The Demographic Shift

Gordon's Breakfast - 41

2007-03-07T16:15:00.003Z

I step onto the back of a passing number 19 bus on Upper Street and take it all the way back to Highbury where I jump off and walk back towards home, but as I walk pass my flat I keep on going for another couple of hundred metres until I get to Susan's mansion block style building.

I can see Susan's place from the front and all the lights are out, but the lack of light does not deter me from continuing to pressing the buzzer a few times. I don't get a reply, but this doesn't surprise me as I really didn't expect to. After trying Susan's buzzer I try a couple of others shouting "pizza" into the speaker box until someone buzzes me in.

Inside I climb the slippery ceramic tiled stairs to the second floor where I walk around to Susan's fire engine red door. I ring her doorbell, but like the buzzer I don't expect to get a reply. I press it a couple more times before I sit down outside her door and I start tapping with my fist on the hardwood.

"Suze, I know you're in there."

Again there is no reply so I tap with my fist a few more times and listen out to see if I can hear anything as I am absolutely certain she is in there. I'm certain not just because I saw Adam earlier this evening, but for other reasons as well and it clicked in the pub when Rob was talking about the Caribbean holiday Adam and Susan were supposed to be taking. It all fell into place then.

I worked out, of course, that Adam wasn't coming around to see me. He had been round on a fruitless mission to talk to Susan. It was for him just a happy coincidence that he happened to bump into me on his way home.

"Suze you'll like this, I saw Adam today, I know he came around to see you as he almost bumped into me on his way home. You probably heard him screaming down the street. You'll also be pleased to know that he chased me down the street and tried to catch me, but of course failed miserably in this endeavour. Second thoughts, you probably won't be pleased to hear me. It's just that while we both run like girls, I'm definitely the faster of the two girls among us. I think that's important, I might swing my arms around a bit, but I always get away."

There's still no answer and no movement from inside of Susan's flat, but it doesn't matter I am still convinced that she is in there so I just keep talking.

"It's not the fact that Adam came round that tipped me off, you know that don't you? It's because I know you would never go on holiday on your own. Just in case you thought I was never paying attention, I really was, and now I have this big arsenal of Suze knowledge that I can call up on at will. That's how I know that you wouldn't have gone. You don't see the point.

"This is why we have been on holiday three times in the last five years or so. I also know that you would certainly never go on a beach holiday on your own. You'd be bored rigid, you know that and I know that. Maybe Adam doesn't because he is lacking in Suze knowledge. I could have told him that, of course, but as I've been ignoring you for the last six months pretty solidly there really hasn't been a moment where I could have passed on that useful knowledge onto Adam.

"The Caribbean holiday had to be Adam's idea. He would see it as two weeks of beach sex and the ideal clichéd honeymoon destination. That's not a Suze holiday. Your ideal honeymoon destination on the other hand would be the Florida Keys, because of Humphrey Bogarde and Lauren Bacall in Key Largo, well that and the fact that you could stop on the way back in New York and intensively post wedding shop and visit friends. Thereby fulfilling all the elements of a classic holiday: shopping, scenery and romance in reverse order. That's where I would have gone."

There's still nothing and although I can't believe I got it wrong it looks like I might well have done so. So I just sit there for a little longer and don't move when finally my heart skips a beat as I hear some shuffling on the other side of the door.

"Suze? You know I'm sorry, you know about the not talking to you, the generally ignoring you and cutting you dead in the street. Not to mention not returning your telephone calls, emails or text messages. I really am sorry. Truth is, and you know it's true I missed you. I just wanted to say that. So that even if you don't answer the door at least you will know that."

I hear a little more movement, but still Susan isn't saying anything. I knock a couple more times on the door. I don't mind really, I'm here for the duration. I'm not going anywhere, I'm staying for as long as it takes.

"Suze?"
"What?" says a sour sounding voice.
"Open the door."
"No."
"I said I was sorry."
"What about my wedding?"
"I'm sorry about that too, but to be fair…"

I'm about to tell her that I was doing her a favour with my wedding intervention come grand romantic gesture, but then I think better of it. At the end of the day a girl's wedding is still her wedding even if she plans to dump the groom at the airport.

"To be fair?" she says raising her voice.
"I'm really sorry about that as well, honest."
"What's wrong with a little holiday shopping? I ask you."
She makes me smile, "Nothing at all, it's totally essential."
"Hmmm, it's not that easy."
"I know."
"I'm kind of pissed off."
"Thought you might be, but why don't you open the door."

And then she does and we're sitting on either side of the door in the darkness looking at each other, me backlit by the communal hallway light, and Susan silhouetted in the dim light like a girl in between.

"So what are we going to do?" Susan asks me.

I shake my head, "I don't know, we could see how it goes."

Susan smiles.

"Okay, she says, "that sounds like a plan. I'm worn out getting married is tiring."

We both laugh at this, struck by the weirdness of the situation.
"They should mention that in the brochure," I say.
"Gord, there is no brochure, I think that's part of the problem."
"Really? Damn them and their lack of brochures."

Susan smiles, again, "Look, we can talk later."

"We could go out for dinner tomorrow? Anywhere you like?"
"Anywhere?"
"Anywhere, I've been saving."
"Oh I like a boy who plans ahead," she says.

I nod and with that we get up and stand facing each other for just a little while. Suddenly we are both aware that we're in new uncharted territory and we're about to go boldly or boldly go, definitely one or the other and I suddenly worry if there's a difference and maybe it's really important in a way that it all comes down to the final emphasis and spin that you apply.

We're aware that there are new rules to play that we should now be enacting them. Susan underlines this as she offers her hands out and shrugs her shoulders, smiles, and the moment skids along bathed in an uncertain glow a little longer.

It's like she is asking what are we now? Have we crossed some finishing line?

That's the question waiting to be answered. I'm not sure what the answer is and I find myself grimacing, nodding, and then I step forward and kiss Susan on the cheek.

Susan nods, smiles, but doesn't say anything in acknowledgement that I seem to have answered the question for the both of us one way or another. For a little longer it seems that we stand as we stood, as it is when it was.

Susan give me a wave of her hand and I likewise and then I turn for the stairs and she closes the door to her flat behind me. I head down the stairs taking each step in turn, one at a time, in absolutely no rush and I head out of her building and begin making the short walk up the street that spells home.

Back inside my flat the lights are out and Johnny and my sister are not around. I turn on the stereo and select my mellow indie play list and the iPod begins to crank out the Foo Fighters who sing "...When I talk about it, it carries on…".

In the kitchen I take a beer from the fridge and crack it open. Back on the couch I lay back and listen to the music. Thinking about what I've just done and I just don't move and I'm sitting there going nowhere.

I've been sitting for an hour or more, and have drunk several beers just listening to the music and thinking over the weekend by the time the phone rings. I've kind of been expecting it and so when I lean over and lift the handset from its cradle I know that I don't even need to speak as by the time that it reaches my ear Susan is already talking.

"I've been thinking, about what I said."
"Oh really, which part are we talking about?"

Even before she tells me I know what she is going to say. I'm having one of those moments one of those sudden rare flashes of certainty that feels quite true. Susan is about to tell me that she wasn't exactly being truthful about this time not needing to be desperately in love. I just know that this is what she is going to say.

"The thing about being desperately in love. I was lying before. I don't know why I did that, I suppose I was having a funny turn, do you have any idea?"
"No," and I shake my head as I say this, "No I don't why you did that either."
"I thought that I would tell you so that you knew what was on my mind."
"Thanks…yeah," I say.

At this point it feels like I should say something else, rather than keep my answer staccato and short but I don't say anything. I close my mouth and sit there on the couch waiting for Susan so speak again.

"I was thinking that we could go for dinner tomorrow to that restaurant that you like so much. What do you think?"
"I think that's a very good idea."
"Okay, shall I meet you there?"
"You want to meet me there?"

As I say this I am tempted to add, but Suze we live on the same street as each other, doesn't it make sense to go together, but somehow I don't. Maybe it's for the same reason that I didn't keep talking before even when I felt that I should.

"Don't you think that's best?" Susan asks me.
"Yeah, I guess you're right, that's probably the best idea."
"I thought as much," she says.

And with that Susan hangs up just as she always does.

Gordon's Breakfast - 40

2007-02-16T17:20:00.002Z

As we're leaving, well I'm already halfway up the garden path, I hear Alison's mother shout out, after us "Don't forget to stay out late," and it's true, it's just like Alison said I am in some alternate universe. Her mother is attempting to get me to date her daughter.

As we head up the street to hail a taxi I tell Alison that things with her mother have got seriously out of hand.

"Can't you get her something?"
"What do you suggest?"
"I'm not sure, a holiday? Your mother seems to have got the wrong idea."
"I know, she seems to think you are magical replacement for Paul since he became an unperson. Sorry."
"That's okay, tell her, I'm not magical."
"I'll try."
"Ali, try hard. Remind her of my long, long list of failings and general unsuitability?"
"Oh don't worry I have."
"Oh cheers."
"But in a good way."
"What kind of a good way."
"Well, I've mercilessly trashed you, but no affect whatsoever."
"Your kidding, I'm a dating disaster mother's always hate me. What's gone wrong?"
"Desperation."
"Damn, of course, I need to get a Heisenberg desperation compensator. You know like in Star Trek, it solved all problems."
"My mother doesn't believe anyone could be quite that useless," she says smiling.
"Seriously, I don't mind, honestly keep going. I could, if it helps your case, provide documentary evidence."
"Maybe you should, if you could possible get your long list of exes to slate you on Youtube that I think would help your case."
"Ali, you know not a single one of them ever wants to see me every again?"
"True, but surely they would jump at a chance to wreck a future relationship?" "Good point, I'm on it."
"You know what I think I need, not a boyfriend but I think I need a GBF."
"Ugh? You lost me. GBF?"
"A Gay Best Friend, I think I need one."
"Aren't regular best friends okay?"
"Regular ones are okay, but I think every woman gets to a stage in her life when she needs a GBF. Susan's wedding was a case in point. I needed someone to go with. It would have been an ideal for a GBF. Besides I think it would take the pressure off with my mother. As I really can't imagine meeting anyone else. It sounds odd and I know that I probably will, considering how I got pregnant easy enough, but I just can't see it. I can't connect with how it might happen."
"You're a catch."
"Oh right, such a catch. Single mother catch."
"Come on, I imagine guys will be falling over themselves."

Alison looks at her feet.

"Nothing doing down here, no falling insight."
"Give it time."
"Sweet, but I don't think guys fall over themselves to bag 35 year old single mothers whose idea of a good night out is staying in and wondering why she hasn't got a GBF."
"Okay point, besides you have me, you know I have no fashion sense and don't know any Dorothy jokes, but…"
"Oh, but you're going to meet someone soon."
"Are you sure? My record is kind of poor."
"What about Larissa?"
"Larissa Snowe? That bird has kind of flown, you know like flown the country."
"Maybe you could fly too."
"I thought about that."
"You did?"
"Sure I did."
"And? What the whole chase the girl around the world thing? I'm impressed."
Yeah, but I don't really think I'm the flying type, besides…"
"She did dump you three times."
"Exactly. There is that."

Out on Holloway road, we hail a black cab and sail forward towards Islington.

The cab pulls up outside the Crown pub, just off of Upper Street, and Alison and I head inside to the dimly lit pub with its candlelight and mixture of rickety tables and chairs and old leather couches. I order some drinks at the bar while Alison picks a table. It's only when I join her that I finally get around to telling her about Adam.

"I haven't even told you my wildly surprising news about how I was chased down the street on the way over to your place."
"OMG, are you alright? What happened?"
"I'm fine, my legs still have what it takes to run like a crazy coward, but it's really who was chasing me. It was Adam."
"Adam? But he's meant to be on a Caribbean beach with Susan. What a mystery."
"I know, what's going on?"
"You're sure it was him and not some other person you might have pissed off at some point who chose this confluent time to chase you down the street."
"It was Adam, I mean he never got that close, but I could see him clearly."
"But I saw him get married and have the first dance and then head off in a taxi to the airport with Susan. It can't have been Adam."
"Maybe he forgot something?"
"You mean like he had just got married?"
"Well that would make sense. Seriously it was Adam he was shouting 'fucking bastard' and he was running down my street."
After a couple of drinks and still no further into unravelling the Adam mystery I come back from the bathroom to find Alison talking on her mobile phone.

"Ali what are you doing?"
"Oh, I'm solving the Adam mystery. I'm calling Rob."
"You're what! Not Rob, please put the phone down. Rob is awful."
"He's not that bad, besides he hits on me every time I see him and flatters me endlessly."
"You like that?"

Alison smiles, raises her eyebrows and manages to roll her eyes at the same time. Endless flattery who would have thought that would have worked?!

"Oh in a funny kind of way I rather do. He's never serious and he's quite charming in a dishevelled kind of way."
"Okay, that's all very nice, but please don't call him."
"Gordie do you want to know why Adam was chasing you or not?"

Alison pauses and looks up at me and when she sees no more sign of protest other than a look of pain she continues to make her call.

"I thought so. Rob will know the answer."

Rob was Adam's best man, but I can guarantee you now that Rob won't just tell Alison he will insist on coming down to the pub and make us suffer for hours. Rob is another friend we went to school with, but he's really more a friend of Adam's than anyone else who used to follow Alison around for years like a puppy dog in a leather jacket. Alison played up to it terribly.

Rob turns up about 20 minutes later and he looks exactly like he always looks. His hair is a curly wiry mess, flecked with grey, and his face has a growth of two-day-old stubble. He has on his thick black plastic Elvis Costello type specs, which are now popular again but which have been worn by Rob since he was 11. The right arm of which seems to be held on by cellotape. Even at school they were always broken, but back then it was because people were always punching him and breaking his glasses after another comment. Rob really was one of those people who asked for trouble, got it, and kept asking. Despite this Rob always refused to be silenced and by the time sixth form came and university beckoned and we had all generally grown out of punching each other his comments, while still as numerous as ever, were largely ignored or more often rejoined by matching invective. He is dressed in beaten blue 501 jeans, a black Joy Division T-shirt and an ancient (almost timeless) black leather jacket of the kind popular at various stages in years past. It is very much like he found his look 18 years ago and just stayed with it.

"Alright," he says as he spots the two of us.

It's at this point that it hits me that fading Australian accent. That is another thing Rob had working against him. He was a displaced Aussie whose parents had moved back to the UK after more than ten years living down under. Despite being in the UK for 20 years now he has refused to loose his Australian accent. He seems to hang onto it with a grim determination.

"I have to say Alison you look rather stunning tonight."
"You creep Rob."
"Ah know, but at least I know how to offer a compliment."
"Now, now, no fighting, besides I don't remember you saying anything about my dress."

I'm about to leap to my defence and bemoan Alison's disloyalty when I stop as I realise Alison is quite right. I did the whole unspoken language thing again. I thought it, but just never said it. Damn, there is nothing worse than getting shown up by Rob. Oh the embarrassment of it all.

"Come on then Johnson do us some more of ya comedy routine. I didn't know you did weddings until Saturday."

See what I mean? He still calls me by surname as if we were still out on the school rugby fields. If only a punch in the ribs for old time scrumming down sakes were acceptable.

"Sorry, Rob I only take bookings."

Rob just laughs at this and sits down opposite Alison and I and he's grinning wildly like the cat that got the cream, and I mean all of the cream, every last damn drop of it.

"Get me a drink then Johnson."
"I just knew you would milk this for all your worth."
"Well you knew right, now mine's a pint, and none of the cheap shite."

Alison smiles at me. She seems to find the whole thing rather hilarious. I think I might have to revise the whole best thing, as Alison is really not best when being endlessly flattered by Rob.

I move to the bar and get Rob his pint of beer and return from the bar to see Rob making his usually googly eyes at Alison. I worry that in a weakened moment she might take pity on him I mean it would be awful. At least as awful as Susan marrying Adam. I think I would be really incredibly jealous. I feel like dropping to my knees, throwing my arms in the air and shouting "NO", but instead I hand Rob his drink and take my seat.

"So darling are you going to tell us what happened?" Alison coos.
"I promised I wouldn't, you know as part of my best man duty to Adam, but I've never been able to say no to a beautiful girl," he says grinning at Alison who is just loving it, "besides Adam's a total twat."
"Will you listen to him? I mean seriously, come on?"
"Gordon?" Alison says.

Gordon? How can she possibly call me Gordon in front of Rob? Okay, I know it's my name, but that's really not the point.

"Okay. I'll sit here and say nothing. Seriously, I'm fine."
"Come on now David, tell us what happened?"
"You're never going to believe this. I thought it couldn't get any better after Johnson and that girl did the comedy routine at the back, but it got much better. It all went to shit when they got to the airport."

Rob is hooting with laughter by this stage, he can hardly get the words out.

"What happened?" I ask urgently.
"Yes, David tell us what happened at the airport."
"It turns out that Adam has been seeing Karen Young again and Susan knows all afuckingbout it mate, that's what's been going on."

OMG. Alison and I turn to each other delirious at the latest turn of events. At least I think we are delirious, we could just be consumed by schadenfreude, but that might just be me.

Karen Young, is the one. Well she's Adam's one at least. She's the one who got away. Adam dumped her after about five years ranging from the end of school to post university when they drifted apart ending up with her working on a PhD in Leeds and he hundreds of miles away in London. Karen is tall and willowy with red river brown hair that fell straight and loose around her neck. She had a warm easy smile, a soft walk, and there was always something about her.

"They found each other on Friends Reunited dotcom."
"But I thought she had a picture perfect marriage to some academic in the north of England and with a kid, right?"

Rob is still smiling, the guy is beaming, basking in his moment.

"She's an academic alright. I'll give you that."
"Rob you get far too much enjoyment out of this. It's not healthy," I say.

Rob just grins, "She's moved back home you know? She's single as well, with a four year old in tow."
"A four year old what?"

Alison laughs at this causing the grin on Rob's face to widen.

"A child Gordie, a four year old child."
"Oh, right, and what they met up?"
"They met up and have been shagging for months."
"I don't understand, this was going on for the whole time Susan and Adam were planning their marriage."
"The whole time. The story is that Karen, fresh from her divorce didn't want anything serious so was happy to carry on with Adam."
"So when did Susan find out? She kept that quiet," says Alison, "what happened at the airport?"
"Weeks ago apparently. According to Adam, Susan without saying anything tore up his ticket and passport right in front of him and told him it was over. He says she went off on her own."
"You have to hand it to Susan," I say.
"Too right," says Rob, "she gave him what for alright."
"It's fantastic news."
"Gordie? They were getting married."
"I know, which was obviously a massive mistake, I think it's great."
"He's right," says Rob.
"Thanks Rob, I mean I think, but I guess it also means that I am not responsible for wrecking Susan's wedding and marriage. Adam did it all by himself, come on Ali that has to be good news."
"Oh I suppose so, I just think of Susan alone on the beach. That just seems so sad."
"You're right it does, but it could have been worse. She could have gone with Adam. Who hasn't come out of this too badly as he still has Karen Young. Who lets face it is not a bad thing to have."

Rob takes a long drag of his cigarette.

"He's right, Adam might be a twat, but at least he's got Karen Young. And lets face it any girls name you can rhyme with bubblegum has to be a good thing."

I hold my hands out. Bubblegum? What's that got to do with anything.

"Bubblegum, what are you talking about Rob?"

Rob smiles at this and says nothing.

