Tuesday, April 10, 2007

Blank Holiday

The Four Day weekend: A respite from the daily grind. An opportunity to leave my pit and do as much wandering around London during unseasonably warm weather as I can.

Except I didn't. Instead, I got drunk on the first night and bitched about it for three days.

Thursday night was going to be tremendously exciting. I was to meet up with newly-engaged Luke and Sabina, as well as my other ex-flatmate Robert who had also inadvertantly got himself engaged to his girlfriend. Gary was there with Suzie - another ex-flatmate who'd been engaged and is now married. Only two were missing: Hippy Dave (who has yet to get engaged but mark my words, like all Dave's sexual experiences, it won't be long), and Nick, who started this bizarre engagement ritual at the end of last year.

Nick, Luke, Rob and Garry are all old schoolmates from years gone by. A fourth, Hippy Dave, was this hippy I met at University. I'm very fond of them all, including Ally and another Rob, so I was overjoyed when Nick told me about his impending nuptuals. When Luke told me a few months later that he'd proposed to Sabina, I was overwhelmed. After all, I used to work with Bean, and in this strange circus of life (with more clowns), I was the odd link that dragged Sabina to the classiest of joints, the Walkabout in Embankment, when she first laid eyes on the man who will now become her husband, my former flatmate. (I'm tempted to reveal in my Best Man speech that he'd earlier vomited into a pint glass before she'd arrived. Or perhaps I should say he did that after he met her, for comic effect. Actually, it's probably best if I don't mention that at all. Except here.) When I found out that Rob had also proposed to his girlfriend my joy canoe, whilst still afloat, was fast careering into the rocks of OH FOR FUCK'S SAKE.

Don't misunderstand me, I'm thrilled for them all. But in the several decades it has taken me to get used to the idea that every single one of my friends are allowed to have girlfriends bar me (and Large Northern Flatmate, my partner in free time), I now have to deal with my internal nagging voice (that sounds a bit like my Mum, and occasionally is), questioning and probing as to why I'm undatable let alone unmarriable and am essentially a male Bridget Jones albeit without the sexual escapades or waist-reducing knickers.

The rest of the Bank Holiday was a blur. I wasn't that drunk - I just didn't do much. All that me-time I so desperately crave when at my desk at work, and all I do when I actually have it is watch Seinfeld as I curse myself for not having the balls, talent, or commitment to write something myself.
While eating pizza.

It wasn't all a moody, introspective waste of time. Occasionally, I'd sink a bottle of red whilst skimming the net for porn.
Although there was one notable moment in all that fun; On Saturday I met up with Phil, Natalie, Jamie and Claire, and watched the Boat Race, or more accurately, waited for two rowboats being propelled by immense toffs to pass a post to the accompaniment of drunken roars from braying Hooray Henrys and Henriettas who surrounded us, making me feel like a dreadful oik. (Cambridge won. Whoop-de-doo.)

That evening was spent in a delightful pub near the Thames, in a marquee with an appalling DJ in honour of the cash-in-athon that was the earlier race. And in the toilets, I suffered an almighty bout of Paruesis. This charming condition, although I'm not so sure it's that much of a condition than a simple mental block with a fancy name, means that every once in a while, I get this sudden, unannounced vague sense of unease and panic, meaning I couldn't wee if I'd drunk fifteen barrels of coffee, my bladder had declared a jihad on its neighbours, and I'd been jogging on the spot for a year. I just freeze, with my cock in my hand (a bit like my sex-life.)

The really embarrassing part was that I was in the relative safety of a cubicle. The man in the neighbouring enclosure had been on the phone and had suddenly become very mute and still, almost listening, waiting. It was as if he was in the cubicle with me, silently looking over my shoulder while I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to think of the Niagra Falls or a tap with water gushing out so fiercly that it's shaking. And then some cunt banged on the door and I had walk out defeated, triumphantly lying 'All done' whilst walking for the exit like John Wayne.

I think it stems from when I was a kid. With an upstairs and downstairs toilet to choose from at my childhood home, I would always use the one that had the least amount of relatives within earshot. And now I'm stuck with this. Even when at friends' or relatives' houses, on discovering that the bathroom is right next to where everyone is gathered and I can still hear them chatting from within the functional confines of the toilet, I normally allow myself a little swear, a mumbled fucknuts while my guitar discreetly excretes (eventually, after half an hour's nervous pleading.)

Why the fuck did I admit to all that? My secret shame.

