writing it.

Last night my housemate Andy came into my room wielding the wooden leg of a chair.

Oooooooooooh that feels really GOOD!

His love life has been a shambles the entire time I've known him, of course. When we first met he told me stories about his ex-wife who broke up with him. I'm not sure who broke up with who actually, but from what I can tell they were together for a while, like a few years, but she had started to drift away from him. She was an artist maybe? Or maybe I'm making that up. Either way, the split happened when she told him she was moving to another town – and I want to say that town was Bournemouth, but I could be completely wrong on that too. She moved there, and expected to move without him, but in her mind they were going to stay together. A married couple together, but living in separate cities. So that's where my knowledge of Andy's love life STARTED.

He left her, and moved to London, so the legend goes. I never really heard much about him and girls until the last few months when we've started talking more and connecting... like friends, or something?

There are two girls on the go right now: the first is Camilla, she works for the property agency who let our house, and who Andy works for. She was actually one of the first people I spoke to on the phone last year when I initially moved in to the house and was trying to figure out whether the people I was paying money to actually had anything to do with the place I was living in. 'Camilla' was always the name I referred other stressed-out tenants to when they frantically asked me “do you even know who these people are?” A few weeks ago, let's make it a month, Andy told me he was in love with this girl, Camilla, but she has a boyfriend, who of course I'm told is an idiot, but she won't leave him because they live together.

Andy had been spending a lot of time with her though, and he was starting to think that maybe he could make a move. The Move. You know the one, where you cover her bed in roses to hide the dead body of her boyfriend, and then whisk her off into the sunset THE END. He actually had put quite a lot of thought into what was happening with this girl, which touched me, but only made what happened next even more confusing.

A few weeks later, so two weekends ago, I was standing in his door listening to what he did that weekend with a giddy head because whenever he lights up like that I know something great is coming. He pointed to a piece of paper on the floor and smiled like the frightened serial-killer, “That's her! She's the fookin' one I found her!”
        In situations like that when everything happens so quickly and you receive so much information all at once, it's hard to know what question to ask first, but the only one that came into my mind was the glaring, “he knows that that's a post-it note, not a lady, right?"
        He picked it up and waved it around, and it had phone numbers and a name on it. He told me he'd met a girl at a party the night before who had taken his breath away, and they'd met up again today and when their eyes met it was magic and all that and he was going to go away with her to Mexico, probably within the week. So I was half wondering what had happened to Camilla, but also I wasn't overly surprised, because that's what I've come to expect from Andy, and to be honest, such fickle displays are part of why I'm growing to love him.

Cut to a few nights ago, I'm sitting in his room with a beer and listening to him and his friends talk shit about how they've been up for like, I don't know, four-hundred-million-hundred-thousand days. And Stevey over there has only had half a pancake to eat since FOOKIN APRIL! What a hero.... eugh. But there's a girl in the room, and that girl is Camilla, and I'm flirting with her, partly because I'm excited that there's a girl in our house at all, partly because I'm bored and lonely, and partly because I want to see whether I can. Look you guys, THIS BLOG ISN'T ABOUT ME OKAY! I'VE GOT MY PROBLEMS AND IF ANDY WANTS TO WRITE A BLOG ABOUT ME THEN HE CAN FUCKING GO FOR IT YEAH?!

And if he does you all have to tell me because I would honestly LOVE to read it. Help me.

The next day is when the wielding comes in. After chatting to him briefly in the hall about nothing much I went to bed thinking the night's festivities were over. Michael is hanging around a lot recently and I hate that cunt, so I wanted to get to my room away from his beady eyes and rest myself. Andy seemed busy, so I retired.

Then he walked in casually, with the chair leg in his hand like a baton, and started asking me with a smile what was the deal with me hitting on Camilla the other night. Now I don't know what goes through the minds of people when they start to talk about violence, and arming themselves, and making threats against people – Andy wasn't waving the chair leg at me, he was talking about keeping it as a weapon to defend himself against Louie who owns the property agency and apparently owes him money and is trying to kick him out of our flat. Andy said something about “wouldn't it be ironic if I knocked him out with the broken leg of one of his own chairs!” and I laughed along, but I think the insinuation was clear. “Don't come near my girl, I'll still come after you.”

So that's that. I haven't heard any more about his plans with the Mexico girl, and as far as I know Camilla is still with her boyfriend. Andy and I laughed our grievances off, and he agreed that yeah if the girl in the room has a boyfriend then really no one else has a claim to her, so how can harmless flirting really be off limits? But I made a mental note, and when I saw the chair leg sitting on top of the toilet today I underlined that note in bold and with a paintbrush.

The guy is still crazy, even if I have a soft spot for him. Don't worry Andy, I wasn't trying to fuck the girl you're 'in love' with. I just have low self-esteem.

Peace, Taco.

Click here to read the next part - You Always Need A Plan B

No comments:

Post a Comment