"I'm not sure that's the point," says Alison, "I can't believe what he's done to Susan."
"Nor can I," I say smugly crossing my arms to underline the point.
"I don't think your entitled to any self righteousness just yet, lets not forget you systematically ignored Susan for six months and then tried at the last moment to wreck her wedding."
"But it was a grand romantic gesture," I protest.
"Damn lazy last minute gesture is more like it. I don't think Susan is going to be welcoming you with open arms just yet. You have a lot of apologising to do."
"Yeah, at least he's got a couple of weeks practice to get in while she suns it up on the beach. I bet she'll meet some bloke and get a honeymoon shag in. She won't be on her own for long."
"Rob you really are..."

And I'm about to tell him how that he is the last of the romantics when I get this really strong feeling that I should go. That I should go right now.

"I just realised something," I say, "I have to go."

Alison looks at me like I'm slightly mad while Rob gives the impression that it's the best news he's heard all evening as he grins the biggest of grins.

"Go, go where?"
"I just remembered something," I say.
"You're a daft one Johnson," says Rob smiling.
"Rob, you are not wrong there mate," I say getting up and grabbing my denim jacket from the back of my chair as I do so.
"You're going to do anything very stupid are you?"

I shake my head and give this a moment's consideration. Well nothing too stupid.

"No nothing really stupid, you know give or take. I'll call you," I say.

I kiss Alison on the cheek and clap Rob on the shoulder.

"You know you can't just fly to the Caribbean, don't you?" Alison says.

I smile at this, do a double take.

"You can't?"
"Gordon," Alison says slowly.
"Look, don't worry I'm not going to be flying anywhere, see you later," I say and I am out of the pub and back on the street.

Gordon's Breakfast - 39

2007-02-06T11:44:00.002Z

After saying goodbye to Larissa Snowe I take the tube back home, shower and change before heading straight out of the flat again over to Alison's house. Tonight Alison and I are going out on the town, well almost, we're heading over our favourite gastro pub in Islington for a post wedding evening, but it's still a big deal as Alison just doesn't go out anymore even though her mother is on the phone every day of the week volunteering to come over and look after Caitlin. Okay, it''s completely selfish on her mother's part as she wants to hurl Alison back into the post Paul world like some thirty something shock troop woman.

Alison's mother has won her daughter round tonight, but she's still not all that keen. Most of the time she says she would rather stay home drink some wine and watch DVDs.

As I head down the street I've only been walking for a minute or so when I hear some shouting coming from behind me. I sensibly ignore it first of all knowing that it has absolutely nothing to do with me and is likely to be one of the charming local drunks calling out for more beer who truth be told are not really that charming.

My favourite one is the Scottish guy who walks up to people and says: "I have nae eaten for three days". It doesn't matter when you see him or how many times you see him in a week it is always three days. It must be like a rule.

As I walk on ignoring the drunk behind me, rather than fading into the background the voice becomes clearer and more insistent and worryingly seems to be moving closer. I know this as I can now clearly hear the phrase "fucking bastard" being shouted repeatedly. The shouting is getting much closer, is accompanied by heavy footsteps, and worse still it is definitely directed at me.

It takes my eyes a little while to penetrate the gloom and when they finally do things get really bad as the shouting voice in fact belongs to Adam who is now running towards me at full pelt closing the distance between us at a rate of knots. I stand there for a few seconds and watch him run when I suddenly start to think that he probably isn't going to want to have just a quiet word with me, but more likely is going to attempt to use me as a punch bag. Now I think is the time to start running.

As I'm running I'm thinking to myself how weird as Adam is meant to be in the Caribbean with Mrs Wright who was once just known as Susan rather than running down my North London street hurling a barrage of expletives and murderous intent at me.

I'm breathing hard and pounding the pavement. Luckily being smaller than Adam's lumbering six foot four I'm considerably lighter and faster on my feet and have put enough distance between us to ensure that when I get to the end of the road I can make it to the next turning before Adam has even got to the end of the street. Taking myself back down the next street, I cut through the alley and keep going until it starts to bend when I stop and generally pant a little while my heart slams against my chest like baseball being bounced against a cage. I should really exercise more especially if I'm going to have to out run Adam on a regular basis.

Catching my breath I stand there for a while having these flashbacks of being a kid come rushing back to me, which I think means its been about 20 years since I've had to run for my life. I wait a little longer to check that I have given Adam the slip, which I seem to have done successfully, and then I break back into a run for a couple of minutes just to be sure and then I walk the rest of the way to Alison's. There's something rather satisfying at having outrun someone who is out for your blood, but I wouldn't like to do it on a regular basis just in case the running part failed to sufficiently pay off.
I mean I could have held my ground. Adam is no more of a street fighter than I am and all our moves are confined to the Playstation 2, as was witnessed by our pushing contest earlier this year, but I worry that he will swing and kick out at me and generally we'll look ungainly like two people who really don't know the first thing about fighting. Somehow I can't think of anything worse than that – oh hang on a second, I can. Getting a real beating would definitely be worse.

There's a slight concern that his anger might boil Hulk like over into something productive and more dangerous. I mean it's a long shot, but still.

Of course, he would have every right to do so. I after all did have a crack at trying to wreck his wedding and scuttle his future happiness, but in return I could argue I had every right to do so. Okay, so it's not a watertight argument. Come on I'm reaching, what can I say.

To be fair, well to be fair to me, they should remove that clause from the wedding ceremony as it surely only encourages people with crackpot plans (like Larissa Snowe) to attempt crackpot stunts. I feel it is only fair to blame her now as she has left the country and is heading out over the Atlantic Ocean.

Alison's mother opens the door and she offers me her check to kiss. I have to tell you that this is a bit of a new development and it really just adds to my general sense of alarm and concern. I mean I have no objection to Alison's mother and her cheek it's just that it's a new addition to our relationship and I'm worried what it all means to her.

"Oh look whose here," she coos, "young Gordon."

Instead I follow Alison's mother into the sitting room as she starts to tell me how much Alison is looking forward to her 'big night out'. This rings more alarm bells and frankly I'm now more perturbed than ever.

Alison's mother seems to be under the impression that Alison and I are teenagers and I am here to take her daughter out on her first date.

I'm just waiting for her to tell me what time Alison has to be back home ("She has school tomorrow Gordon") and that I had better not try any funny stuff, which is a shame as my jokes are really my best feature. I feel like I should at least remind her that Alison and I are no longer teenagers or attending school, but oddly I think that if I did this she would just smile indulgently at me like other people's parents can in that "oh you and your crazy young ideas" kind of way, which is really the cue for some more motherly advice.

I'm praying that Alison makes a fast appearance as her mother is starting to ask me lots of questions about work and the future (the what?). It's starting to remind me about this Jewish girl I dated.

On date four or five I met her mother at some family gathering and she grilled me intensively:

"A journalist you say? There's not much money in journalism is there?".
"That is very true," I admitted, "but I do enjoy it."
"You enjoy it you say, really?"
"Well most of the time."

It was one of the worst nights of my life. It went on for an hour. Wherever I went in the room she would saddle up to me. I wanted to ask her where the emergency exit was as I knew that she would gladly direct me ("here's £10 for your cab").

It's the opposite with Alison's mother she seems convinced I am the one for her daughter whereas Rachel's mother was of the opposite opinion.

Sadly Alison is taking her time, which leads to me becoming flustered and making an awful awful mistake. Instead of telling her than I am doing really pretty badly at the moment I tell her that I'm doing quite well and have loads of work on. Alison's mother loves this, she tells me she always knew that I would go far, which can't possibly be true as no one ever said that. It's all madness, but there is no way out so I keep on digging gripping my knees as I do as imaginary dirt flies over my head. I'll be up to my neck in no time.

Finally like the long awaited relief column Alison makes her appearance and I have to say she is looking great. Her hair is kind of shiny and she has this little black dress on that's kind of not too dressy if you know what I mean. I am up out of my seat and saying goodnight to Alison's mother and I'm moving towards the door.

"I'll get the door," I say, which makes Alison laugh.

I can't believe I said that. Everybody knows you only get the door when there is actually someone on the other side of it not when you are leaving. I am such a fool when it comes to making emergency exits.

Gordon's Breakfast - 38

2007-01-25T16:18:00.000Z

It's almost six o’clock when Larissa Snowe and I are standing outside her house, her suitcases and bags packed and lined up in an orderly row on the pavement, waiting for Charlotte to arrive and drive her to the airport. It's grimy humid September day and feels like a rather perfect day to be leaving.

]I'm kicking the kerb with my shoe and I have my hands stuffed deep in my pockets of my now deeply crumpled post-wedding suit. I think I have pretty much perfected the look of the guy who didn't make it home after the party. Larissa Snowe is dressed in designated comfy travel gear loose fitting black cotton trousers and a white long sleeved top. She has her hands locked together and pushed in front of her and is swaying very slowly from side to side marking time to some silent beat.

"Errrm look," I say.
"You don't have to wait, she'll be here any moment, go. I only plan to get weepy once and Charlie has reserved that slot."
"I don't like to leave you standing, you and all your bags."
"Well you're going to have to."
"I could…"
"No you couldn't."
"You don't know what I'm going to say."
"Oh yes I do and the answer is no."
"I was going to say that I could still come to the airport."
"I told you I knew, you know you can't. Then we'd have airport history."
"What you mean as well as other more general history?"
"Yes as well as that, one can have too much history."
"True, altogether a lot of history going on there."
"Exactly."
"I had something else I wanted to say."
"Oh really? Is that a good idea, people tend to get all mushy and say things they regret at times like this."
"I know, but I'm not going to regret this."
"Are you sure? Maybe we should do the regret test first."
"The regret test? And that would be?"
"It's where you stand and think about what it is you are going to say and ask yourself would you say it in public without being completely and utterly humiliated."
"Okay, I think I passed the regret test. At least I think I have, you'll have to let me know. It might be one of those things that teeters on the edge a bit."
"Gordon, you're making me nervous now."
"Sorry."
"Go on then, hit me with it."
"You know, I'm kind of nervous now, I wasn't expecting such a build up."
"Oh get on with it."
"Okay...well, I was just going to say...that you know."
"You know? I know what?"
"Come on, you know what I mean."
"Not quite, but then communication skills have never been your strong point have they?"
"I guess, when you put it that way, possibly not."
"So in full?"
"I'm going to miss you," I say.
"I'm glad you said it. I think I’ve been waiting to hear that for a while. I don't think its something you would have said before that. Must be progress. I think you would have just smiled and been under the impression that we all speak the unspoken language."

I can't help laughing this it's so true. The unspoken language and me go back along long way. I've been miscommunicating with people for years quite happily. Apparently, and I didn’t know this, very few speak the unspoken language, shocker right? So if you really want to get through to someone you actually have to get the words out loud. I still find that hard to believe, but you know apparently it’s true.

"You're right, it does seem to work better when you say it aloud."
"Who would have guessed?"
"Not me."
"I'm going to miss you too, you got that bit didn’t you?"
"Yeah, my residual unspoken language receptors are still working."
And then it's Larissa Snowe 's turn, "Look..."
"Maybe I should just kiss you and be done with it?"
"I think so."

So we do and then really that's it, we're kind of done.

"I should go then."
"Guess you should."

There's a car pulling up behind us and I start to take a couple of steps backwards, I glance over my shoulder and see Charlotte's black VW Beetle gliding towards us. I raise my hand in front of my body like I'm saying 'how' and Larissa Snowe does the same.

"You should come visit me, if you've got nothing else to do," Larissa Snowe calls.
"What you mean we could be holidaying exes?"
"Don't get your hopes up, you know I would never go out with you again," she says smiling.
"Hey, I'm not challenged, besides I think there's only one girl who would go out with me."
"Well you had your chance."
"So I've been told. I'll guess I’ll be seeing you in Barcelona, although you do realise we will then have holiday history, right?"
"Oh I hadn't thought of that."
"Have a good flight," I say and I turn and walk away.

Gordon's Breakfast - 37

2007-01-16T11:19:00.000Z

I'd like to tell you something about Sunday, but apart from that it's the day after Saturday and that it followed Susan's wedding, and our genius wedding intervention, I really can't help you out other than to say Larissa Snowe and I had a rather brilliant post wedding intervention lunch and end of summer cocktail session, which sadly confined me to the couch for most of the day drinking Darjeeling tea and watching black and white movies.

Larissa Snowe although groggy did manage to dedicate herself yesterday to a little more Barcelona packing, but she who is usually industrious under any circumstances agreed after a while that spending the rest of the day lying on the couch and not moving was really quite the best kind of activity that anyone could dream up.

I'm still lying on the couch on Larissa Snowe's couch today reading Nabakov, but mostly watching Larissa Snowe scurry around the her house like manic packing girl. I swear that girl loves to pack. Even though she has booked herself a sensible night flight and has hours to go, and all her bags are arranged like statues in a row, she keeps going. Larissa Snowe tells me that she knows exactly what her luggage allowance is and she intends to use it all. By this later afternoon stage she has checked off all her checklists and is really just engaged in a mopping up operation that has her combing her house looking for stragglers in the form of any items that she might have overlooked.

"Are you actually looking for anything in particularly?" I ask her.

Larissa Snowe puts her hand to her chin and surveys the room.

"I'm just looking at things that jump out and scream 'take me take me'."
"And how many calls have you had so far?"
"None, I thought more would call out, what do you think is behind the lack of calling?"
"You know why that is don't you? You've packed everything, your flat is almost bare, now Lissa please stop and sit down."
"The thing is I know that they are out there, just out of reach."
"Whoa."
"Whoa? Yeah, whoa, you know what's happening don't you? You're turning into crazy packing girl."
"I thought you said I was a little eccentric?"
"I did, but like any good airline I've upgraded you it seemed necessary."
"Hmmph."

My phone rings as Larissa Snowe continues to look and as I pick it up and look at the blue lit up screen I see its Alison. I show the screen to Larissa Snowe who tells me to get as many details as possible about the fate of the wedding post our performance.

"Hey," I go.
"Hey back to you," says Alison, "I can't believe you kept that quiet, that is so unlike you, you never usually keep anything quiet."
"I know," I say, "I feel like I'm growing, my ability to keep big nuclear sized secrets is a sure sign."
"You're right about the sure sign," she says.
"So how did we go down?"
"Well I think most people were unaware that comedy routines are part of the ceremony. I think you were a big hit, if not in all the right places. Adam was burning."
"Ha! I can't say I feel bad about that."
"I have to say I was very impressed. I couldn't believe you would ever attempt anything so…"
"Bold?"
"Bold yes, but…"
"But, you know I could really do without the but," I say.
"Sorry about that. I was going to say suicidal."
"Oh, I suppose, you're right, it was a bit last stand, but last stands are underrated there's the glory, the honour. People love that stuff."
"The death? I seem to remember that death is a part of last stands as well."
"Yeah, there is the death, but I'm trying not to think about that so much right now."
"Did you ever consider doing anything before the wedding?"
"You know we did, but in the end grand romantic gesture won out."
"Grand romantic gesture? Is that what they're calling it?"
"Well it's what I hear."
"It's a shame."
"So it goes."
"And it goes both ways," says Alison.
"Yeah, touché, so come on tell me."
"I suppose you want to know if it still happened?"
"Can I lie and say no?"
"Of course you can. Lying in your situation is perfectly acceptable."
"Cool."
"But I'm sure soon enough you're bound to bump into Mr and Mrs Adam Wright."
"Shocking, I feel like I just tripped into some alternate universe where only the madly impossible is possible. Is she keeping her name?"
"You know, I don't think she is. I don't think Susan is half as unconventional as people might think at times."
"True. Do you think I can make it out of this alternate universe?"
"I don't think so, you're travel permit has been revoked, for unspecified crimes. You'll just have to live in a world where there is a Susan Wright."
"That sucks, tell me it was a beautiful moment, you know after Lissa and I beat a retreat."
"It was a beautiful moment."
"Seriously, was it?"

There's a pause on the other end of the line as Alison goes mmm as she thinks it over.

"If you had asked me last year I would have told you that all wedding are beautiful moments in their own special way. Now…I don't know. I think Susan looked stunning in her dress and there was a moment when I first saw her walk by that made the day for me."
"That's a rather wonderful thing to say, Susan would love that."
"I know she would, but it happens to be true."
"I swear she's wasted."
"You swear a lot of things."
"True. How long do you think it will last?"
"Mmm, not sure, but I wouldn't get your hopes up?"
"Hey, you mean hopes go up as well as down? I never knew that, damn."

Alison indulges me and laughs.

"Are you taking Lissa to the Airport?"

This is a big question and the answer is no. I wanted to, but Larissa Snowe won't let me. She's worried that we'll have airport history. You know the joke when your girlfriend, or in my case non/ex-girlfriend, says to you 'how come you never take me to the airport anymore?'. I love that movie. And don't talk to me about the dark side.

"No she's worried we'll have airport history."
"It's a good point, no one need unnecessary airport history."
"I guess. What time do you want me over?"
"Oh my mother is coming round at seven, so after that?"
"Okay."
"You know my mother is looking forward to seeing you again."
"Ali, that worries me, you know?"
"I know it worries me too."
"You don't think she thinks, you know?"
"I think she might."
"I have got to put her straight, this could get out of hand."
"Are you sure about that? Last time you tried you ended up as the man in charge."
"Good point, maybe I should say nothing."
"I really think that's best," Alison says.

And with that we both hang up and I sit there for a moment or two and find myself saying "ugh" out loud. and then thinking, thinking…well really not sure what I'm thinking.

"What's wrong?" asks Larissa.

I shake my head.

"Oh nothing," I say.

And to myself, "it was just something that Alison said".

Gordon's Breakfast - 36

2007-01-04T15:06:00.000Z

Of the many things I wished I had never uttered that last sentence is up there quite highly on the list. Immediately after I've said it a fresh round of church titters rises.

"Yes and it was really for old time's sake," Lucy Snowe threw in.
"Anyway who told you," I shout.
"Alison did," and Susan stumps her foot.
"Oh Susan," Alison says sliding down in her seat, baby and all.
"Alison!" I shout, "I can’t believe you did that."
"Sorry."
"I told you not to tell anyone."
"Why did you do that?" Larissa Snowe asks.
"Because I thought I was a secret."
"I don't care how many times you did it what are you doing at my wedding?"
"That's pretty obvious," Larissa Snowe cries back.
"Larissa Snowe? Maybe I can take over now?"
"Look can you two just pi…" Adam starts.
"Adam, be quiet," Susan snaps.
"You know why I'm here I can't believe you're marrying Adam."
"Ha, too late," Adam snipes back with a self-satisfied grin on his face.

Susan throws him another dirty look before she stamps her foot again.

"This is precisely why I couldn't ever go out with you even if you had got off your lazy backside and asked me, which you never," did and Susan stamps her foot again to drive this point home.

"What are you talking about this is a grand romantic gesture," I say.
"It's not a grand romantic gesture, you fool, it's a juvenile and immature stunt, which is you all over."
"Well I think it's a grand romantic gesture," Larissa Snowe says.
"I don't care what you think. I bet it wasn't even your idea. I bet it was her idea – who you're sleeping with! Now if you don't have anything else to say will the two of you please go! Now!"
"Of course I have something else to say," I shout back.
"What? I'm waiting," and Susan starts tapping her foot, did I mention Susan can be so demanding sometimes?

