I don’t know why I don’t want to actually type the city that I’m in, because it’s pretty fucking obvious to be honest, I mean I’ve spoken about driving north from Los Angeles, I’ve spoken about straight Palo Alto bros, where the hell do you think I am? But I don’t want to type it. Is this because I suddenly want to protect my privacy? Is it because I don’t actually want to be here? There must be a psychologist reading this, please help me.
The last sentence also applies to this blog overall.
Anyway, so I’m in this city and I knew three people when I drove here two months ago. I had met two of them once and I had met the other person twice. This is how well I knew them. On this weekend, which might be my second weekend in the city, might be my seventh, it’s hard to keep track of time when you’re shut off in a room crushing and snorting tranquilisers and typing furiously online and that’s all you’re doing (oh wait, I also go to the gym; I would never not go to the gym, because nobody would be reading what I’m typing furiously online otherwise) I’m heading out with two of those people. Let’s call them Sven and Bjorn. Sven and Bjorn are a couple.
Nobody’s really excited about this outing. I think I’m actually only out, because I haven’t spoken to a single new person in real life since I moved here and when pressed to do so by Sven and Bjorn, I choose my natural habitat: the club. Should Bjorn have those umlaut things above it? It’s starting to bother me without. Sven and Björn. I guess that’s better.
So we go to this club, which starts at 8pm. We have no ___ apart from some weed. Have you ever gone clubbing stoned? Don’t.
The club is boring. Nobody’s passing out and no circuit queens have even bothered to turn up. Then a guy from the gym gets there that I’m very interested in, with three other guys that I’m really not. A friend of Sven and Björn’s knows the four of them and takes me over to introduce me. Then he immediately leaves. All four people in my new group are very friendly, although their exact level of friendliness is inversely proportional to how attractive they are. I’m not very clever, but I do think this is how most humans work.
After a few minutes I leave my new friends and go back to my old friends, because I didn’t grow up in a farm and / or broken home and have pretty good manners. Also so I can find out who’s going out with whom in the group of four, because their interaction is confusing me. Sven and Björn’s friend tells me that the ones I’m not interested in are in a threeway relationship. Of course they are. Regardless, this is satisfactory.
Then Sven and Björn and their friend decide to leave and go home, and I decide to stay because at some point, somewhere, in my mid-20s, I lost all sense of what’s wrong and right. So I go and join my new friends, who are now on the dance floor with their shirts off in the middle of a whole big group of other people like the ones I’ve been trying to get away from. I spend the next seven hours with them, and then I go home.