So on Friday Matty and Nicole and I go to the Royal Albert Hall to watch some Christmas carols thing, which features the King’s College choir, a full blown orchestra, two sopranos and (apparently) audience participation in some of the carols. For this event I am wearing a white polo shirt from Ralph Lauren, a pink Lyle & Scott jumper, H&M jeans, a belt from Louis Vuitton, no socks, Gucci loafers. And here’s a picture of the audience, as you can see it’s pretty fucking busy.
At the Christmas carols evening the following things happen: The orchestra plays, two sopranos walk in – one thin, one fat, I expect the fat one to be better; she is louder anyway – 4 choirs sing, one of old men, one of old women, one of Cambridge University students, one of 10-year-old kids, I find somebody I fancy in the last one, two people pass out and the medics come in, I enjoy the performance but I’m not always there, I drift away, check in and out, when the audience participation part comes I stay quiet, we go home.
At home I’m thinking of making a video lip synching to All I Want Fro Christmas Is You to post on here, I can’t be bothered, I turn the TV on and watch CSI. I find CSI as distressing as ever, there’s a scene where two of the investigators find themselves in some remote location outside what seems like a deserted building that might have dead bodies or even the killer in it, one of them says “we have two choices, go back or go forward”, I think go back, always go back; they go forward, I go to bed.
On Saturday, I decide to check out the gym guy that Scott says is absolutely perfect and is on his list of people we’re allowed to sleep with, so I go to the gym where he works to assess for myself (I do have 4 spaces on my list to fill in anyway). By the way if you have no idea what I’m talking about see here)
So I go there and I see a guy who fits the description in terms of facial features but I’m not sure it’s him because this guy is dressed and on his way out so I can’t see this amazing body we’ve heard so much about. In any case, the guy I see is wearing green tracksuit bottoms and most definitely gay, so if it is the guy Scott was talking about Scott is an idiot for thinking he was straight.
On Saturday evening I meet Donnell and we go out in Soho for a couple of hours. We go to a bar, Donnell has a glass of wine, I ___, then we go to a new bar where Heidi Licious works, Donnell has a glass of wine, I ___ with Heidi Licious, then we go home.
On Sunday Scott and I meet up and go to the gym where Scott’s guy works, in the hope that I will finally see him. I will refer to Scott’s guy as Aussie Personal Trainer (Aussie PT) from now on. So we go there and we’re luckier this time because Aussie PT is there and he’s still working out, so we can co-exist for a while. It turns out that it was the guy I had seen the day before, he’s still wearing his green tracksuit bottoms and he’s wearing a vest. And this is what I can tell you about Aussie PT:
- He has a good face and the nose I would like to have, and I actually will have after some plastic surgery
- He is not blonde as Scott had initially told me, he has light brown hair and Scott’s excuse for the misinformation is that Aussie PT was wearing a hat when he saw him last and he has a “blonde look” whatever that is
- He, in fact, has the best body I have ever seen in real life hands down. He has the perfect definition, tone and size, it is achingly perfect and it breaks my heart
- He is a very different kind of sexy to the Hairy Guy form my gym who I want to sleep with. Hairy Guy is just sexy in a raw masculine way. Aussie PT is absolutely flawless, like somebody typed in the specifications of the perfect human being and then had him produced. You have to trust me on this, I mean come on, I’m usually blasé about people but on this instance it’s pointless
- He does look in our direction a few times but that’s probably because we’re staring at him
- He is doing a very intense work out, for example he is sitting down shoulder press with 40kg dumbbells. To get some perspective the highest I can do is 22.5kg. Don’t let this put you off, he is NOT hugely muscly in an off-putting way. He is perfect
Looking at Aussie PT, I get in two emotional states: a) envy and b) disappointment. So yes, of course I’m jealous, but this is actually overridden by a spirit crushing realization that I can’t look like that, I never will. Some people’s response might be that they want to work out harder to achieve that, but instead I feel like stopping working out altogether, because what’s the point.
I can’t think of him sexually, I can’t even begin to imagine that I fancy him, because it’s just too unattainable. Not to mention that I wouldn’t feel comfortable going out with him because I would be the blatantly ugly one and I don’t think I can handle that. I’m not saying I’m better looking than Scott but at least we’re on equal levels.
Scott says that he wouldn’t mind going out with Aussie PT, at which point I ask him if he can even imagine how many issues Aussie PT must have and how difficult he must be, because obviously the better looking you are the more troubled you are and Scott has enough problems dealing with me even though I’m nowhere near Aussie PT levels of perfection. But that's Scott for you, he just doesn't think things through.
So I consider what my options regarding Aussie PT are for a while and these options are:
- hire him as a personal trainer so that I get to spend one hour per week in his company
- slip him GHB and date rape him
- try to be his friend so that he becomes my workout partner
- stalk him silently from a distance for the next few months
I choose the fourth one.
After the gym Scott and I go to Donnell’s house because Donnell is cooking Christmas dinner. Brendan is also there and we: talk about Aussie PT, talk about plastic surgery that I need to get, eat Christmas dinner, watch the Simpsons, play Are You Smarter Than A 10 Year Old – the board game, go home. And here’s a picture of Brendan and Scott devouring what’s left of the chicken.
And that’s all for now.