Truth is I don't have anything else to say, I can't believe how badly thought through this plan is, but as the seconds tick by I realise if nothing else I have absolutely certainty on my side and logic and so I fall back on the most reliable and quite unbeatable section of my argument.

"You can't marry Adam," I say.
"And why not?"
"Yeah, why not," Adam joins in.
"Adam," Susan says.
"What?"
"Because he's...oh I don't know, but you can't, what better reason do you need than that?"
"That's not a reason," Susan cries.
"Of course it is," I respond.
"That's useless even by your half baked standards. Adam is mature. He's a grown-up, which is what you need when you're 34."
"That's absolutely rubbish, he's not mature. He's just tall, that's completely different, you're confusing two very separate things."

This last comment of mine is so successful that it draws another round of laughter, which possibly was not the effect I was looking for. Susan on the other hand just makes a loud growling noise in frustration.

"Urrrgh, that's it go, now! Immediately."

I think I'm pretty sure I've blown it at this point and so I look at Larissa Snowe who is grinning back at me sheepishly and then shrugs her shoulders and trying not to look at anyone else we slip out of the pew and walk back down the aisle to the church door. I am desperate to look over my shoulder as we retreat, but despite the strongest temptation I don't.

Outside the sun is shinning brighter than every before. It is in fact a beautifully sunshiny English summers day. Clear and sharply bright causing everything to sparkle. We put on our sunglasses and we light cigarettes.

"Well that went well," I say.
"Hmmm, I thought you gave up too easily."
"Gave up too easily?"
"Yes, I thought you should have fought it out."
"I kind of took my cue to leave when she said go now and immediately. I think it was kind of over by that point. It just left me with the impression that we weren't going to stop any wedding."
"Second thoughts I think you're right as wedding interventions go it was poor."
"Agreed, anyway I think that qualifies rather easily as the most stupid thing I have ever, and I mean ever, done."
"Well I really did think it was a grand romantic gesture. It worked for me."

I shake my head and I feel a smile spread.

"Thanks, you weren't quite the target audience, but hey I guess the market for grand romantic gestures isn't quite what it used to be."
"Well what does one do after trying to break up a wedding?" Larissa Snowe says grinning.
"You know, that's what I like about you, abject failure – you're okay with it. You're just so optimistic."
"Oh I can't hep it. I'm just ready for my next challenge."
"I'm thinking funeral? Not sure what the angle is, but maybe we can swing it. What do you say?"
"Take me to the corpse," Larissa Snowe says laughing, "any suggestions?"
"Well, it's damned sunny and rather a perfect day and considering how quickly alcohol goes to one's head in weather like this I say we drink cocktails and a lavish lunch to celebrate our failed wedding intervention. That leaves you one clear day to recover and sort yourself out for Barcelona."
"Oh I think that's a splendid idea. You do know of course that we will end up very drunk?"
"Hey I'm rather counting on it."
"You know what this means don't you?"
"Errr not exactly."
"We may end up back at my place."

I can't help laughing at this, particularly after everything that has happened back inside the church.

"I'm going to have to take you to weddings more often," I say.
"Come on let's go," Larissa Snowe says.

We walk away from the church, from the guests and leave the wedding to its own devices.

Gordon's Breakfast - 35

2006-12-23T10:49:00.000Z

We definitely sneak in. We don't as Larissa Snowe said we would walk in with our heads held high because as soon as we're through the door of the church we are ducking our heads down and bending our knees in the hope that no one will see us and apart from a few small children I don't think anyone really notices our entrance.

My first thought is WOW. There are a lot of people here. I'm personally surprised I hadn't expected this many, but this is an occasion where both sides of the family have pulled out all the stops and turned up on mass. It's like everyone has thrown their hands in the air and gone "finally for my daughter/son a wedding" – of course they all turned Jewish also, but that can only be a good thing. There must be at least 80 to 100 people. I can see Susan very clearly flanked by her father. She's dressed in a sleeveless knee length dress, which I know shouldn't be a surprise, but I can't remember the last time I saw Susan in a dress so it gets to me anyway. Even from back here she looks great.

I can see Alison sitting with Johnny and my sister three rows from the front thankfully like the rest of the congregation they are blissfully unaware of the creeping entrance made by Larissa Snowe and I.

"There's a lot more people here than I thought," I whisper to Larissa Snowe.
"Mmm, I was expecting a small huddle, this is a proper wedding."

I think it's when Larissa Snowe says that (it's a proper wedding) that maybe it finally hits me and becomes real. It wasn't real before. We were just messing around with all the craziness, but now with all the people and girl dressed in white this is serious, genuine and grown-up. I come to an immediate decision.

"We can not possibly do this. It's an incredible stupid idea – do you mind if I say that again?"

Larissa Snowe smiles as if this was perfectly all right and really quite expected.

"Don't be silly."
"Silly?"
"Yes, you'll regret this forever if you don't go through with it."

And I'm trying to think, am I going to regret this forever if I don't do this? Before I felt pretty certain (of something at least), but now I just feel an overpowering sense of nerves and fear. My whole body is trembling.

So we sit there and we sing some hymns and then it all happens really quickly, which is weird as my memory of weddings is that they take forever to get anywhere and I'm always sitting there thinking "come on marry them already". But it isn't like that this is a fast moving pacy and brisk event. The priest is already starting to do his business and he's talking those words that are so oddly familiar to us all.

"Dearly beloved we are gathered here today to celebrate one of life's greatest moments, to give recognition to the worth and beauty of love, and to add our best wishes to the words which shall unite Adam and Susan in marriage. Should there be anyone who has cause why this couple should not be united in marriage, they must speak now or forever hold their peace?"

At this point I'm sure, just as everyone else does inside the church, I hold my breath and pray no one says anything, except I don't hold the air inside my lungs for very long as Larissa Snowe elbows me sharply in the ribs forcing me to cough and splutter.

"Go on then," she whispers, "now, go on."
"Go on?"
"Yes, this is your moment."
"I don't want a moment."
"Yes you do."
"No way, this is a totally insane idea. Look! This is over look at them? There is no way…"

But I don't get a chance to finish as Larissa Snowe suddenly thinks she is in back at school as she is raising her hand in the air about to impress another teacher with the erudite prowess of her mind. God that girl has long arms I bet she always got noticed.

"We have something to say," and Larissa Snowe 's voice booms down the long stony church.

Then there's that almost indescribable sound from the congregation. That mix, that single voice, a soft wave of hush, murmur, alarm and surprise all rolled into one. I am pulling at Larissa Snowe's sleeve, but to no avail. I don't believe it.

"Since when did we have something to say? We are not a we, you dumped me three times.
"Get of with it," Larissa Snowe says shaking me off.

Get on with it? And before I have even vaguely thought through what I need to do, my voice too sounds like it too is booming down the aisle of the church. I think even god might be able to hear us.

"We don't have something to say, I have something to say!" and I seem to be grinning like an idiot.
"Well, I thought you weren't going to say anything," Larissa Snowe says indignantly.
"I wasn't," I say.
"I know that's why I said something."

Our conversation draws titters of laughter from around the church snapping Larissa Snowe and I back to reality. It has also given Susan a chance to recover at the shock of voice interrupting her big day.

"What on earth are you doing? This is my wedding!" she shrieks, "I can't believe you've bought your girlfriend to my wedding and taken the opportunity to ruin it."

"I'm not his girlfriend," Larissa Snowe says.
"What?" shouts a furious Susan.
"She's right we're just friends," I say in support of Larissa Snowe.
"That's not what I heard," Susan shouts back.
"Oh and what have you heard," Larissa Snowe lobs back.
"Larissa?" I say in reprimand, "do you mind?"
"What?"

But before I can get another word in, Susan yells back.

"I heard you were sleeping with each other!"

"That's completely not true," Larissa Snowe says.
"Larissa!" I say trying to stop her, but its too late.
"We only did it just once."

Gordon's Breakfast - 34

2006-12-11T16:04:00.000Z

Total victory! What can I say, I know therapy isn't meant to be about winning or losing, but I can't help myself I seemed to have stunned Laura into silence. I am definitely making progress.

I've been talking with my therapist about Larissa's crazy plan and Laura really doesn't know what to say. I know this as for the first time she is lost for words. I managed to completely wrong foot her. My only worry is that I'm not entirely convinced that is a good thing, maybe it's best to just gloss over that.

To be honest I'm not all that surprised really, I mean Larissa's plan is pretty crazy, which is odd for such a sensible girl and I suppose it just goes to show how versatile she is.

"I have to say Gordon that I'm very surprised it's…"
"I know it's incredibly rash."
"Rash is a very good way of describing it."
"Thanks, I think Susan might appreciate it."
"Have you," and she is turning her hand over, "thought this through?"
"You know to be honest, not really. I'm worried I might be over analysing, besides the plan is clearly so crazy that if you think about it for too long…well, that's pretty much why I decided not to think it through."
"Mmm, I see. Have you discussed this with your friends?"
"Not as such."
"Not as such?"
"Well, more like not at all. I'm worried that they might think it's really not the best idea in the world and word could just get out."
"But you think Susan might appreciate it?"
"Definitely."
"You seem very sure about that?"
"Really?"
"Yes, you do. Why is that Gordon?"
"Well to be honest, I think it's more down to having failed to really think this through properly."
"Do you think Larissa has thought it through?"
"You know I'm not sure she has, but she gives a really good impression of someone who has, which I think might have inspired some dumb confidence on my part."
"But you're sure Susan will appreciate your efforts?"
"Actually the more you say the word 'appreciate', I'm actually less and less sure that is the case."
"So why are you doing it?"

That's really the best question Laura has asked me in a while. Why questions are always the best. They always go straight to the heart of the matter, which being strictly honest has never exactly been my strong point, and is always an issue that I cannot help at least trying to avoid. I just can't seem to help myself.

"That's a really good question, Laura."
"And that is not such a good answer Gordon."
"True."
"Let me ask you again," Laura says even softer than before, "So why are you doing it?"

Okay, okay, okay. I can do this, I can, and all I need to do is answer the question Okay, so not just answer, but answer truthfully.

"I think if I don't I might regret it quite a lot. What do you think?" I say grinning.

I know Laura never answers me, never gives me her opinion as such, but I couldn't. help myself anyway.

"I think you seem to have already made up your mind."

I nod, she's right, I think I have.

When I get home I have no sooner walked through the door when Larissa is on the phone.

"I just wanted to see how you were doing and that you hadn't had any second thoughts about my exciting plan to help you win back Susan.

"Now its your exciting plan?"
"Oh well it is exciting, isn't it?"
"That's one way of looking at it. Terrifying and kind of crazy is the other. Besides, win back, might be putting it a little strongly as I never really had her in the first place."
"Good point, but really Gordon, I think that was just a technicality."
"A technicality? Are you sure."
"Oh quite sure."

Damn, for a second there I thought I had an iron clad excuse for getting out of Larissa's crazy plan. No such luck, I swear me and crazy plans are never torn asunder.

"Are you sure you're not having any second thoughts?"
"Second thoughts? I have so many second thoughts that I have third, fourth and fifth thoughts."
"Oh that's to be expected."
"Glad to hear it, there is one thing."
"Yes?"
"The wedding?"
"What about it?"
"Well you know we're not invited, right?"
"Oh that's just a technicality."
"Another one?"
"Yes, of course, people always turn up at weddings uninvited. Its expected."
"Yes, but they are usually people no one knows. I'm a marked man."
"I know its terribly exciting."

Boy oh boy. To be honest I'm kind of thinking that really Larrisa Snowe crazy plan won't happen. That instead we'll get there and…well I'm not sure what, but it just won't come off. That at the vital moment someone, namely me, will falter, have a drastic change of heart and come to his senses. I'm pretty convinced this will be the outcome as otherwise I would be insane with nervous worry right now instead of being quite laid back and just getting on with what I need to get on with.

"Don't worry I'm with you 100% on this," I tell Larissa Snowe.
"Gordon it's the other way around I'm with you 100%. Don't worry, I'm not going to give you a hard time I just wanted to make sure you got your one suit dry cleaned."
"Hey I have more than one suit," I protest.
"Gordon, you know that jackets you bought a decade ago from charity shops don't count. It's really time you owned two suits, you know that don't you?"
"I guess I do now, okay what can I say it is sadly true and I feel diminished, you know in a sad comical way. I own one decent suit, but I don't necessarily think this is a crime."
"It is a bit of a crime."
"You mean I'm a suit crime committer who would have guessed it would come to this."
"But seriously tell me one more time you're not having second thoughts?" Larissa Snowe asks.
"Actually zero thoughts, I've really tried and have been pretty successfully in my effort not to think about it at all."

Gosh I wish I hadn't said that. I think I'm one of those people who failed to grasp the concept that certain thoughts need not necessarily be converted into sentences and expressed verbally.

"You know that's the mental equivalent of sticking your head in the sand?"
"I know genius isn't it?"
"Well it certainly explains a lot. Look I have to go. I have a meeting, what do you have planned?"
"Oh I'm going to have breakfast."
"Arrrgh, Gordon' breakfast, almost midday, not quite what one would expect."
"Hey, don't knock it. I like the idea that breakfast and lunch merge into one. As it means I can have serial at lunchtime, which is kind of cool. I'm a late breakfast kind of person, what can I say?"
"No, you're just late generally. I'll see you on Saturday. And if you feel yourself starting to panic call me."
"Before you go, what is our exact plan of attack, you know, just so I have something to think about for the rest of the week."
"Oh I thought we would walk in with our heads held high."
"With our heads held high? Are you sure?"
"I thought so, unless you have an alternative?"
I think about it for a second, then it strikes me I have a much better plan.
"I thought we could sneak into the back of the church. You know, all sneaky and stealthy like? It seems pretty appropriate."
"Oh, no we can't sneak. This is definitely not a moment for sneakers."
"Really, as I have to tell you that I am so much better at sneaking around than I am at holding my head high."

Gordon's Breakfast - 33

2006-12-05T11:34:00.000Z

Alison I have been celebrating. I should just say drinking. We have been sitting around drinking wine all evening and to be honest we're a little tipsy, but for a very good cause: it's the first time that Alison has had anything to drink since Caitlin was born. She keeps saying throughout the evening that she feels really rather irresponsible, but I merely encourage her. To be honest I think I'm a bad influence.

Tellingly Alison has insisted we dance and I have heartily acceded to her suggestion. We've been jumping around her sitting room to one track after another, to the Foo Fighters, The Strokes and Feeder. And when the right song has come on we aren't just dancing we've been shouting out the words at the top of our voices like we're in our own private sitting room club.

"I love this song – ‘and there's no new religion and there's no real solution' – and I've always felt that if you can't move around your own house to music then there is something seriously wrong. A little dancing is good for you, right?" asks Alison who is almost pogoing to Feeder.

"Absolutely and I am quite happy to go on record and admit to jumping around the flat to the odd track, but only – and I think this is an important distinction – when it's really too late and I have had too much. Or otherwise when it is exactly like to night."

"...Suffer the breaks, you know I still remember it, keeps burning away, I know that you may take a while, to come back around..."

And then we reprise. Alison is really hollering out the words to this one, shaking her head and belting them out. Suffer the breaks? Yeah, I think we still remember it.

After tiring of the dancing we flop down again and Alison idly leafs through a magazine on the couch and then quickly declares I'm failing after scanning a quiz of things not to do once your in your thirties.

"Gordie you're falling desperately short."
"I am? Damn those lists."
"Afraid so. I've tested you and, really, it's disappointing."
"You're drunk I want a recount."
"Funny, so are you, no recount."
"Okay so how am I failing exactly? Hit me with it."
"You buy wine that costs less than £7 a bottle. That, Gordie, is a terrible crime."
"I can't believe you've picked on that one. I brought champagne to your Christmas party!?"
"You know, I meant to say at the time I thought that was a little ostentatious."
"You didn't say that when you were drinking it."
"Really? Mmm, anyway, you own a watch that definitely cost less than £100 -- fashion faux pas extraordinaire. In fact, you have a teenager's watch. What is that a Timex junior diver's watch?"
"Okay, guilty what can I say I almost never wear a watch any how. Isn't that why they put the time on phones?"
"Cheapskate, what else? Oh, own an item of clothing by Kangol. Guilty again."
"I have a T-shirt, not a stupid hat that I wear backwards or forwards. That seems unfair. I know I'm not Samuel L Jackson and I realise that only black people look cool when they do this."
"Unfair? Repeat after me 'I am not a teenager'. Your Kangol days are over. Oh, I have you on the last two as well. Own a plant that lived longer than 28 days? Come on, your place looks like the CIA has been experimenting with Agent Orange. All your plants are dying."
"OK, guilty, but I think that's only a minor misdemeanour, what else have you got?"
"Right, here goes, deep breath... Still believe that there is someone better out there? So guilty you've dumped more people than a dumpster truck, which is a lot of dumping. You're industrial about it."
"You mean it's not acceptable to believe in this any more?"
"Please tell me you're kidding?"
"I'm kidding?"
"That's kind of sweet, but..."
"Yeah, I know kind of sweet, but sad."
"You've worked your way through the alphabet."
"Hey, I'm not the only one."
"True, but it seems other people realised way before you that ‘S' was the letter you should have stopped at before careering on down the track."
"Oh that's hilarious, no really, just so hilarious ."
"I liked it. So what's your plan?"

I eye Alison for a moment and think of telling her Larissa Snowe's crazy plan. I want to, but I don't simply because it's the craziest plan ever. Seriously, I mean really crazy, like lock me up and throw away the key crazy and crazy like you have to be insane to try this.

Instead, I tell her about the really rather nice lunch I had with Larissa Snowe and just omit the craziness that came out of it and the craziness that is to come.

"You two are spending a lot of time together, I'm beginning to think you're the one they all talk about?" Alison says.
"Which one's that?"
"The three times dumped sucker for punishment."
"Oh that one. That's me, I have the t-shirt, and I tell you soon other people will want that t-shirt as well, it will be like a cult t-shirt and I reckon a movie can not be far behind, besides its different now, we're friends. We work better."
"Mmm you seem to work rather well."
"Just friends, no funny stuff, well some funny stuff, but that's just my jokes falling short of the mark. You know how it is."
"Oh, I know how it is," Alison says.
"No I told you, its not like that."
"But haven't you two been...you know."
"No...well once...oh."

And I totally regret the words the instant they are out of my mouth, it just comes so naturally as I always tell Alison pretty much everything. I'm such a fool when it comes to full disclosure.

"Oh you naughty boy."
"Hey, I'm so far from naughty, I'm as straight laced as they come."
"So much for good friends."
"Hey, it was a one off."
"They’re all one offs."
"Well this was definitely a one off and to be honest I'm pretty sure it was a charity thing on her part."
"Oh don’t say that, I'm sure it wasn't charity, just committed giving," she sniggers.
"Quite, but seriously, I don't think it would have happened if she hadn't been going away."
"Maybe she'll dump you again, you know for old time's sake."
"Oh you're funny."
"Why thank you, you’d have to get new t-shirts printed."
"Look while we're on the subject..."
"Of t-shirts?"
"Not quite."
"I didn’t think so. That's a loose conversational link," Alison says, "I saw that coming a mile away. Probably further."
"I know why can I say? I love my loose conversational links."
"Oh dear, this sounds ominous."
"You know its not, but I kind of think we should have that talk."
"You do? That talk?"
"Yeah 'that talk', I kind of feel that we've been putting it off for months and well, to be honest, I feel pretty bad about that."
"Have you consulted people about this?"
"I have, and widely, market research, pollsters the works."
"Oh really do tell."
"Well I spoke to Johnny and Larissa Snowe, who were in agreement, and my sister for a second female opinion."