But on the plus side, I'm off to New York tomorrow, for a week. I'm going to see my American ladyfriend who I would be dating if indeed we didn't live 4,000 miles apart. Ironically, just as Britain's hotting up and I cycled back from work in my t-shirt for the first time this year, I'm told that NY is stll freezing and I'll need to fetch my scarf and gloves I'd only just stuck at the back of my wardrobe yesterday.

However, I may well be having coitus very soon, as well as spending some quality time with a very lovely and intelligent lady, having some laughs, cracking jokes, skipping through Central Park, then comforting her when she bursts into tears and lays all the heavy shit on me in three days time.

Next post from the USA.


Z said...

Er, no one who actually knows you reads this, do they?

Anyway, safe journey and have a good one.

always Kris said...

I hope you have a good trip to good ole' US of A.

Fussy Bitch said...

Oh darling, I have fears about this trip.

Text me if you need picking up.


fwengebola said...

Z ~ I'm afraid I may have got drunk and... never mind.
AK ~ Thank you very much. I am looking forward to sleeping on the plane.
FB ~ Oh nononononooo, it'll be fine. Do you mean picking up in the cheerful sense? Or from the airport? Because my Dad may be in the vicinity when I come back.

Shoshana said...

Yes, NY is freezing :( Pack accordingly. Good luck with the chick!

chopperbomb said...

Yes, people that know him do read this thing. I'm just gonna go and gush gallons of urine from my penis in a free-flowing manner...

Fussy Bitch said...

God, that was possibly the most pissed I've ever posted whilst fully believing I was sober.


I meant in the cheerful sense but I also do airport runs for, er, special mates ;-)

Anonymous said...

Have a great time, look forward to reading you blog when your back,

luna said...

I've been suspecting for a while you were suffering from some anxiety disorder.
Relax!Everybody has to pee,even what's her name redhead actress who made you blush.

Sometimes it helps to flush beforehand,to create a background noise.Or do as I do and piss in the shower.

For shyness take buttercup essence drops or pink monkey flower for trauma in childhood.Courtesy of mothernature.com.

Hey if you can't let go in N.Y. are you gonna hold it in and look pregnant?

VI said...

Oooohhhh, Fwenge is finally gonna get laid!!! Does this mean we'll get a cheery post? Don't think I like that idea.

Anonymous said...

I cannot wait to hear how things go in NYC. And hey... email me while you're there... you'll only be one country away instead of a continent. Almost next door. :)

Luna's right. Flush before going... the background noise helps. Or turn on the faucet, leave it running while you go. It works. Really. :)

fwengebola said...

Shosh - Thank you. I still have no idea what's going on though.
CB - And thank you. You are a good friend. Particularly if the definition has changed recently to something more insulting.
FB - Don't worry, I've left countless drunken comments.
Not to mention posts.
WC - When I'm back? It's ongoing. I truly have no life.
Lune - Some interesting tips there. And you seem to assume that my bladder has relocated to my belly. Maybe it has. I'm already five months gone.
Vi - Some words for you: 'Arrogant'. 'Assumption'. 'Not really living in the real world'. And 'Lucky to get a peck on the cheek'.
LFM - We're talking gentlemen's bathrooms here. Faucet in the stalls/ sink in the cubicles? Nope. I will try to email you but let's just say, well, I'm using my Ladyfriend's laptop now. It's like Russian Roulette Blogging. Sort of.

Sue said...

Seinfeld always cheers me up!
Can't comment on your balls or commitment, but you do have the talent to write.

luna said...

You're blogging behind her back on HER laptop?

As they say over there are ye outtayemind?You kidding right?

Sooner or later she's gonna find out all the gossip/bitch about her plus uncover your real self.

You're a walking timebomb mate.

Mind you that's certainly about to provide more drama material for the blog,so it's all swings and roundabouts.

fwengebola said...

Sue ~ Hello Sue, I like you. You are my new best friend.
Luna ~ Ah, my old best friend. Yes, I did blog everything on her laptop. I did initially go to an internet cafe but the nearest one I found was a half hour walk away and the monitor faced the whole room.
I deleted her net history and anything else incriminating, but she may wonder what 'New York I-IV' is as it kept popping up whenever something beginning with 'N' was entered into a search field.
Bottom line, I feel a lot of shame.

luna said...

Sue don't mind him,he's Norman No Mates and hasn't got any friends let alone new,old or best.(Flatmates don't count)

fwengebola said...

Nuts to you!