I’m writing this on the tube on a Sunday afternoon. I’m on the Circle Line and I’m going home. This weekend I am very annoyed with everything and on some level I understand that maybe I’m overreacting, but I can’t help how I’m feeling. Or maybe I am not overreacting and everything is wrong. Yes, that’s definitely it.
So these are the events that happen this weekend.
On Saturday afternoon Scott and I go to the gym, one of the gyms in zone 2, where we don’t go very often. We do shoulders and abs and there’s a guy there who’s in his late early 40s, but he thinks he’s younger, he’s hanging in there through a fake tan and some Botox injections. He has big arms in a stretched, drained steroid way and he has no legs (i.e. no leg muscles) and he has an annoying upturned nose and very short dark hair. I assume that he’s a gay. Due to his only merit of having overdeveloped arm muscles, Scott is attracted to this person. Due to the fact that he’ an old guy who’s still relying on sunbeds, going to the gym and cosmetic surgery to get some self worth, I am repulsed by him. I try to reason with Scott that he’ is not worth looking at twice, but Scott can’t see past anyone’s muscles.
This I reason 1 why I’m annoyed.
On Saturday evening Scott is working and I’ve stayed at home and after having my dinner and going to Tesco to do my weekly shopping I decide that maybe I should be a nice boyfriend and go to his house to surprise him when he gets back from work. Scott lives at the margin of zone 2, on the District Line. I don’t now how they even let the District Line anywhere near London, because it’s a complete joke, completely unreliable and moves at its own pace.
So I know that something will go wrong, it will take about 2 hours to get there etc, but I don’t mind – I have my iPod and my new book with me. I can deal.
Of course it goes even worse than I had imagined, because halfway there the tube stops and they tell us that we have to get a replacement bus instead. I try to stay clear of buses band every time one finds its way into my life inevitably something will happen to piss me off. This time, about 45 minutes after I have set off from home and still 15 minutes away from Scott’s, it occurs to me that I’ve forgotten the keys to his house.
It’s 2315, Scott finishes work at 0030 in central London, it would take him half an hour to come back and I’m stuck somewhere in zone 2/3 with nowhere to go.
This is reason 2 why I’m annoyed.
So just before midnight on this Saturday night, I find myself alone in a suburban pub with a pint of bitter and book, taking pictures of this rare sight on my phone. And this is one of those pictures:
I have no intention to drink this beer of course – I haven’t drunk alcohol in the last 3 years or so and right now I’m feeling quite annoyed with being stuck there but not as self destructive as to drink a pint of beer.
And this is what else happens in this pub:
Some jukebox is playing Self Esteem by The Offspring followed by Come Out And Play by the Offspring, somebody drops a pint, a group of people sing Happy Birthday for a friend twice, No One Knows by Queens Of Stone Age comes on, I am feeling restless, there are two people I fancy, I miss the time when I was living in zone 3, before the gay and the drugs and the sickness and the magazines covers, I look at the people around me and I envy them, Smells Like Teen Spirit plays on the jukebox, I pray that I could turn back time, I quickly lose my faith again, I steal somebody’s baseball cap that I find on a chair, I have no one to flirt with, I wish I could drink my beer and not worry about my abs, I consider going in the toilet and crying, I go in the toilet and put a toilet roll in my laptop bag, I ring Andrews but he doesn’t pick up, I consider getting a job collecting glasses in this pub, I wonder if that would make me happier, I’m wearing a white shirt from DKNY and a rugby top from the Gap and Energie jeans and Timberland boots with the laces undone, Scott rings me to tell me that he’s back home now.
Then I go find him and sleep.
On Sunday afternoon, Scott and I are on his motorbike driving around town and we go past the Abercrombie shop in Mayfair and there’s a long queue outside. This is the first time I’ve actually seen the Abercrombie store, because I have deliberately avoided it since That Story happened.
Infuriatingly, Scott actually stops outside the entrance, looks in, asks me “what can you see”, I hit him, we both see two girls in bikini tops and a guy with his shirt off standing there, Scott says “wow he has great abs”, I get really pissed off, tell him to drive off.
I can’t think of anything more embarrassing and cringe-worthy than stopping outside the Abercrombie store to peek inside and catch glimpse of the shirtless door model. This store is created to appeal to either 15-year old boys that will never grow into men, or 55-year old lecherous old men who have spent a closeted life lusting over the former.
For somebody like Scott to stop there and stare at some daft model like a desperate queen, it just pisses me off so much. For fuck’s sake, we ARE those people – we don’t need to stand there and ogle them. It’s instances like this when I’m actually so pleased to have an attitude and a superiority complex. (Well…the times when I don’t have self esteem issues and an inferiority complex anyway).
This is reason 3 why I’m annoyed.
I think next time I’m looking for a boyfriend I’ll make sure I pick somebody with a bit more dignity and a bit less of a muscle fetish.