Alison laughs at the mention of my sister exactly like she knows something that I already know (it was pointless).

"And what did Sara say?"
"Yeah Sara, well, she just rolled her eyes and blew smoke at me. But you already knew that and besides she does that a lot anyway, so no biggie. Although really is sometimes wish she wouldn't blow smoke just so much."
"And Johnny?"
"Are you sure you want to know?"
"Oh absolutely, if we're going to have 'that talk'."
"Well he said, rather you than me, which was..."
"Honest. It's such a guy thing to say, but you still bought it up?"
"Yeah, I mean I think its one of those things you need to talk about."
"You sound like you read the manual."
"There's a manual? Damn, no body said there was a manual."
"No there's not a manual, which by-the-way is a good thing."
"So do you want to talk?"
"No."
"No?"
"No, not really."
"But it's been months."
"I know, and you know what it is?"
"I wish I did."
"Well I just don't have anything to say about Paul. I really don't."
"Look, Ali, I just worry that we never talk about it and we always avoid it like some piece of unhistory."
"It is unhistory and we don't have to talk about it."
"Alison..."
"You never call me Alison, you know that don't you?"
"True, but its such a big thing."
"That's sweet, and you're right it is a big thing. But it's been almost seven months and occasionally it makes me cry when I'm on my own, which is when you're meant to, and it can't last long. Besides, I have Caitlin. And all you. I'm sure it would be different if it wasn't like that, but I'm lucky and it is like that."
"Okay, I'm drunk, but you have me convinced. That can't be a good thing."
"You're a pushover, but you knew that. I'll convince you when you're sober if you like. The funny thing is that everyone expects you to fall apart and sometimes I think maybe I should just fall apart for a few days. Just to set people's mind at rest. Of course, I'd have to make sure as many people as possible were present so no one missed it, but I think that can be arranged."
"What would you do stay in bed and drink gin?"
"Nice idea, but I was rather thinking one quick streak down the street just to get everyone's attention. I'd shout something religious like 'Jesus is here, he's here!' over and over just to make it really convincing and act a little manic and shaky."
"Classy."
"Well if you're going to do something..."

Gordon's Breakfast - 32

2006-11-24T15:50:00.000Z

Larissa Snowe Snowe and I are having lunch in Zillis in Soho as she has plans she wants to talk about for the weekend although right now we are talking about the impending wedding of Susan and Adam. Somehow, she finds the whole thing totally fascinating. She's like Spock.

"Oh, but it is. It's so modular."
"Modular? Who talks like that?"
"I do, modular is a very good word."
"Yes, but good for what?"

I have no idea what she's talking about, I tell her this and I think about mentioning the Spock thing, but hold off as I know that it will drive her nuts and not in a good way. It's not the logic part of Spock mind you, but the part about her ears. She has a thing about them. To be honest I have thing about them as well, but sadly we don't have the same thing about them. I think they are cute, but Larissa Snowe Snowe is under the impression that they make her look pixie'ish.

I tried to tell her once that while they might look pixie'ish, but in a really good kind of Liv Tyler way. Not a good move as Larissa Snowe is a total pedant and so has no trouble in punishing people like me who are more dilettante than pedant.

"Liv Typler played an elf in the Lord of the Rings and that is a different thing entirely from a pixie."

Who would have guessed?

"Modular? Its like a model aeroplane kit. It snaps together really quickly even though at first get it you think it will take forever. That's what their relationship is like."
"They're like a model aeroplane kit? Is that jet or prop driven?"
"I'm not sure it matters, lets say prop."
"I'm joking, the point is its totally clear that you have never built model plane kits. Luckily being a bloke I have built hundreds."
"Well it would have been strange if I had, wouldn't it?"
"True, but if you do I could give you tips."
"What ever happens to all those planes you boys build? I wonder as I've never seen any."
"That's very true, they all disappear it sometimes seemed that as a child I did nothing else, but glue those kits together and despite years of gluing I have not one single piece of plastic left for my troubles. Not even my very favourite Battle of Britain pride and glory RAF Spitfire that I painted and loved and hung from my ceiling until I was.. .well for a while at least.
"Oh that's terribly sweet, but maybe a little sad as well. I bet you were a spoddy and not in any way cool kid."
"That's harsh but true."
"Anyway we've wandered, modular."
"Yes, and that's what I was going to say model plane kits do not snap together really quickly. They take forever and there's always something wrong with them."

Larissa Snowe Snowe smiles at this and sips her wine.

"Maybe it was just the way you made them."
"Hey what are you suggesting?"
"Oh, nothing, just that everyone has their approach."
"And what's wrong with my approach?"

Larissa Snowe Snowe shrugs, still smiling, but doesn't say anything.

"Come on spit it out?"

This makes Larissa Snowe Snowe laugh.

"Oh you're such a charmer," she says laughing.
"You know I'm sure you never used to laugh at such obviously poor and really quite rubbish double-entendres, what gives?"
"Oh I thought that was rather good," she says, "anyway are you suggesting I'm prudish?"
"Clearly not your style has become much more relaxed. Now tell me."
"Okay, well your approach is not always the most mature."
"Damn I knew I shouldn't have slept with you again," I say.

This just makes Larissa Snowe Snowe laugh again.

"It's not what you said at the time," she says guffawing again.

I have no idea what's got into her, some people, I tell you.

After munching away on some mange tout, Larissa Snowe says, "You should do something, be bold."

I roll my eyes.

"Be bold? Oh right, no problem, I'm on it."
"Seriously."
"Yeah, and seriously, I'm on it."
"No come on, do something, I know you want to and you know you want to and I think that it would be criminal if you did nothing. Please, I want to do something as well and I have a plan."
"You want to do something and you have a plan? What's got into you today?"
"Oh I don't know I'm just feeling concerned about your future. So what are you going to do?"

Good question. For a start I should come clean and admit it's the truth. I mean I think that might help. It's been obvious from the start. It's true I'm always thinking and I really wish I could stop thinking "well she's quite nice, but I'm sure I will meet someone else who's is, well you know, perfect? It's sad I know. But I can't be the only person in the Western world who thinks that way. While Susan and I were friends I could look at her and think I really like Susan…but. There's always a but. Even when she was going out with people I never thought the relationships would last or go the distance. I guess if I'm honest, and I hate to admit it, I saw Susan as my backup plan. You know in that kind of way that you hope you will never have to use the back up plan, but its always nice to know that it's there in case you do. But I waited too long and my back-up plan is getting married. This makes things difficult as I no longer have a backup plan let alone a plan. Susan is no longer my back up plan, but my plan and my unattainable plan at that. So really no kind of plan at all.

"It's a bit late in the day," I say.
"It's only as late as you make it," Larissa Snowe tuts at me.
"It's a good job your going to Barcelona as your sunny unbridled optimism and enthusiasm will help you fit right in. It'll be a beautiful moment for all concerned."

Larissa Snowe grins at me and takes my sarcasm in her stride.

"You could do with some unbridled optimism – that way you wouldn't be in the situation you're in now. So if you're not going to do anything then kindly stop acting like a lovesick teenager."
"Hey!"
"Yes?"
"Okay, okay, so what's your plan."

This just brings a huge smile to Larissa Snowe Snowe's face, I think somehow I just made her day. And the plan? Don't ask me I have no idea and nothing, but a bad feeling.

Gordon's Breakfast - 31

2006-11-16T17:53:00.000Z

Alison has me really worried, I'd always thought she was convinced they would split up and that we were at one on the issue of Adam and Susan, you know more or less. She's an expert on the longevity of (other people's) relationships.

"I think I might."
"But that's just..."
"Just?"
"Oh I don't I don't know, wrong."
"Wrong? Hmm, wrong like what?"
"Like Ewoks or something like that. Wrong on a big scale."
"Ewoks? You've lost me. Maybe it’s the Stars Wars thing."
"Ewoks are wrong everyone knows that. You don't have to like Star Wars to know that."
"Well sorry, don't get annoyed with me about small fury creatures in a science fiction movie that has nothing to do with Susan and Adam."
"It has everything to do with them as I was under the impression that you gave the Adam and Susan coupling a very small chance of success – see small?"
"Small? That is I think stretching a point."
"I'm a journalist stretching things is my job, a point? No problem, I can stretch that. The truth? Just as easy. Anyway, you said."
"Well that was my initial feeling, but..."
"Your initial feeling?"
"Yes, I had an initial feeling...I changed my mind."
"But you can't."
"Gordon, I'm a girl, of course I can, shoes, clothes or my mind. And at any point. Can you stretch that?"
"But I'm convinced they'll split up."
"No, you desperately want them to split up, which is not the same thing at all. Look...errrm..."

And then there's this thunderous, punctuated, pregnant pause that tells me that news, which can only be ominous nature, is most certainly coming my way. I hate ominous more than just about anything. It clear that Alison has been holding out on me, I don't believe it.

"You've been holding out on me? I can tell."
"I haven't exactly been holding out on you."
"What do you mean nit exactly?"
"Okay, I do mean exactly. Oh look there isn't another way of putting it, there's something I've been holding off telling you."

I look over at Alison who has that look on her face that people have when they're about to tell you really really bad news ("what do you mean I'm dead?"). Her mouth is twisted to one side and she's biting her lip.

"I thought we'd pretty much used up our quota of bad news for the decade."

Alison smiles weakly at me.

"Well, it depend, which way you look at it, not everyone concerned, would necessarily consider it to be bad news."
"Hang on let me get this straight you've been holding off on me, but it's not necessarily bad news?"

Alison nods.

"Not necessarily. That about sums it up."

"Okay, so what's the news?"
"Will you take Caitlin for me? My arms are tired."

And before I get a chance to say ‘well can't you tell me first' Alison is up and off the big couch and stepping towards me. I take baby Caitlin from her mother's arms and all she does is gurgles and flexes her tiny hands as she comes to rest on my shoulder.

"Not that I'm cynical, but I know why you did that."
"Not that you're cynical."
"Look, I thought we were agreed my role around here is to provide much needed sarcasm."
"Among other things."
"Okay, among other things."
"So why did I give you Caitlin, shatter my illusions?"
"It's like an inhibitor. It's a baby inhibitor, you know I can't move on jump up and down in rage or act in a general pathetic way with a baby in my arms."

Alison blushes me a large smile.

"Okay you saw straight through me, I'm disappointed. I always prided myself on being ever so not entirely transparent, but at least I know now that you will not raise your voice when I tell you that..."
"Hang on a second, not so fast. Back up a bit."
"I thought you wanted me to tell you?"
"Oh, I do."
"You do? Are you sure?"
"Yes quite sure, but I just want some indication of the type of news we're dealing with here so I can prepare myself."
"Prepare yourself. It's not an Olympic event."
"You say that."
"I do."
"Okay, you're not going to like it."
"Quite how much am I not going to like it?"
"Well on a scale of one to ten I think you might break the needle completely and utter and beyond repair."

Break the needle? I start wracking my brains, but nothing.

"Do I have cancer? It's that bad."
"Gordie, don't."
"Sorry, okay, let me have it."
"I will, but promise you won't do anything stupid?"
"I'd like to, but really that's not strictly possible. You know my track record."
"True, take a deep breath and watch Caitlin."
"Okay, deep breath," I say.
"Adam and Susan are getting married."

And I'm looking at Alison and it's like I'm still waiting for her to tell me what she's going to tell me as what she just said simply didn't register. The information passed straight through my brain without touching the sides. I give a little shake of my head. To be honest this has been happening to be rather a lot of late.

"Could you say that again?"
"Gordon, you heard what I said."

When Alison says that it's like the trigger and then I get it.

"OMG."
"Indeed."
"You're not kidding are you?"
"You had your chance," Alison says.
"My chance? You’re all feeling."
"You did."

Alison is right. I did have my chance.

"So you can't really complain now that she's speeded ahead. You should have seen it coming. You know as well as, no better than, anyone else that it's what women in their 30s do. They don't wait, they do fast shock weddings, which are, well, a shock."
"Consider me shocked."
"Okay, Mr Shocked."
"Do you remember Michelle Shocked?"
"Mmm, sort of. That was a long time ago wasn't it?"
"Yeah, it was. Whatever happened to her? Anchorage Alaska?"
"Now you mention it yes, and you might want to consider that as a destination."
"Really?"
"Yes, the question is do you want to hear the really bad news?"
"Oh come on, you're joking, right? The really bad news?"
"Yes, well again, some people might not see it as such."
"It's okay I already know what the really bad news is."

Alison looks at me sceptically.

"You do?"
"Yeah, not only is she going to marry the guy, but she's going to marry the guy really quickly, right?"
"I'm impressed, how did you guess?"
"Susan's brother is getting married in November, she's desperate to beat him down the aisle. She's crazy. Someone should tell Adam. Second thoughts..."
"You know far too much about Susan."
"Not anymore," I say, "besides it's just like Hayley, she did exactly the same thing."

Hayley was a friend of ours who last year sprung a surprise wedding on us. I used to think that weddings took forever to put together, but not anymore. Now you can throw weddings together literally at a moment's notice. It's instant matrimony the best friend of biological romance.

I can't believe Adam dropped down on one knee and proposed. He's never even spoken about marriage before. Maybe that's telling, men never talk about marriage even my friends who are married never talked about marriage if you see what I mean.

Adam is so sneaky. He was planning this all along. Date Susan and then marry her. OMG, well you just listen to me? I sound like...oh I don't even know who I sound like, but I know that I don't like what I'm hearing very much.

"So when do they do it? What one, two, three weeks? No, don't tell me September 8."
"Oh, that's scary, Susan would be impressed. I'm trying to remember now if you remember my birthday as well."
"Funny, you know I do."
"But only because its five days after yours."
"Hey, can I help that? So are you going?"
"Oh Gordie, I can't not go."
"You could stay away in solidarity."
"What kind of solidarity would that be exactly?"
"The kind that's against poor matrimonial choices, obviously."
"Oh, but Susan would say? Poor matrimonial choices, it really not much in the way of solidarity."
"Susan would say better poor choice than no choice, she's the most pragmatic person I know."
"Oh, I rest my case."
"You don't have a case."

Alison shrugs and smiles my way.

"You could gate crash."

I shake my head at Alison in puzzlement, is she insane?

"Why would I gate crash Susan's wedding?"
"No I idea, I'm just making suggestions."
"Suggestions? I'm lost. When did she tell you?"
"Oh don't ask me that."
"Don't ask you? Jeez, you've known for ages."
"Only last week, but don't have a go at me, I knew how you would react. I was just waiting for the right moment. Anyway, you wouldn't have done anything about it."
"True, but I like to be kept informed about these things. Local news is important. I don't suppose she mentioned me, did she?"
"You'll be pleased to know that Susan always mentions you when we speak," Alison says smiling.
"Really?" I say.

Did someone say gullible? I have huge grin on my face and hopeless amounts of misplaced puppy dog enthusiasm. Alison laughs.

"This week she said you were the biggest, and I quote ‘twat' she had ever met, for ignoring her. And you know she's right."

I simply humph at this and at Alison's minor subterfuge that has shown me up to be the giant sized sucker that I am.

"Well she asked for it," I say.

If I wasn't holding Caitlin I would be folding my arms to drive home this point. Alison smiles again and says, "Oh of course she did," and then gives me a big cheesy grin to drive her point home.

Gordon's Breakfast - 30

2006-11-09T17:20:00.000Z

I'm so broke right now it's just not true. I'm telling this to Alison who has just made us lunch and is burping Caitlin who is now three weeks old. She's incredibly cute, small and wobbly, but don't ask me any technical questions. I have no idea what burping is. I can do the easy stuff and yesterday I held her for more than an hour and a half and she hardly made a sound. I think she's the sleepiest baby in the Western world.

"You realise you've been sitting there for almost 90 minutes don't you?" Alison says.

"It's worrying I think your child might be sucking the energy out of my body. I've totally lost the will to move."
"Oh, you lost that a long time ago."
"That's true, but I think at least I've found a justification for not moving now."
"I'm pretty sure that it will return."
"That's like a major relief, when do you think that might be? I'm hoping before she's a teenager."
"Oh long before that."
"Phew."
"I'd imagine it will happen when she's sick on your shoulder."
"You had to bring sick into it didn't you?"
"Sick a my world."
"No one tells you there is going to be so much sick."
"I know it’s like being bushwhacked."
"Maybe sickwhacked?"
"I don't think so. I didn't think the sick would come to much later."
"Ah those teenage slash twenty something years, they were the best."
"You were always throwing up."
"I contest that."
"Contest all you like, we know the truth."
"Which is why I drink in moderation."
"As if."
"Thanks."
"Don't mention it."

And of course Alison was right because as soon as I fed Caitlin she made huge long dribbles on the shoulder of my t-shirt.

"That was my best T-shirt."
"Gordie, people don't have 'best' t-shirts."
"I do."
"How can you? It's white, you bought in Top Man. It costs £5."
"True, but unlike other white t-shirts I have this one is actually white, you know, rather than off white or non white."
"Really though people don't have best t-shirts unless they cost more than £5 or are Iron Maiden tour t-shirts from the late 1970s."
"I don’t have any of those."
"There you go. Paul had an Iron Maiden t-shirt, which I always thought was funny for a lawyer."
"You're right I'm think he should have had a Smith T-shirt. Heavens knows I'm miserable now."
"Mmm, maybe."
"So are we talking about Paul now?"
"No we're most definitely not. We were talking about your lack of cash, which you know is entirely your own fault."
"That is so harsh."

I don't know how she can even think of saying that when it is so clear that this is Susan's fault. I swear that girl is the bitch from hell. If not hell then North London at the very least.

"Oh Gord you know it's your own fault. So don't try and pass the buck."
"Oh come on," I appeal, "besides I'm a top buck passer."
"Come on nothing, if you hadn't refused to speak to Susan, blanked her, ignored her or failed to return any messages or emails none of this would have happened."
"Oh come on, that's so..."
"Oh come on nothing, Suze is hardly going to keep recommending you for lots of cushy work. You shot the cash cow."
"That's unfair, I did not shoot the cash cow. The cash cow started dating Adam. It seems unfair that I should have to suffer because the cow has poor taste in men."

I'm so stupid when it comes to cash cows. It's all true. As good as my word I completely blanked Susan after she an Adam started dating. I just got worse and worse graduating from being not very communicative to being absolutely non-communicative. To be honest it is not as much as a journey as you may imagine.

I then realised that I did far too much work for Mademoiselle magazine, which has now come to an abrupt halt. I have other work, but just nothing so regular. Susan has paid me back for snubbing her, which she has every right to do so. But I'm not going to change my mind and as far as I'm concerned I have nothing to say to her and considerably less to say to Adam. I mean what a total git. I still can't believe they're still together, which in case you had been wondering they very much are.

"Susan made so much effort with you. You're like a difficult child, but bigger and less energetic."
"I'm very energetic. I'm known for my energy and super fast walking, everyone says so."
"Okay a difficult energetic child. Are you happy?"
"Yes, labels are important."
"Well I'm glad we sorted that. You've got exactly what you asked for and just what you deserved."
"Gee thanks."
"No sulking, you might spark post natal depression," Alison says smiling.

