We will be known forever by the tracks we leave.
So I got with a guy at a party who turned out to be more relevant in my town than I first thought. Now my town, let’s call it Vattsville for name’s sake. In this town everyone socially significant knows everyone socially significant. However I class myself as one of those people and did not know this person. I was very drunk and encouraged by several friends to get with this guy. Let’s call him Howl, as his All Saints t shirt had streaked across his chest those words exactly. I like a guy in All Saints, I’m not a brand racist or anything; it just seems that guys who love their All Saints and Urban Outfitters over their Ed Hardy and Superdry know what they’re doing. Fashion is as fickle as reputation. When you get it wrong, you live with the consequences for a long long time.
Anyway back to Vattsville; I was invited to a charity event last weekend which offered the prospect of a night off from the mundane activities of revision and consequently the brink of self-mutilation. Being a party animal forced into captivity by the shackles of education takes its toll on the best of us.
I walked into the ridiculously large marquee which revealed an abundance of boys and alcohol, laughing laced with the Buzzcocks’ seemingly suitable song ‘Ever Fallen in Love (with someone you shouldn’t)’ blasting through the speaker system.
“If you want a lift home you’re going to have to get with Howl” said my driver for the evening; I’d asked of Howl’s identity as soon as I had sat down, being the only face I didn’t recognise on our table. This is an incredibly rare occurrence that I didn’t know or at least know OF someone who was obviously close with a lot of my friends. After a couple of hours and more than a couple of drinks we got to talking with two other mutual friends. Howl was funny; however this may have been because I was on my 4th pint of Pimm’s at this point, and not my usual type (blonde AND a football player? No thanks – however give me a brunette rugby player any day of the week please) I fear the alcohol and general exam stress induced horniness may have been the reasoning behind my type shift.
I ended up getting tired of the general drunken flirting; (I am definitely that person who, when they get the signal, makes the first move simply out of boredom.) pulling him into the drinks tent and getting off with him seemed to be the best solution to this problem.
Everyone’s a lovely person when trying to pull. Many people will put on an act to get some action; I am happy to say that I am one of those people. Reputation is a funny thing, it can stop you from getting with someone but it can also keep you classy. It stops us from just getting with anyone based on looks or this fake forefront personality.
Annoyingly, no one told me of Howl’s reputation of being a fucking nutjob. This probably a clear sign to get to know someone before I get with them; but after careful considering I’ve decided to ignore this. As you only live once. If we all gave a shit about people’s back stories then we wouldn’t have fun anecdotes such as ‘remember that time A got with a guy who turned out to be a nutjob?’. Even Cas; who has a pretty (and deservedly) bad reputation for sleeping with anything that moves. Who gives a shit, if I’d have given a shit about this I wouldn’t have had sex in 8 months; and that really isn’t acceptable.
And what of my reputation you ask?
Stay Sexy
xAx