Again this is all true Susan did make a lot of effort when she first started going out with Adam. She called me and left messages, but the great thing about modern technology is that it makes it really easy to live in splendid telephone screened isolation. Eventually the flow of messages became a trickle and then it stopped completely and after about six weeks communication between the two of us had ground to a halt.

I think at one stage, in the beginning at least, I was genuinely thinking that I was only going to let it slide so far (okay, lets be honest here, until they'd split up), but the thing is when you're indignantly in full ignoring mode swing it feels pretty good and you're really not in a mood to compromise or back down.

And I'm sad about that, I really am, but Adam? I just, and I may have said this a few times before, don't believe it, and unless she's had a sudden conversion on the road to Damascus, I don't buy it either. It's been almost six months.

"Okay I asked for it."
"I know you did. You don't have to tell me."
"Okay, but."
"Gordie there is no but."
"But…"
"No but. You got what you deserved."
"Have you been taking harshness classes from Susan?"
"Gordie?"
"Okay, okay, so I got just what I deserved, but you're supposed to be my friend."
"I am."
"Okay so how about a little sympathy? I'm in need of comfort and sympathy."
"Oh you know I'm sympathetic, but I think you would get rather more sympathy if you made up with Susan."
"You know I think we've had this conversation a few times before."
"I know and I'm still waiting for you to agree an apology, I want us all to be friends so we can all get together again. It's so tiresome having to have always see you and Susan separately. You're a double act."
"You know I think you're thinking of Susan and Adam, besides I was always more suited to a solo career."
"Adam and Susan are not a double act."
"Really? You should tell Susan maybe she'll dump him."
"Would that make you happy?"
"Err, now you mention it."
"You're going to have to apologise sooner or later you know."
"You know, I don't think I am. I majored in Bolshie obstinacy with honours."
"You know I love you, but you're so completely unreasonable. Gordie, face it they're not going to split up. It's not going to happen."
"You don't seriously believe that do you?"

Gordon's Breakfast - 29

2006-11-03T13:22:00.000Z

I look sideways at Larissa Snowe not quite sure what she's getting at.

"What do you mean?"
"Just that, what's on your mind."
"Nothing much," I say.
"Fair enough," Larissa says," so what did you think will happen?"
"I don't know, I thought they would patch it up, but..."
"Oh yeah, there's definitely a but in this," Larissa says.
"You're right. I don't think it's going to be the same. I mean it's not is it?"
"No I don't think it is, not for them and not for us either."
"It's weird, but foolishly..."
"Foolishly?"
"Yeah, definitely foolishly I always had this idea that we, and by that I mean you and our friends, were somehow going to be different."

Larissa Snowe nods in agreement.

"So did I. I thought that for ages we were going to be friends for a long time, have better relationships, have great well adjusted kids and see each other all the time."

I dip my head, this is exactly how it is or at least exactly how it feels it is.

"But now we're here, now we've arrived at this point, when it is time to show, to define, our differentness when we're getting married and having kids it's the same."
"I know, and how did that happen?"
"I don't know, but all this stuff that we thought we had learnt from watching our parents getting it wrong and it still isn't any different, it's exactly the same.
"Yeah like some huge self-repeating merry go round where everyone time after time until the very end of time does everything in exactly the same way."
"Exactly the same way, that's terribly depressing. Now is your chance to cheer me up."
"Like what?" I ask her.
"I don't know. Surprise me, tell me another story."

I think for a little and then something springs to mind.

"Okay, considering our theme today seems to have been events of some significance it strikes me that something else significant happened to me recently. Well a couple of things really, but they're all kind of related."

Larissa Snowe wriggles on the wall and moves a little closer.

"Oh this sounds good," she says.
"Well you'll have to be the judge of that."
"Go on then, tell me."
"This is going to sound funny, anyway, bizarrely I was in a DIY store. This is of course a telling fact in itself. As you well know, having seen my house enough, I'm still pretty new to the whole world of Homebase and B&Q and DIY in general. Previously, I've just been one of those people who laughed at their naff ads and had never set foot in a store. But anyway, I was there and I was on my way out when it happened. Standing in line in a bit of a checkout trance I was gazing around and there in front of me in one of the checkout bins was a 51 piece set of screwdrivers, which for a moment I was inexplicably attracted to buying. This has never happened to me before - I own three old screwdrivers and I have no idea where they came from. Then it hit me. Right then, or right now, I'm getting old. It's like nothing changed before and it all seems to be changing now.
"The second, and related thing, that struck me standing there was that, as you well know, having now turned 34, I'm at the very outer edges of the group most worshipped by the advertising industry - the 18 to 34 year olds and next year come November I will move out of this group completely. It's like there is this official notice as you approach 35 and the rest of your life. I've consoled myself with the fact that what is really happening is that I am moving into a secondary group of 25-40 year olds, but this isn't a real group and it's not one that anyone in advertising is really interested in. It's more of a made up group. Besides you can't focus group the 25-40 year olds. One half - the 25 year olds - will be able to tell you that Miss Dynamite was once a surprise winner of the Mercury Music Prize, beating out the hotly tipped the Streets. The other group - the 40 year olds - will be pretty much convinced that the Mercury Prize has something to do with astronomy and the space programme, and besides they don't have time to talk as the BMW estate has to be picked up from the garage and the kids? Just don't ask about them. You can see the problem can't you? It's a case of whether to go gracefully into the dark night, the one that is completely absent of fun youth culture, or to go kicking and screaming refusing to trade in street and club wear for something more sensible until 40 bears down like a ton of bricks."
"That's why I'm having this cigarette," Larissa says waving it about like a wand.
"Really? The cigarette?"
"Oh yes, I don't want to go. Not gracefully or otherwise. Not just yet."
"Who does."
"True, but there is the added thing that I don't have a boyfriend."
"I know what's that about?"
"I'm not sure, I'm definitely very good girlfriend material."
"I'll say."
"Gordon..."
"I don't, of course, mean my girlfriend."
"Thank you."
"You know I wasn't suggesting"?
"I'm just joshing with you."
"Oh the joshing and the japing, I forget that sometimes."
"Anyway, without a boyfriend it means that going into the dark night on one's own is a very unappealing proposition and really not an option."
"I know, but I guess the significance was, or the thing that struck me was that officially I was getting old. I've never thought about screwdrivers before - I mean ever, owning them or much using them - and I'd never thought about the age thing before."
"That's funny women think about it all the time."
"Really? No one tells you these things."
"Oh they should."
"Yes, I agree, I mean not even when I turned 30, or at any other time. But there in Homebase it struck me. It was weird. Then there's this whole Alison and Paul thing, there's Johnny moving back in and not to mention my sister and her bailing on the wedding. It's like suddenly this general quarters call went out and everyone is having some kind of thing."
"It's funny you should say all of this."
"How funny?"
"Oh you know so so funny, not really funny. Something sort of similar happened to me last week."
"Go on."
"Well it wasn't with screwdrivers, being a girl, and a sensible girl as you put it..."
"Are you going to let me forget that?"
"Mmm, you know, I don't think so."
"Cool, just so I know."
Larissa Snowe, smiles, "Anyway, it wasn't screwdrivers, it was tomato plants. Well, herb and tomato plants to be fair."
"Herb and tomato plants? Is that one plant or two?"
"I'm not sure, possibly one genetically altered plant, but the thing is, I only went in to buy some flowers for Alison, we were having lunch and I don't know, but I thought it would be nice. One nice expensive lunch before the birth.
"And there they were these herb and tomato plants. I was looking at them and I started thinking how great it would be if I could grow tomatoes in my garden. In a look at me, I'm self sufficient now type of way."
"That's heartbreakingly sad."
"I know, depressing, I agree. But then it hit me. I suddenly saw myself as this old woman with a house full of tomato plants."
"Full of them? That would be weird."
"I know, I hadn't been able to stop. I just kept on going back and buying more and more. One plant would never be enough."
"You'd be able to drink tomato juice all the time - I mean, if you could stomach it. On the downside, you'd probably have cats also."
"Mmm, and I'd smell really bad as well. With so many cats and plants in the flat personal hygiene wouldn't be an issue."
"Undoubtedly, and kids would throw stones at you."
"Kids are mean, but I still want to have them."
"You know I kind of got that impression."

The two of us laugh and we sit there on the wall smoking cigarettes and laughing for a little while longer until it is later and until we are feeling a little more cheery.

"Shall we have one more cigarette?" she asks.
"Wow, I don't know, they say live a little, I think that might be pushing the boat out."
"Mmm, maybe, today I say live a lot."

And she lights another cigarette, she is really going for it.

"You know what I want after all this births stuff a drink."
"Me too, maybe several."
"Hospitals should serve alcohol. It would be great."
"What you mean wet the baby's head kind of thing?"
"It's what I'm saying."
"Hospitals could make a killing."
"Literally."
"I guess people would say that really it's probably not all that healthy."
"True, but really not so far too come when those inevitable alcoholic accidents happen."
"There is that. Smoke the rest of this for me?"
"And you say you don't like me?"
"Oh I don't, but I may sleep with you again if I get really drunk tonight."
"Really?"
"Gordon try not to get your hopes up, you know nothing will happen."
"True, I know, but I'm trying to live the dream."
"Oh that's so sweet, dream on."

Gordon's Breakfast - 28

2006-10-26T20:18:00.000+01:00

After everything dies down and most of the circus of relatives has gone Larissa Snowe and I are sitting outside the hospital on a wall smoking cigarettes reflecting on what has been a weird draining kind of day.

"That was a weird day," Larissa says.
"Wasn't it."
"But I thought you did pretty well as stand in guy and bonus points for people management."
"Really? Well I always wanted to be stand in guy, but I was still expecting Paul to walk in the door. I was convinced he work come back. I just thought he had to."
"Really?"
"Absolutely, I feel like I've lost my relationship road map. I mean if it can't work for Jack and Jacqueline, or Alison and Paul, as I like to call them, what hope for the rest of us?"
"You don't really think that do you?"
I shrug, "Oh, I guess not, but that is my official response should anyone ask me."
"Unofficially?"
"Off the record?"
"I thought there wasn't any off the record? Isn't your favourite quote something about Joan Didion? One last thing to remember, journalists are always selling someone out?"
"You remembered."
"I'm memory girl, you know that."
"True."
"So?"
"Well you're right, Didion did say 'one last thing to remember, journalists are always selling someone out, but...well, you can't sell everyone out."
"No?"
"No, besides it takes too long."
"Are you trying to tell me there, that you wouldn't sell me out?"
"Sort of."
"You really are just an old romantic."
"Yeah, well cynicism will only get you so far, you know, so I heard."
"You heard right, anyway, unofficially?"
"Unofficially, I think it all comes down to the two people sitting opposite each other and what they're telling each other."
"What do you mean?"
"Well it just appears that maybe like a lot of people Alison and Paul just started assuming things about each other."
"That's rather good – the bit about the assumptions. So are you advocating absolute honesty?"
I smile, "That would be totally insane."
"That's an understatement."
"No, not totally honesty, just talking and making sure that the person sitting opposite you knows what's on your mind."
"You know what I really find having trouble believing?"
"Hit me with it Lissa."
"Well it's pretty straight forward, but Paul must have, and I mean absolutely must have known that Alison was approaching her cut off point."

It isn't a phrase I've ever heard Alison mention. Larissa Snowe on the other hand is always mentioning it when talking about other people or in relationship to friends at work. Lately I think I've heard it a lot. The cut off point is suddenly something of an issue. It started with Elspeth, one of Larissa Snowe's friends. A couple months back when Larissa Snowe called me with some ("shocking") news. Her friend Elspeth she told me was pregnant, which was shocking chiefly because at the time, or last I'd heard, Elspeth didn't have a boyfriend.

"But didn't she dump Tom like months ago?"
"She did, but they got back together about six weeks ago maybe less."
"You've been holding out on me?"
"I didn't think it would last. So technically I was just delaying."

Previously my last Elspeth update had been that she had dumped Tom (her musician boyfriend) and thrown him out because he was lousy and inattentive (forget birthdays) and generally no good (he cheated) not to mention the fact that he owed Elspeth thousands of pounds almost entirely as the result of a major cocaine habit.

"This is the same guy that when she threw him out she went to the trouble of changing the locks on her house?"
"Same guy."
"And now she's pregnant?"
"And now she's pregnant."
"That's odd he didn't really strike me as father material."
"Father material? Are you claiming expertise?"
"No not an expert on father material, I had this idea that fathers would generally teach their kids to play cricket and football and build model WWII fighter planes from plastic Airfix kits rather than educate their kids on class A drugs."
"Did your dad do that with you Gordon?"
"Now that you mention it…but I'm serious, that's my game plan."
"That's sweet, but I didn't think you had a game plan?"
"Well now that you mention it…but anyway, aren't Tom's major talent cutting and slicing white lines and strumming a few bars?"
"Elspeth used to say that he could play the piano rather beautifully. He used to play to her when they first went out. Later he would cut lines of cocaine on top. She used to think it was sexy."
"Classy, but corny, I can see that."
"He hocked it of course. He hocked everything."
"Lucky kid so why so rash on Elspeth's part? She always struck me as a rather sensible girl, which is why you two get on so well together."
"Oh you're charming aren't you? Sensible?"
"I mean that in a good way."
"As opposed to?"
"A bad way?" I offer.
"I'm sure Elspeth will be as thrilled as I am to hear you say that," Larissa Snowe said laughing.
"Well I'm going to reappraise her. She might lose her sensible girl rating. I might have to downgrade her to really rather rash girl. So what happened?"
"Elspeth reached her cut off point that's what happened."

I'm not sure if that was the first time I'd heard about the cut off point, but I think it was probably the first time that I realised that it was something of a trend. Trend is the wrong word. I think it's a generational and demographic consequence and a product of the lives and lifestyles of my contemporaries. It's something else that seems to coincide with exiting that key 18-34 year old age group. In Elspeth's case, she was almost 35, which seems for a lot of women to be their personal 'cut off point'. I guessed at the time that she cut with just a passing ("well I supposed I could do worse than Tom") thought.

"Her cut off point?"
"Elspeth decided ages ago that her cut off point was 35. She said she didn't care if she had found the right man. She always said she wanted to be pregnant by then."
"So Tom gets a call back as Elspeth is running out of time?"
"Basically, yeah. Tom gets a call back, you know how it is Gordon you can't always cast the right guy. It's a shame as he probably thinks she wants him for his music or even god forbid his personality."
"So much for true romance then."
"Welcome to true biology."
"I have to tell you that's pretty damn good - true biology, do you think you'd be able to find it in Detroit?"
"You could always look. True biology, do you think it'll catch on?"
"Oh I think it just might. True biology, a story about genes."
"Men should be told the truth."
"The truth, which one are you interested in?"
"The one about cut-off points."
"Well, you said yourself it's about knowing what's on your partner's mind. Anyway Gordie, so what's on your mind?"

Gordon's Breakfast - 27

2006-10-20T12:26:00.000+01:00

Five months later

It's like a conference and I swear that just about anyone who is anyone is here. Somehow, and please don't ask me as I really don't know, I seem to have been elected conference organiser/chairman/the guy everyone shakes hands with and slaps on the back, which is odd as that is just not me. I'm not the organiser guy on any level not at parties or gatherings and certainly on occasions like this. I’m a run of the mill mingler or wall leaner type guy at best with very few organisational skills. I need to find out who is in charge of administration – there's definitely been an error.

Alison's mother and her father are both here, as you might expect, but her older sister, an aunt and at least one surly teenage cousin are also here. The cousin is definitely here under duress. He’s not looking happy, just staring blankly into his Gameboy. Wait a minute, what am I talking about, that’s just a natural teenage state. Maybe I should give him a pep talk. A pep talk, will you listen to me? I’m not pep talk guy this whole situation is going to my head.

Most bizarre of all, and by a long shot, is my mother. I mean what’s that about? When she strolled in she told me that Alison's mother had given her a lift as if that explained everything in a perfectly satisfactory manner. Nobody said this was a spectator sport.

First of all I thought that it couldn't actually 'be' my mother, but that my eyes were playing tricks on me. I tried to convince myself that as this figure (looking like my mother) approached it was in fact some doppelganger. I mean they say everyone has one. And to me that made more sense than my mother turning up as really what on earth would she be doing here? Unless it was in fact, as earlier postulated, a little known spectator sport.

"Mother what are you doing here?"
"Ruth gave me a lift."
"Ruth?"
"Alison's mother, Gordon, surely you remember."
"Of course I do, I know what Alison's mother is called. But what are you doing here?"
"What a silly question, it’s a big day, everyone's here."
"It's a bid day? What kind of answer is that?"
"A big day, I thought I should be here."

Sara and Johnny are here as well although Johnny has no idea why.

"Moral support."
"Moral support?"
"I know, it struck me as weird as well."
"Well why did you come?"
"I don’t know, Sara wanted to come."
"I don't understand, it's like it’s a spectator sport."
"I know, pretty weird when really no one is going to do any spectating."
"True."
"Apart from you."
"Yeah, how did that happen?"
"You’re the man of the moment dude."
"I know, but how did that happen. I'm not man of the moment guy."
"You know, you don't strike me as man of the moment guy either, but you are Alison's best friend."
"I know, but Paul should be here."
"Or maybe not."
"Yeah, maybe not, I've thought about calling him and trying to track him down."
"Too late for that Gordo. This is your hour."
"But I don't want an hour, I've never wanted one. When I saw the careers officer at school, I told him that. No hours. This is definitely a mistake."
"Well maybe this will prove a pivotal moment for you."
"Pivotal schmivotal."
"That's the spirit, besides, Sara seems to think its a real laugh, you that is."
"You know, I think I was definitely adopted, there is no way we can be related."
"She thinks you'll faint."
"Why are you telling me this."
"You won't faint."
"Are you sure? I think there'll be blood."
"True, well try not to be faint. It'll be embarrassing. People will talk and your sister will never let you forget it."
"Oh boy."

Larissa Snowe is here as well, but that's understandable she had a pivotal role in driving Alison here with me in the passenger seat.

No one ever said it would be this big, that there would be so many people, I've never even seen it packed like this even on TV. Don't people have lives – their own lives that is, as opposed to other people's lives.

But you know what worries me most? It's Alison's mother. She keeps talking to me like I'm a member of the family and giving the impression that I had something to do with all of this. I think I should come out and state the obvious and tell Alison's mother "You know I had nothing to do with this right not a thing, nothing?", but I don't. She also seems to have given the aging aunt the wrong idea. Every time I see her she keeps congratulating me.

"Well done young man."
"But I didn't do anything."
"Of course not."
"No, I really didn't."
"You young people."
"But..."

She just smiles at me and congratulations. This is of course very weird, so I just smile and try to be non-committal, but I think instead of being vague I might have instead have given her the impression that it was all a piece of cake, which is of course entirely wrong as there was definitely no cake involved.

I’m not a hospital guy. I keep looking around hoping to catch someone’s eye half expecting them to give me the nod or something and admit that there’s been a mistake, but it doesn’t happen instead Alison just squeezes my hand harder and I try to keep smiling, which to be honest despite all of my bluster I’m able to do with ease as I’m feeling pretty giddy and I really can’t fight it. That’s something else I never saw myself as, Mr Giddy.

Alison has a grip of iron. It feels like every muscle in her body, bar the other ones that she kind of needs right now, is being channelled through her hand, but that’s okay. Did I forget to mention that I’m in the delivery room and everything is going on around me as all the expectant friends gather? Expectant friends? Is that even a phrase?

I’m in the delivery room holding Alison’s hand. This is it, Alison is having a baby and there isn’t any going back and there isn’t any Paul. There’s just the two of us and I’m not totally sure what I’m doing here. Did I mention that? I kept thinking Paul would come back, but then time started to get really short. First we had three months to go and then there were two months and just one and suddenly we are talking weeks and still no Paul. We were down to days and still no Paul. Hours and still no Paul, minutes and still no Paul, and the truth is there is just no Paul. I mean he isn’t going to come back.

I then started to obsess about Alison giving birth. I wasn’t manic or anything, but I just worried and I wondered if she wanted someone there and what it would be like on her own. As I guess what we’ve all tried to do is make damn sure that if one thing and one thing only is true Alison is not on her own and I don’t know if it worked, but we tried.

This could be taking that a little too far, but in the end I just had to ask her. I mean I’d been crashing at Alison’s a bit just helping out, just sitting around again like we used to do and keeping her company. It wasn’t just me there were lots of friends around, but I just hadn’t bargained for being around to the extent that I am now as I watch baby’s head eased slowly out of her mother. Her mother? Weird. My friend Alison is a mother and I am holding her hand.

It was Alison’s mother who said it first. I think it was part of her general campaign to appropriate me for the all-purpose male role in the forth-coming birth of her grand child.

"I suppose you’ll want to be there?"
"Be there?"
"Yes of course, on the day."
"Oh yes, of course, I'll be there offering all the support that I can."
"That's very good to hear, I think someone should be and you Gordon are the ideal person," Alison’s mother said.
"That's very nice of you to say so."
"Oh, I'm sure Alison would say it herself."

The ideal person? What can I say I’m only a guy and I always wanted to be an ideal person.

"I'm sure she would."
"Well you’re one of Alison’s closest friends, if not closest," Alison’s mother said.
"True," I said grinning.
"It’ll be an experience for both of you."
"Oh definitely."
"I'm sure she would love to have someone there on hand as it were, a friendly face."
"I'll be there."
"Yes with Paul gone, I'm not sure who else would have volunteered to go into the delivery room."
"The delivery room?"
"Yes of course."
"You mean as in...the delivery room?"
"Yes, when Alison gives birth. That's where you'll be."
"Right, you see, the thing is..."
"The thing is?"
"Well what I mean to say is that when you said 'be there', I was thinking...thinking for her, as a friend, you know, near-by?"

Alison's mother laughed, phew, at least she knew where I was coming from. What a relief.

"Oh, I'll say you'll be nearby. There won't be anyone nearer not in the delivery room, what a view."
"View, I guess there will be that."

Oh boy. I was certain that Alison wouldn’t want me there and so I checked, but I think I made a mistake in the phrasing of my question. I’d meant to say: "

You don’t really want anyone there with you, do you? You know when, you know, its time..."

But what I actually said was this instead.

"Do you want someone there, you know when it’s time?"
"Oh Gordon, that would be lovely, thanks for offering."
"Offering."
"Oh yes, what a great suggestion, I thought I'd be there on my own."
"Right."

It brought a big smile to Alison’s face when I said it and there really wasn't any going back after that.

"Oh you really are a friend aren’t you? Is this my reward for doing your maths homework for years on end?”
"Well Ali you know I’ve always said I never quite found away to repay you."
"Well don’t worry, after this I think we'll be even."

I asked the nurse before I went in if she had any advice or if there was anything in particular I needed to do when I was inside. The nurse just smiled like she had done several thousands times before.

"Just keep smiling and try not to faint, mothers seem to find it distressing when their husbands pass out on them.”

I was going to correct her, going to set her straight, but then I just left it, I mean the tip still applies. So I continue to smile and squeeze Alison’s hand back as she squeezes mine.

The door to the delivery room is constantly swinging backwards and forwards and I glance over my shoulder and I’m not entirely sure why as I’m not going anywhere now.

Gordon's Breakfast - 26

2006-10-13T12:00:00.000+01:00

The two of us set off out of the flat, down the street, and head towards the park. We walk across the junction and head down the street and across the Zebra crossing and we head up the tree-lined drive to the boating lake near the running track, which is where I know Alison wants to be. She loves the water and every time we've ambled around the park we always go by the route that takes us around the lake. Twice around the lake.

We come to a halt by the metals bars around the lake and we watch a short old Mediterranean man, a Greek or an Italian maybe, and he is taking out bread from his crumpled and well-used bag and feeding the ducks on the lake. The old man smiles and offers some dry white bread to Alison who smiles and gratefully takes it.

"I'll be like that. I'm sure of it. I'll feed the ducks on Saturday mornings, but maybe I won't be so tanned. I mean who knows," I say.
"No, you don't strike me like the tanned type what with your delicate pale white looks," she says laughing.
"Really? That doesn't sound so good. I'll be one of those translucent old people. Also known as TOPs."
"Old people aren't translucent, Gordie."
"Maybe I mean transparent?"
"No, I really don't think you do."

As we are looking across the old man offers us a smile and a gentle nod, but says nothing. Instead he turns with his hands folded behind his back and he walks off following the fence around the edge of the water.

After the old man has gone Alison tells me that the two of us are in the same boat now, which prompts me to take a few running jumping steps screaming as I go.

"What on earth are you doing?"
"I've just found out I'm pregnant and to be honest, that's pretty distressing. I thought screaming might help."
"Oh, you're very funny."
"You know, people do say that," I say.
"No they don't."
"Okay, but they do say, my sarcasm can be withering."
"Yes, but that isn't a good thing."
"Oh come on, you can't say that now. I built my whole thing around it."
"Oh too bad, anyway, I mean Susan."
"Susan? Now I'm confused. Susan's pregnant already? Adam is a fast worker, but that would be..."
"No you fool, I mean that we are both on our own."
"Oh, see what you mean, but I think I liked it more when you said she was pregnant."
"Oh, and why's that?"
"Oh, I don't know, the finality of it."
"Oh what you mean that if she was up the duff, like moi, you wouldn't have to do anything about it?"
"Something like that."
"Well she's not, so who knows."
"Anyway, less about me, lets talk about you and..."
"Me and my work fling? My seedy and reckless work fling. Okay. What do you want to know?"
"Paul will be back right? I mean he is absolutely crazy about you."
"I don't think so. I think I broke his heart. Anyway, you seem to be under the impression that I want him back."
"And you don't?"
"No," she says shaking her head.
"Wow, you're just huge with the news today."
"Wow indeed, you're so funny."
"I know, but this is an important day. I never knew we were old enough to have 'affairs', previously it was just screwing around, but you're married and have had affair with...well full blow results."
"Full blown? Oh thanks."
"Sorry, with serious results. Its like we moved to a new level. Affairs, its big."
"We've moved?"
"Definitely, I think we're together in this."
"Sweet."
"Possibly, so come on what about affair guy?"
"Oh I don't really want him either."
"You're one picky girl, you know that right?"
"I've always been picky."
"True, but now you don't want the husband, who technically you should want what with the marriage, and you don't want the affair guy who you should want as you don't want the husband...and, oh I'm confused here. So why don't you want him."
"I don' t know, he was, what was he? He was...oh I don't know he was just there, and I wanted someone who was there."
"That's' the trouble with people isn't it? They're either there or they're not."
"Oh that's very profound Gordie, in your case they happen to be elsewhere."
"Yeah, in my case that's probably true. You know, I have to tell you Ali, the whole seedy work thing? I never saw that coming."
"It wasn't exactly planned."
"Your seedy work girl. Nice."
"Oh thanks, anyway, I seem to remember you having one or two work things."
"True, but I was young, not married and errr stupid."
"True, but at least you're still stupid."
"There will always be that. So what did you want with affair guy?"
"Oh I think I just wanted a way out and then I found one and...I don't know, heavens knows, I'm miserably now."
"The Smiths are banned, really they should be. Besides you weren't looking for a way out."
"I wasn't? I thought I was."
"No, you were looking for an easy way out."
"Harsh, but possibly true."
"I find it really hard to grasp. I mean you two, Alison and Paul, were rocks, rocks talked about you. You were big in the rock world."
"A rock? Oh come on."
"Seriously, you're meant to be unassailable that's your job."

Alison at looks back at me for a moment and she looks a little put off.

"What do you mean unassailable?"

I start to explain to her that everyone has a friend who is unassailable. The needle in the eye of the storm the people who don't start going to pieces when all around them do.

"You're the rock steady one," I tell her, "keeping up a tradition of giving out wise and good advice to all your friends."

Alison shakes her head.

"That's how you see me?" she asks.
"Absolutely."
"Now that is funny."
"It isn't meant to be. I just always thought that you and Paul were beyond those kinds of jitters, which hit everyone else."
"I'm not unassailable though," Alison starts again.
"What do you mean?"

I ask her and as I do Alison turns her lip up as if she were considering telling something else, but is undecided.

"I'm just not I'm...." she shrugs, stops.
"Maybe you shouldn't tell me."
"Why because I'm unassailable?"
"Precisely."
"And who am I meant to turn to?"
"To you close friends," I say and I'm smiling as I do.
"Which would be you then, wouldn't it?"
"Is there anyone closer? There should be what with me being kind of foolish and short on good advice."
"And you say I'm funny,"
"Maybe we lost our unassailable powers when we got married and tried to grow up. I think it's about then that you start to stop playing and take it seriously. Well one of us did at least," she says.

I'm about to speak and I don't know what I am going to say and instead I end up silently dropping my jaw.

"It's okay," Alison says, "I don't know what to say either."

Alison turns to lean on the thick black railings and as she does she hands me the slice of dry white bread that the old man had given to her.

"Come on," she says, "feed the ducks for me."

Gordon's Breakfast - 25

2006-10-05T14:56:00.000+01:00

I knew this would happen. When I get back from Larissa Snowe's in the morning I get this eerie glimpse of the future. Not my future, but the future. Johnny and my sister are sitting together on the couch. On my couch. Sara is in his dressing gown and he in shorts and a T-shirt. It's like some huge public display.

"Hey," Johnny says as I walk in.

My sister looks up at me and smiles in an amused fashion. My sister is constantly amused and really I don't think I have met anyone else in the world who is quite as amused as she is.

"Hey," I say.
"You've just missed the phone."
"Really who was it?"
"Alison, she's coming round."
"That's weird, it's Saturday morning."
"What people don't visit you on Saturday mornings?" Sara says.
"Errr, no."
"Talking of Saturday mornings bit early for you, isn't? What with it being Saturday and you just coming in as you are?"
"Johnny, we agreed no details about my private life when my sister is around? Remember?"
"Gordon, it's okay," my sister starts, "I know you have no luck with women."
"You've been giving her the low down haven't you?"
Johnny laughs, "So what's the mystery. You didn't score did you?"
"No, I was..."

And I pause as I'm thinking how weird is this? I have been out for the night and slept with, but you know, not actually with, an ex girlfriend.

"So? You're making it sound interesting, come on?"
"I swear it's not interesting. Larissa Snowe and I drank cocktails and..."
"Yeah, and you could hardly walk so you slept on her couch, right?"
"OMG."
"What is it about you two and drinking?"
"I don't know, we just have a lot of fun with alcohol."
"We like it although I worry that we get a bit silly."
"I think silly is rather good," Sara says.

My sister must be mellowing or being secretly arch as that is unlike her. She's a management consultant and she has an MBA and I'm sure silly is just not an MBA-approved word. Amused, but not silly.

"Yeah well it gets my vote."
"Just how silly did you get?" Johnny asks.
"Oh cocktails and red wine, kind of fell asleep on the floor silly."
"Well as long as that's all you got up to."
"Sara's right I have absolutely no luck. I like to stick to dating women I have already been out with and who have no plans to go out with me ever again."
"That, might not be dating in the strictest sense, then," Sara says.
"True, I seem to be entering a new category of platonic dating. Anyway, what did Alison say?"
"Didn't say, maybe more commiserations on the Susan front."
"Commiserations on the Susan front? On a Saturday morning?"
"Yeah, weird, she'll be here any minute anyway."
"You know Alison used to help me with my advanced maths?" Sara says thinking out loud.

I nod do time travel and cast back. Alison was really good at everything, not just maths. My thoughts snap back and I can't help myself feeling just a little bit uneasy.

I start to make a pot of coffee, but don't get to finish before the buzzer goes and Johnny calls out.

"Gord mate?"
"What?"
"We're not dressed. You'll have to go."
"We're not dressed? Maybe you could dress individually."

Downstairs I find Alison standing on the doorsteps, with red cheeks and wearing a long dark coat and big white scarf.

"Surprise," she says.
"I'll say, we were just remarking that really people don't visit much on Saturdays."
"I know, and I thought I would come over. We haven't spoken since I suggested you go speed dating, and I hear that didn't turn out so well?"
"You could say that, come on in."

We head back up stairs and Alison takes a seat, while I finish with the coffee in the kitchen and bring out the cafeteria and four cups.

"Johnny's been telling me, you had a pushing contest?"
"Yeah, pretty grown up, I know. And please Alison I know you told me so many times, and you were right. Everyone was right, but hey what can I say?"
"So what are you going to do about it?"
"Do? Errr, well there's really not a lot to do about it. I mean I've tried pushing and to be honest that didn't work so well and I think Susan is really a little pissed off."
"She is, I think you may have completely missed the boat on that one," Alison says.
"Well I never did like the water much, maybe she'll dump him.
"Maybe," says Alison.
"Anyway, we're all intrigued about an early morning Saturday visit, nice as it is to see you."
"Ali, they're intrigued, I'm not," Sara says, "although it's always lovely to see you, where's Paul, haven't seen him for ages."

Alison doesn't immediately reply and she has one of those looks on her face that are shipped from the factory with instructions saying "use this when delivering bad weighty news".

"Well it's funny you should say that, he's left."

I hear Alison perfectly well when she says this, but I don't react as I am happily pouring coffee. Besides my brain tells me that Alison cannot possibly mean what she said literally as that would not make any sense what so ever. My brain has just edited the information and come up with the conclusion that what Alison is saying is that Paul is very left, which is true. He is still pretty leftwing, so in that context it all makes perfect sense as Paul wouldn't leave Alison as she is best - best job, best looking, best house, best husband, like I said best.

"When you say left Ali, you mean..." Sara says waving her arm in front of her obviously not quite getting it either.
"I mean as in gone."

Still there are no pennies dropping.

"What you mean gone away, work wise?" Johnny asks.

Alison smiles as if she finds us all vaguely comical and really I can see why she might.

"No, I mean gone as in walked out of the door and is not coming back."

Silence. The audience is stunned and really doesn't know where to look or what to say.

"Surely, it's just a falling out. He'll be back. I mean you're married Alison..." I say.

For some reason, this makes Alison laugh, which seems entirely the incorrect response.

"No not just a falling out. A falling apart, I'm afraid. It's one that's been a long time in the making."

"He was always very keen," Sara says.
"You're right, always keen. What is it with all that keenness?"
"Oh, I'm sure I don't know. I think it's something in their genes."
"I shouldn't have married Paul, and now this has all happened at the worst possible time, things are considerably bigger now."
"Bigger?" Sara says.
Alison nods, oh yes, she's saying.
"How much bigger are we talking about exactly?"

At this point Alison draws her arms about her.

"Oh, I think a little over four months is how much bigger we are talking about."

Sara gets up from the couch and she goes over to Alison who stands and the two women hug each other as Johnny and I look on.

"Oh dear," Sara says, "you're pregnant."
"It's actually worse than that," Alison says.
"OMG, you don't mean..."
"Afraid so, it isn't Paul's."

Blimey, now no one knows what to say, we're all stunned and I have that feeling that everyone wants to leave the room, but there really isn't anywhere to go. The silence lingers and people seem to be taking their time to drink their coffee and generally rearrange themselves.

"Come on," says Alison, "I want to go for a walk."
"She's talking to you idiot," Sara says.
"Yeah, I got that thanks dork."
"Oh play nicely you two will you? I'm having something of a rough husbandless weekend."

This silences Sara and I and brings an end to our brief outbreak of squabbling. Sara leans into Johnny, putting her head on his shoulder, with a dreamy smile on her face.

"Okay, mum," Sara says and everybody laughs.
"Oh stop that, I'm going to start feeling 12 years old again about any second now. Come on, let's go," she says.

Gordon's Breakfast - 24

2006-09-28T15:59:00.000+01:00

Larissa Snowe has clamped her hand over my mouth. I'm not entirely sure, but I think she's telling me that somehow she's had enough of me talking about Adam as the two of us consume cocktails at the Sanderson Hotel.

"If you say you're going to kill Adam one more time or use the phrase 'Adam and Susan, I don't believe it' and then proceed to throw your hands in the air, I think I might throw-up. I might throw-up anyway, but that's really an altogether different matter."

I can see that, as I have developed a habit over the last week of throwing my hands in the air and saying those very words. I just can't help myself. As soon as I think about him I find myself saying that particular phrase and throwing my hands in the air like a Seventh Day Adventist. Maybe its the The Universal Church Kingdom of God I'm thinking of?

Anyway, to be honest, I'm fairly disappointed by the reaction of everyone to the news. No one seems to share my feelings of general outrage and betrayal. I had a mini conference in the flat with Johnny and my new best relation, a.k.a. my sister - not a girl who does sympathy.

"It's your own fault Gordon."
"My own fault, How can you say that?"
"Face it mate it's your own fault," says Johnny.
"How can you say that?"
"Errr, because despite the fact that everyone told you to do something, including Adam, you sat on your arse. That's how I can say that," Johnny says.
"Okay, fair point, but..."
"But?" Adam says.
"You're right, no buts, but you know?"
"I still can't believe you went around there," Johnny says.
"I think I should call Susan and maybe apologise or something," I said.
"Oh, I wouldn't do that," Sara says.

I looked at her suspiciously, but she gave nothing away.

"Okay, since you are not exactly being forthcoming, maybe you could tell me why I might not want to call Susan?"
"She isn't talking to you."
"She's what?"
"You're a non-person."
"A what?"
"An unperson, you're off her Christmas card list and don't expect an Easter egg."
"Susan doesn't even send Christmas cards, although she is a fan of elaborate chocolate eggs," I say.
"Well if she starts sending cards, I wouldn't count on getting one."
"Just because I shoved Adam, that's ridiculous."
"Gordon, I think it might be something more than that."
"More? There isn't anymore. That's it."
"I can't believe you pushed him," Johnny says, half smiling.
"Yeah, I'm a world class pusher, me."

Later, after the Sanderson Hotel, Larissa Snowe and I are lying side by side in bed talking, which I guess might take a little explaining.

We went out as part of our shared mission to be more metropolitan although I think we may have erred slightly as having spent several hours drinking cocktails we ended up rather elegantly wasted. It was okay though, we didn't cause a scene although I think we may have swayed on the way out, but you know I think that could have been just us moving in time to the music. I'm sure there was definitely music.

We had started so well, but then I started to slur my words. I probably wouldn't have noticed this, but Larissa Snowe did helpfully point it out in a way that told me she was also smashed.

"Gordon you're slurring your words and the odd thing is I'm not entirely sure it's an unattractive quality."
"Lissa you are not slurring your words, but such flirty come-on talk from you tells me you're definitely toast."
"Mmm, I think you're right, you'll be pleased to know you act less gay when drunk."
"You're sweet."

Earlier Larissa Snowe had accused me of acting very gay, which was a charge I strenuously denied. I told her I wouldn't know how to act gay.

"Well you're doing a very good job," Larissa Snowe said.
"Oh come off it, how am I doing a very good job?"
"Well by pointing out every available man in the bar for a start. That's very gay."
"But I thought I was just being 'gay enough'."
"No that was being rather too gay. You'll be offering me tips on fashion next," and looking at me sideways, she added: "Maybe not."
"Hey this is my best jacket, it's about the only thing I can wear with jeans and shoes that says 'casual, cool and smart'."
"I'm teasing you, you look perfectly suitable."
"Hey, I always wanted to be suitable."
"This never happens in New York, you know?" Larissa Snowe told me.
"What you really mean is that it never happens in 'Sex and the City', that's because Americans just don't get trashed on TV."
"That's probably more to the point. I so wanted to be able to do cocktails and not end up a drunken wreck."
"Don't worry you're not a wreck."
"Oh that's a relief, I think there's a certain British way of doing cocktails and a certain American way."
"You know you're not really supposed to slurp on them."
"Really?" Larissa Snowe said looking up.
"Really."
"I suppose it's not very cool. I am definitely enjoying these though, but what I really want is a large glass of red wine," she said.

You know sometimes when you trace your life back to the moment when a certain evening started to go awry? For us it was definitely at that moment as a bottle or so later we were lying on the floor of her sitting room snogging.

I never use the word snogging it's just so teenage. I mean it's a great teenage word, suggestive of something lost, somewhere along the road between here and there, somewhere between youth and adulthood. I'm not sure when, but most of us reach a stage where we stop snogging and start kissing. Kissing is different, it's more grown up. Kissin often leads to something else. Snogging doesn't. It doesn't have to unless we're just talking about ruffling your date's sweater somewhat.

With us, then and there at least, it never felt like we it was going to lead to clothes being ripped off and hot sweaty roll and around the floor passion. Somehow that just isn't us. Or I should say that's not the two of us, not together. And you know what? That's okay as that's kind of how it was meant to be.

We were lying on the floor and we were nicely sloshed, facing each other and just talking against the stillness of the air and that late night thumph thumph of passing traffic when Larissa Snowe said it.

"Go on then."

And I knew immediately what she was saying, but I almost laughed instead of kissing her as Larissa Snowe looked like she was going to break into a giggle enjoying the complete absence of any tension or apprehension.

"Is that a kiss me demand?"
"No, but it just seems that point in the evening doesn't it?"
"You know I kind of know what you mean. And also I'm feeling that it's kind of easy to kiss someone you've kissed before, but weren't really expecting to kiss again, because they’re your ex and they had sworn that they would never speak to you again."
"There was that, so you're saying, this time around, there are no nerves?"
"No nerves," I say.

Going to bed together was just a case of either or. I could sleep on the backbreaking couch or I could share the bed, but with no funny business. Well no funnier than it had been so far, ust talking and sleeping.

"I think I can hear silence," Larissa Snowe says.
"Silence?"
"Definitely, the silence of Gordon no longer talking about Adam and Susan."
"Oh that kind of silence."
"Yes, that kind."
"Well now that we're here it seems kind of rude."
"You know that me not going out with you again still applies, don't you?"
"Oh absolutely, it's a eminently cool and sensible approach."
"Are you saying that I'm sensible?"
"I'm not saying that. I'm just saying it makes sense."
"Good, otherwise I thought the evening was really rather successful, the kissing included.
"Oh yeah me too, kissing included."
"But you still haven't answered my question from earlier."
"Remind me?"
"Oh you know I'm talking about Susan and what you plan to do about her and Adam."
"Hey, I thought you were enjoying the silence of me not talking about Adam and Susan again?"
"I was, but the key part of that sentence was you. It's quite another matter for me to interrogate you for my own enjoyment."
"Oh, I see, for your own enjoyment. Is this like payment?"
"Mmm, maybe, but you wouldn't deny a girl would you?"
"Me no, besides, I did answer you earlier."
"No you didn't, when I asked you when we were at the Sanderson, you didn't say anything."
"I know, clever huh? That's my plan."
"What your plan is to do nothing?"
"Absolutely. It's a tried a tested method. I've used it before."
"And how exactly does it work?"
"Exactly? Well, that's a good question, it really involves me avoiding them and cutting them dead at any social occasions where we might all be in attendance. Therefore negating any further embarrassment."
"Oh Gordon really, that's not a very good plan, I have to tell you."
"You know, funnily enough, you're not the first person to say this."

Gordon's Breakfast - 23

2006-09-21T14:38:00.000+01:00

I could kill Adam, but Johnny has discouraged me from doing this what with not having a leg to stand on.

It's been three days since I found out about Adam and Susan and I've decided to confront him. To be honest I'm not big on confrontations, but really I think some show of feeling is necessary here as I still cannot believe he did it.

I text him to tell him that I'm coming around to his flat to talk about the 'situation' and he texts me straight back saying 'go right ahead'.

When I get there I ring his buzzer and he comes down and opens the doors and stands there on his doorstep with him arms folded. I find myself stepping back and Adam takes a step forward pulling front door behind him. Instinctively I find myself crossing my arms also so that the two of us are standing there all crossed over on the weed-ridden path.

"Adam, I can't believe you went and asked out Susan, we talked about this and Susan was strictly off limits. I can't believe you did it. Did the mental hospital test too many drugs on you?"

Adam gives me a big smug 'oh yeah' kind of smile.

"Oh, I did more than that. I asked her out and we've been out twice since."
"Twice!" I shriek, "how can you have been out twice? It's only been three days."
"And nights."
"Oh please. You don't know the meaning of the word friends, in fact I don't think you know the meaning of most words."
"Well you know what it's like when you start a new relationship. You spend lots of time together."
"A relationship? You're in a relationship? Oh give me a break."
"I'm in a relationship with Susan."
"Jesus, I mean seriously."
"Deal with it."
"Deal with it? How can I deal with it you asked out my best female friend even after I'd asked you not to."
"You know, I think we've already been over this a few times."
"Oh we have?"
"Lets see now, a few dozen times. You had plenty of chances."

I throw my hands in the air again, what on earth has chances got to do with anything?

"I don't want chances. I just want you to not be dating Susan!"
"Well that isn't going to happen."

That's it really as the next thing I do is also really unlike me, but I can't seem to help myself and I push Adam as I shout out.

"Oh yeah."

Adam responds immediately in kind and pushes me as he shouts back at me.

"Yeah, that's right."
"You twat," I shout and I push him again.
"Prick."
"Dick."
"Wanker."
"Loser."
"Shit."
"Bastard."
"Fuck."
"Fucker."
"You artless flap mouthed clackdish."
"What?" Adam shouts pushing back.
"You droning half witted hedge-pig."
"What the fuck is a hedge-pig?"

It's at this point, after our pushing has reached a point where isn't really going anywhere (other than up and down the garden path), that we stop. I think we stop as unconsciously we know that the next step in the arms race, so to speak, is an actual fight, but that just isn't going to happen. We're just not fighters. I'm kind of speechless. I seem to have said all that I can say. I really don't know what else to do so I start to take a few steps backwards with Adam staring at me and watching my retreat.

"This is over," Adam says.
"Yeah," I say, "well I think you've mistaken me for someone who gives a damn."

With that I turn on my heals and head up the garden path and back out onto the street heading home.

To be honest I'm not entirely sure how effective that was or how much good I have done myself. So Adam isn't going to stop going out with Susan, there's not much I can do about that, but at least I've vented and I don't feel at all bad at having done so.

I know one things for sure, however, when Susan gets to hear about what I've been up to she is going to be one pissed off girl. I'm betting that Adam pretty much sprinted to pick up the phone as soon as I had stepped onto the street and called Susan and was within seconds uttering the phrase "you'll never guessed who just paid me a visit". I'm even surer of this, as sadly I think I would do the exact same thing if I was in Adams shoes. I expect that conversation to last just a few minutes, before the two new lovebirds hang up and Susan is speed dialling me with an Exocet intercept piece of her mind.

It takes me about ten minutes to walk home and I swear as I open the door to my darkened flat the phone is ringing. No need to guess who it is and I answer the phone accordingly.

"Susan," I say into the phone before she has a chance to let loose her barrage of outrage.
"Hmph," is all that comes down the line.
"Something to say?"
"Why did you go around to Adam's?"
"News does spread fast, doesn't it?"
"Gordon!"

And Susan never calls me Gordon, but like most people if they are really pissed off they soon start.

"I went around to give him a piece of my mind."
"I've told you before about that, you should go easy, what with having nothing to spare!"
"Funny, girl."
"I can't believe you went around there."
"That's my line, if you don't mind."
"What are you talking about?"
"Never mind," I say.
"Adam says you pushed him."
"I pushed him?" I say incredulously, "has he told his teacher as well?"
"Well did you?"

I pause, okay, so technically I have no right to incredulity.

"Yes, I pushed him, but he pushed me back."
"He pushed you back and you kept on pushing."
"Okay, that's also true. We had a pushing contest and, you know, really that's about all I have to say on the subject."

There's a pause on the line and I'm really not sure what she's going to say next.

"That's all you have to say?"
"Yeah, That's all I have to say."
"Okay," Susan says and with that she hangs up.

And although Susan hangs up on me all the time, I wasn't expecting that. I was somehow expecting more. I'm left looking at the phone and thinking, 'oh, so that's it?' as for now it does seem to be.

Gordon's Breakfast - 22

2006-09-14T15:28:00.000+01:00

I almost forget about Adam after my session with Laura, hearing nothing from either him or Susan until a couple of days later when a very breezy Susan calls me about some work. She would normally be absolutely gagging to tell me had someone asked her out, but with no immediate mention of it I know for sure that she turned him down flat.

Susan is ringing to ask me if I want to write something about the 'Manhattan Transfer' also know as the large bunch of Brits who up sticks for life in New York. Now I have to say this is odd, as I love writing those kind of pieces, and besides we know plenty of media types who have done it. But this is exactly the kind of feature that Susan usually gives to someone else. It's like she's being extra nice to me, which is plain weird.

"Suze this is the kind of thing you usually give to Rebecca to do."
"Is it really?"

She pauses.

"You know it is."

Susan laughs at this, she usually gives me stuff that will cause maximum personal embarrassment. Like therapy or 'Men & Yoga'.

"I know, but I was feeling, like today should be nice to Gord day."
"Oh really, what bought that on?"
"Oh, I'm feeling very calm and relaxed today. That's all."
"Have you been at the crystals for an extra spirituality boost or something?"

Spirituality is Susan's thing. She is tapped into every fad and I mock each and every one in turn, which is why the other year for my birthday she gave me 'The Little Book of Calm'. I it have lying by the phone and I find myself picking it up as I talk to Susan.

"Gord are you still there?"
"Yeah, still here, but I just read that I should feel thankful for the heavy burden of work, I'm not sure how that's going to make me feel more calm..."
"With features like this to write, you really should."
"I have to say you're on form today, have you changed your breakfast cereal?"
"You know I used to really love breakfast cereal. Skinny lattes and fat free muffins aren't the same," Susan says.
"Oh I agree, but then I eat a bucket of cereal every morning."
"And Gord I hate to break it to you, but that's why you are on your way to looking like a bucket."
"You're sweet."
"Anyway, tell me about your date with Larissa. You've been holding out on me."
"It wasn't a date we just mutually escaped speed dating hell together and took solace in some expensive wine."
"Sounds like a date to me."
"If it was that would make every time I meet up with any friend who happened to be female, like you, a date."
"But Gord at least that way you could tell people you were dating, that would be progress."

Susan happily giggles away to herself as she says this.

"I worry about you. You take far too much pleasure in statements like that."
"I know, I'm sorry, but you know I'm only teasing."
"You're sounding rather, I don't know chipper? This morning, what gives?"
"Oh nothing, nothing is giving."
"Really?"
"Really. So are you seeing Larissa again?"
"I am now you mention it. We're going to do drinks on Friday."
"Oh that's very grown-up, drinks? That's opposed to going to the pub."
"Yeah, we're going to be more metropolitan, apparently living in London you can do that."
"You'll be going to galleries after that, whatever next."
"I never go to galleries."
"Gord no one ever goes to galleries."
"Anyway talking of dating..."
"And I thought we weren't? Talking of dating that is."
"Well whatever we were talking about I had a call from Adam the other day."
"I wondered when you were going to ask me about that."
"Well hey I thought you might have been straight on the phone."
"Really? You thought I would have been straight on the phone?"

And it's weird as Susan sounds a little surprised when I say this, which is odd, I really would have been on the phone if someone totally inappropriate rang me up and asked me out. That said off the top of my head I can't think who might do that.

"Absolutely, I would have," I say.
"You would?"

And Susan sounds like she doesn't believe me.

"Yeah, totally."
"Mmm, so tell me what would you have said?"
"Oh something like 'you'll never guess which wholly inappropriate person asked me out'. Then I guess I'd have a really good laugh, I mean come on it seems only fair to share that kind of material."

I should apologise, I'm snickering as I tell Susan this, I can't help myself the whole idea just makes me want to laugh out loud. Adam and Susan, I mean seriously.

"Oh, now I get it," Susan says.
I get the impression that she is crossing her free hand across her chest.

"So come on tell me? What did he say?"
"Oh you want a breakdown? A blow by blow account of what Adam said?"

I can't help myself laughing at this point and I'm starting to feel bad for Adam as I imagine the cutting put down Susan used to dispatch him and his dating request.

"Suze you know that's exactly what I'm hoping to hear. It seems only fair."
"Okay, let me think, where shall I start? Oh I know, like all guys he took ages to get to the point, every time out you lot take your time."
"We think somehow, you know psychologically, that it improves our chances."
"You know it doesn't, don't you?"
"Sadly only too well."
"Then he did the 'so' thing."
"The 'so' thing?"
"Oh you know, we were chatting rather generally and then he said 'SO' in big capital letters to signal a change in conversational direction."
"Oh that kind of 'so'."
"That kind of so, which is just like a big road sign with flashing orange lights to stop people crashing into it, you know what the road sign says don't you?"
"That you're about to be asked out on a date?"
"That's the one. Right after that he said it."
"But what did he say exactly?"
"Looking for tips?"
"Not exactly, just, interested in other people's techniques."
"Okay, well he kept it pretty simple, all he said was 'do you want to go out sometime?'."
"That is simple? Huh."
"And you thought it was more complicated? Well, you know that explains rather a lot."
"Hey, this is about you, not me."
"Really? I wasn't sure."

Uh? And Susan has done that thing again and completely lost me.

"Uh?"
"Oh never mind. You want to hear the best bit don't you?"

And right now I would be rubbing my hands together in anticipation if I wasn't holding the phone. Maybe I could put it down...wait that won't work.

"You know I'm kind of looking forward to it."
"Oh don't worry I've saved the best until last. I'm just trying to remember exactly what I said to him?"
"Oh come on, you can't have forgotten already."
"Oh that's right, I said yes."

With that my brain comes to a juddering halt like a runner who has been powering ahead down a long straight road coming to an unsteady halt at a junction suddenly unsure what direction to take. It's exactly like that. My mouth is making circles, big uneven 'o' shapes like one of those giant wobbling pulsar stars. Just not so giant.

At first I'm trying to workout how yes translates into a big crushing you have to be joking. It's like my brain is trying to fit the square pegged yes into the round holed no, but it isn't happening, it will not go. Maybe if I hit it harder. Yes, wait a second, yes doesn't mean no. Not matter what way you say it. OMG.

"You thought I'd say no didn't you?"
"I errr...well yeah. Adam? God. I mean seriously?"
"Thing is Gord, Adam is a bit of a grownup and he does know a little bit about relationships."
"But Adam?"
"Oh don't Adam me. You're supposed to be my friend you should be pleased for me, aren't you?"

She says it all in a mock simpering voice, which is not altogether appealing - you know if we're being strictly honest here. And I try to say something like of course I am, but my mouth is just doing that wobbling thing again so I ending up saying nothing but a string of partial half words that make no sense.

"I..wh...err...bu...Ad?"
"You don't sound all that pleased."
"Besides I've always thought he was rather tall and quite good looking. I'm not sure I really want much more than that."
"Hey, I thought you decided that the next person you went out with you had to be desperately in love with?"
"Did I say that?"
"You know you did, come on you must remember as I laughed at you and subjected you to general ridicule and said you sounded like a teenager."
"So you did, but a teenager with a platinum credit card and my own flat this time around, which is how it should be."
"So tell me Suze are you suddenly desperately in love with Adam?"
"You know I think what I actually said was that if wasn't desperately in love with them I'd at least have to like them quite a bit."
"That always helps. So?"
"Oh come on Gord, I was drunk you can't hold me to things I say like that. It sounds good on paper, or after a few glasses of wine, but it's hard to get it to work in reality. It's all so impractical."
"I agree, but you haven't answered the question in relation to Adam."
"Well let's just say it's the best offer I've had in a long time. It's not like I've had any other offers recently unless you know of anyone waiting in the wings?"

There's a bit of a pause as I really can't think of anything else to say other than, "Adam?"
"Thought so, look I have to go, but we have a really good feature coming up. I'd love you to do it. It's on hopeless daters."
"Hopeless? You're kidding right?"
"No, it's about this certain group of people who would really be quite good at dating if they only ever got off their backside. When the idea came up at the features meeting I just shouted out your name."
"You didn't really shout out my name did you?"
"Errr, well I shouted, that's right up Gord's street, he's hopeless. Emma, agreed."
"She doesn't even know me," I protest.
"I know, but don't you find that one is generally speaking so much better known of than actually known?"
"No, I don't, that isn't even a saying. You made that up."
"I know, I thought it rather good."
"That's besides the point."
"Really, not to worry, look I have to go. I'm seeing Adam tonight I told him I want to got to a really expensive restaurant. I've loads to do. Bye."

With that Susan hangs up. Just typical.

Gordon's Breakfast - 21

2006-09-07T11:54:00.000+01:00

Maybe I should have mentioned this before. I have a therapist. I didn't mean to get one it happened totally by accident. It is of course, all Susan's fault. Therapy was another one of Susan's great features suggestions that I agreed to do after failing to think it through following one of our daytime telephone conversations.

I went a couple of times and wrote about it and that was almost six months ago, I've been going a couple of times a month ever since. I mean there isn't anything wrong with me, well you know in so much as there isn't anything wrong with anyone, but I have to say that I have rather come to enjoy therapy.

Funny thing is I was the last person in the world you would think would end up with a therapist. I was the regular cynic and debunker number one who would totally belittle and deride anyone who mentioned the subject. It just seemed pointless.

But having been I have to say that I kind of like having someone to talk to who isn't a friend and is quite disconnected from my life. Laura and I talk, but it isn't just talk it's the kind of talk we have - or I guess I should say, I have as I am the one who does most of the talking.

Today we're talking about Susan or rather Susan seems to be the subject I am talking to Laura about today. I always say to people after I've seen Laura that we always ending up talking about subjects that I don't necessarily want to spend time talking about. It's the same today. I blame Adam.

I didn't actually want to spend time talking about Susan, but she is on my mind after that call from Adam.

"What about Adam? How do you feel about that?"
"How do I feel? I love that question, have I ever told you that?"
Laura nods, and in her even and relaxed tone, she tells me in quite the most serious of tones.

"Yes you have."

I nod at this, that's right I have told her once or twice before. With Laura its like nothing ever get dismissed, she parries my poor wit and sarcasm and dispatches it all with a lance constructed of a few words.

"Well I guess if I'm being honest: unspeakably awful pretty much sums it up. Not good, right?"

Of course Laura doesn't answer the question she doesn't pass qualitative judgement on whether it's good or bad (after all that isn't her job) and besides she really doesn't need to.

"Why is that Gordon?" she asks me.

Oh, yeah, my therapist is one of the few people (Larissa being another) who actually call me by my full name. I mean I don't mind this, I happen to be on okay terms with it. It's just that just about everyone else that I know in the world has taken it upon themselves to shorten by name giving rise to a number of variations most of which you have already heard.

"Well Adam says he plans to ask Susan out."
"Why does that bother you?"
"Susan can't go out with Adam."
"Can't? Why would that be a problem?"
"Susan is my friend."
"And?"
"Well I introduced Susan to Adam who is also my friend."
"And?"
"And, well, it would all be a little strange if she was sleeping with Adam. But it's not a problem as I know she'll say no."
"You seem quite certain of that. Why is that?"
"Oh absolutely. I'm positive. I mean I just know."
"This seems to be quite important to you."
"I wouldn't say important."
"What would you say?"
"Okay, I suppose important.
"What if she says yes?"
"I'm not sure."
"Did Adam ask you if you had any intentions?"
"Everyone keeps asking me and I keep telling them."
"What do they keep asking you Gordon?"
"They keep asking me if I want to go out with Susan," I tell Laura.
"And do you?"

I find myself looking towards the floor when Laura says this before exclaiming, "No," and raising my hands in the air to drive my answer home.

"Really? You don't seem quite sure."
"Really?"
"Yes, really. Why do you think that is?"
This is a new tact, "What do you mean?"
"I mean why don't you want to go out with Susan. I think it would be good for us to understand this. It's obviously important to you."
"It's not that important to me," I say.
"But you wanted to talk about it today."

This is true. It's just that I wish people would stop talking about it. I serious I really do.

"True," I say, "it just came up a little lately."
"I see. So tell me Gordon why don't you want to go out with Susan? Is she unattractive?"

I pause at this point. I have to be really careful as I always do with the truth when I'm with Laura. I don't mean careful as in holding things back, but careful in what I say is actually what I mean. I'm sort of superstitious - you know in a catholic way or something - I'm worried that any lies I tell will come back to haunt me in the next...therapy session.

"No definitely not. Susan has a perfect bob."
"You like her hair?" Laura asks.

Whoa that isn't what I meant and I did in no way shape or form say that I liked her hair.

"I guess, I mean her hair is okay."

Laura nods at this.

"What else? Is she slim?"

I think about this carefully, okay, as a statement that is also true, so I nod.

"Yeah she is, nice figure."
"I asked you if she was slim?"
See what I mean? This always happens to me, I start to slip up.

"That's what I said.
"No you, said she was attractive, which is not entirely the same thing."
"I meant to say slim."
"Tell me something else about her."
"Something else? She has big brown eyes."
"You like her eyes?"

There she goes again changing the meaning of things.

"You could say she had nice eyes, I mean if you were operating purely on an empirical level, they're definitely one of her best features."
"What level are you on Gordon?"
"Me? Very practical."
"She's a brunette as well isn't she?"

That just has to be just a wild guess.

"She is, yeah, did I tell you that already?"
"Not as such," Laura says coolly, "I think what you said was that you had a life long attraction towards women who were brunettes, but it had not quite worked out for you."
"I said that?"

I talk way too much and have far too many glib moments.

"Yes you did. I think it came up when we were talking about Larissa and vomiting."
"Now you mention it..."
"I think I'm right in saying that, aren't I?" Laura asks.
I nod, "Yeah, I think you might be."
"Would overall you say that Susan was attractive?"
"I think it would be fair to say impartially speaking, on a neutral and objectively level, and that, yes, Susan is attractive."
"I see. And intelligent?"
I nod, "Very smart with a razor sharp wit, but you know I think sometimes she can be a little too sharp, you know, in that there's a razor blade in the post for being so sharp, kind of way?"
"I'm not sure that I do."
"Not to worry, I'm not entirely sure that's going to catch on as a popular catchphrase."
"On paper," and Laura looks up from her pad when she says this, "she seems perfect. Maybe we should look again at why you think she is unsuitable."
"I don't know. I mean I do, but..."
"Gordon you just said you don't know?"
"I know, but that's just a verbal tic. Susan is my friend that's what it is. Seriously. I mean I have thought about this a lot and that is what it comes down to. I think you should be able to have friends, you know like that."
"Do you think the two are mutually exclusive?"
"What being friends and being something else?"
"Yes," says Laura, "if that is how your prefer to put it."
"No, I guess they don't have to be. Errr...but I'm not sure that's really the point."
"What do you think the point is Gordon?"

And like when she always does when Laura uses my name it is in the same gentle, soothing and yet probing manner.

I cross my arms, "I don't know, I guess I just like it the way it is."
Laura nods, "I think that's all we have time for."

Gordon's Breakfast - 20

2006-09-01T16:44:00.000+01:00

I am in a really bad place this morning and really it has nothing to do with my Larissa Snowe related hangover. It's oh so much worse than that. I have Phil Collins in my head. See what I mean? Total nightmare.

I don’t know where he came from exactly, but he popped up like a small balding guy lecturing me on the tempo of romance, crooning ‘You can’t hurry love’. It's spinning around in my head like a broken record. It’s all my own fault. I was sitting here starring at my screen, nursing my hangover, when Adam called me and told me he planned to do something really incredibly stupid.

This wasn’t a surprise Adam calls me on a regular basis to tell me he is about to do something really stupid. For instance Adam occasionally calls me and tells me he has applied for a job in a bizarre part of the world. Like recently when he told me had sent an application to work of some EU funded job in Düsseldorf.

"Adam, why Düsseldorf?
"That's a good question G and I am trying to follow your lead and not examine it too closely."

But today his foolishness was writ large and inspired by last night’s speed dating event. You see how that happened? My brain was buzzing around and what does it come up with: Phil bloody Collins. Suddenly mid conversation I found my shoulders swaying as "My mama said, You can't hurry love, No, you'll just have to wait" ran through my head.

While all I got at last night's abortive speed dating affair, was a hangover and a non-date with an ex girlfriend…wait? that sounds like a bumper sticker, if only I had a vehicle of some sort to hang it on, Adam it seems came away with considerably more.

He began the conversation by telling me that he had reached an important decision. This was also familiar, Adam always reaches important decisions right before he does something incredibly stupid.

"I’m going to ask Susan out."
"You’re what?"

I was dumbstruck this went against all the rules. This was a blue-on-blue dating scenario. Friendly fire of the romantic kind.

"I realised last night."
"You realised what last night? That you were simple minded?"
"I knew you would be like this. No, that we get on really well, that you have no intention of ever doing anything about it, so I am. Just for myself and not you."
"I don't want you to do anything about it. Not for me or anyone else. Particularly you. You can't. That's not allowed."
"What do you mean not allowed?"
"Well, Susan is my best female friend and so... I mean no. Leave her alone. There are plenty of other women out there."
"But, that's part of the problem, yes there are, but when you boil it down there are really only a few who are in anyway suitable. Besides Susan is single and I wouldn't mind going out with her."

When he said it like that it sounded so simple– but evil and well slightly horrible like your worst teeth crunching exam hall nightmare all rolled into one horrible combination. By now my head was really throbbing as Phil Collins continued to lumber around my head with his size nine-song writing talents.

"I know all of that, but you can't. I mean, not under any circumstance. No, non, nein. If I knew more languages I would use them also."
"Gord you're not her manager."
"That's true."
"So what are you saying exactly?"
"I'm not saying anything."
"But I can't go out with Susan."
"Yeah, except that."

There was a long telephonic pause, but not a quiet pause as Adam was shuffling and huffing on the other end of the line. Imagined he was twiddling the telephone cord with his fingers. Then I thought that maybe I should clarify my last statement in case Adam got the wrong idea.

"It's not just you, none of us can go out with Susan."

As I said this I had a huge smile on my face as I was sure that this sentence really clarified the situation.

"None of us?"
"Absolutely, I mean think about it? We've all done it in the past. Slept with friends, it's never ended well. You're a prime example and no matter how you try to look back and give it a revisionist spin, it's not good and it's not pretty."
"Gee thanks."
"Look, it was kind of OK then when the field was not so thin, but it's different now. More serious, so there is no way you can go out with Susan even more so as you have form in this area. It's like willingly heading out onto the road to disaster. Why would you do that?"
"I'm not doing anything."
"But you are considering setting out on the road to disaster. Stop, that's all I'm saying."
"The road to disaster? Oh come on, it's hardly that."
"Seriously, it's like the dating equivalent of people in horror movies saying 'let's split up'. I’m just saying don’t split up."
"I know what this is about. You like Susan and you're worried that if I went out with her and it went well we could end up together. You’re hedging your bets."

I laughed at this, I mean seriously. I don't fancy Susan. I mean that's totally ridiculous. Besides Susan wouldn't go out with me as if she wanted to she would have already said something. Susan has never even hinted that she wants anything more from me than someone whose music collection she can dip into and watch box sets of Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

"I am not hedging my bets. I've told you loads of times before I don't want to go out with Susan. Believe me, I would have done something about it by now. Besides, if it was the case I would get jealous every time she dated someone -- and I don't. Instead, I just think 'Suze, you really can do better than this', which is clearly quite different."
"So why can't I go out with her then?"

There are so many reasons why Adam can't go out with Susan that there are simply too many to list, but really and chiefly I think it would be just too icky for words. Imagine if they did go out? There would be giggling, hand holding, kissing and…well other stuff as well. And we all know where that leads to: that's right shopping together. Adam, however, refused to budge.

"I'm going to ask her out."
"Adam, don't do it."
"Why? Do you know something that I don't?"

I thought about this. I thought really, really, hard about it, but (overriding my natural predilection for flippancy) I realised that in relation to Adam and Susan I didn't know anything that he didn't. I then considered lying, but I just know that if I did this would almost certainly come back and bite me on the arse.

"Sadly, not."
"So, you have no idea what she would say if I ask her?"
"None, but I can tell that you would be Mr Rebound. Susan has not gone out with hardly anyone in the last 18-months since Robin dumped her. You'll be -- Mr Rebound that’s all I’m saying."

Adam laughed at this. Actually, to be strictly truthfully Adam laughed loudly at this, which really was uncalled for I thought Mr Rebound was good stuff.

"Mr Rebound, that's weak. Even for you. That was ages ago. People don't rebound after a more than a year."
"Hey, I don't believe any of that crap either, I'm only telling you because Susan does. They all do. Women, I swear, surely you've worked that out by now?"
"What? You're telling me that women seriously buy into the Mr Rebound theory?"
"Of course they do. I thought it was bull until I was sitting there one day and I heard Susan and my sister talking about Mr Rebound."

It's completely true. It was before my sister met her perfect boyfriend (now ex-and so obviously not so perfect as first indicated) and she was just about to dump some guy. It was so clinical, so matter of fact, that I could not believe they were discussing it in front of me. It was like being invited to join a secret club. Even if at meetings my presence would be sacrificial. My sister said that she planned to dump this guy right before New Year after three or four months. Right before New Year? That's like cruelty to animals. The Society for Humane Dumping strictly forbids such callous behaviour.

But not these two, Susan told her that it’s no big deal as he was only Mr Rebound. Like Mr Rebound had no feelings whatsoever.

"Absolutely," my sister goes, "no big deal."

It’s weird, seriously, I think about Mr Rebound sometimes and I wonder how things worked out for him after being dumped one freezing December day. Left dateless on News Year's.

It was like Mr Rebound was just collateral damage. A leftover piece of carnage from the break-up of her last major serious relationship, and the two of them discussed it quite casually but made clear that this was perfectly normal female behaviour. I tell Adam all of this. I tell him about Mr Rebound and I tell him that this is the fate that awaits him.

"Adam, Susan – as nice is she is – will throw you out with the trash and you will end up like Mr Rebound – is that what you want?"

Adam laughed some more at this giving the clear impression that he was completely unimpressed with the Mr Rebound hypothesis.

"I don't care, I'm going to do it anyway."
"Adam, I really wish you wouldn't."
"Look, if she says no she says no, but if she says yes then that is what she says. And if she does you'll have to deal with it."

Damn I couldn't believe it as with that he hung up on me in an eerily very-like-Susan kind of way. I wanted to call Susan straight away and warn her, but even I could work out that was not my best strategy.

So I've been sitting here for the rest of the day not doing any work constantly looking at the phone waiting for it to deliver some kind of news. I know she'll say no. I mean she's just bound to. Susan won't go out with Adam, I mean I just don't see it happening. And with that, as if to back up my thesis, Phil starts up again: "You can't hurry..."

Gordon's Breakfast - 19

2006-08-23T13:20:00.000+01:00

"So I'm babbling at this stage at Adam, about all these thing I'm seeing, but it wasn't just babbling it all meant something. And I'm at the stage where I'm starting to think that something will just happen, you know that if you look at something for long enough, and note its shape and form in terrific detail, something will happen when in real life it doesn't unless you seize the day. I kept saying that seize the day, over and over.

"I think it's about now that I hit the wall and become stuck. It's also when I start having this debate with myself where you tell yourself that the stunning brunette on the table across from you is just another stunning brunette. I should explain that very quickly before I dig myself into a world of trouble. You see, what you do is tell yourself this so you don't feel so bad when you can't find the nerve to get up and walk across and say something to the stunning brunette, who is after all just another stunning brunette. Does that makes any sense?"

"I'm trying to work out if I am in fact a stunning brunette, or just another stunning brunette? That's the confusing bit," Larissa says playfully.

"Right now you're a stunning brunette, but stunning brunette or not getting up and walking over to you is akin to being asked to go over the top and charge into a hail of machine gun lead. I mean that sounds more attractive, and achievable, than walking to your table.

"Adam by this stage has had enough and is threatening me with getting up and walking over himself if I don't do something soon. I think I only just escape Adam getting up and saying 'my mate really fancies you', as it would have felt ironic and post modern to do that to him whilst feeling like ritual humiliation to me."

"But you still failed to move didn't you? I think by now Charlotte and I might head off down the river."
"You're walking away from me?"
"I am you had better think fast. You have to get from there to here, so what do you do next?"

"Good question, I sit there for a few seconds and am totally floored that you'd done it until Adam pulled on my arm, dragged me up and told me we were on a mission. So off we went walking behind you. You were doing that thing girls do together in twos, arms linked, occasionally leaning shoulder to shoulder, swerving left and right every now and again, and ambling, slowly, which makes it hard for guys who happen to be following along behind you, as we just don't do that slow motion almost without purpose walk very well. It just doesn't work for us. We're directional and, of course, we walk faster. If we hadn't have been following you we would have been half a mile down river by this time. Sure, we were aimless in our own way, just with more speed and go faster stripes storming on to nowhere.

"So we're behind you, a respectable ten feet or so and I'm now thinking that Adam's idea was incredibly stupid as although, as Adam put it, we had a fine view of both yours and Charlotte's behind there was no obvious way that conversation could naturally develop from there. While it mostly seems quite difficult to get up from the table and walk across to someone it seems slightly more impossible when you're moving as it seems to require a more complex intervention. We started to speculate where you might be heading - the Tate seemed a good guess - it's that kind of day."

"Charlotte and I of course being the kind of super smart girls that we are, know that those two guys from the café are walking behind us."
"And how do you react to that?"
"Oh we're being very giggly in a teenage kind of way. Following girls is after all the kind of thing that teenage boys like to do. I think we maybe encouraging you as Charlotte looks over her shoulder a couple of times to see that you're still there. Actually by this stage we're kind of surprised that you haven't started to speak."

"You're right, we've been pretty poor up to this point, but we know with Black Friars Bridge approaching fast something had to be done. Its like suddenly there's this ticking clock and whatever happened I had to come up with a really stupid idea before you reached the steps to the bridge. Then it hit me. I thought I had come up with the best stupid idea in the world."

"Are we talking Nobel Prize quality for stupid improvised techniques for meeting girls?" Larissa asks.

"Absolutely this is the best. We're talking sagacity free zone and just about anything sounds stunningly brilliant. I think its proper name is in fact total desperation. I'd like to think this was an incredible British trait, but deep down I worry it's a global guy thing.

"This is what I do. I shove Adam and tell him to run after me. Adam came straight back and told me that 'I was so gay it wasn't true', which caused me to just shove him harder making him stumble and then I started to run."

"So it's kiss chase we're talking here?"

"You know more or less - without the kissing. Only problem was that as soon as I start running, and having left that temporary common sense free zone, I realise I only have half a plan and I think with every slowmo step I take my plan starts to reduce in the amount of sense it makes at a steady pace. So after about half a dozen steps I start thinking that if something didn't happen very soon I would have no plan left at all. I don't want to exactly crash into you I just want to make sure you notice me as I come hurtling past, but at the last moment I swerve to avoid some little kid who was obviously out to bring down a random adult, like some Ewok tripping a Storm trooper, and I brush your arm about the same time that Adam comes from behind and smashes into me and knocks me crashing to the ground down more or less at your feet. Mission pretty much accomplished."

"So you're at my feet?"
"I'm at your feet."
"But now you have to say something, that's the hard bit isn't it? What's your first line?"
"Okay so I'm lying in a pile with Adam on the floor and I say 'I don't do this all that often' and you laugh, which is a good sign."

Larissa smiles.

"Okay so I laugh, I've already decided I like the look of you and I say 'I thought you looked like you were in need of practice'."
"That's a pretty damn cool comeback."
"Why thank you. I think as you're on the floor I'm going to ask you if you need a hand."
"You're a forward kind of girl. I'm of course going to say yes, it would be rude not to. So I take your hand and I try not to pull too hard. As I come up I'm very close to you and I think that's when it really happens. What do you think?"
"I think that's a good story."
"Yeah, I think it is too."
"Do you think it would have been different it we had met like that before?"

I smile at this, it's a perfect opportunity to tell her how dissimilar I think it would have been and how differently it would have played out, but I don't think it would have, I mean I don't know, but some how its all too easy to say it would have been different.

"No, I'm pretty sure I would have still vomited over your shoes."
"I think you're right," Larissa says laughing, "I think you would have done so as well."

Gordon's Breakfast - 18

2006-08-16T16:09:00.000+01:00

"Anyway, you shouldn't have any problems, advertising chick, flat, car, girl about town, you should be hanging out with friends drinking cocktails in London's finest selections of bars and restaurants. You'll have some suave type in a designer suit dropping his card in your lap in no time."
"Oh thanks and you make it sound so appealing. I don't want some slick prick staring down my cleavage, thanks."
"You don't?"

Larissa gives me that look down her nose again.

"I don't."
"Don't worry I'm sure there's a selection of types out there - some who do not stare down your cleavage while talking to you. I'm positive. I've seen Sex and the City."
"But that really isn't me, I'm not cocktail bar girl. Besides I don't think it's just me. It's lots of women I know who are over 30 and work. We don't do dinner and up town cocktails and get up at six thirty and start over again."
"So you're saying that even if I did get up off my backside and go out I wouldn't meet any Sex and the City type glamorous women?"
"I'm sure you might, what colour is your credit card?"
"You know last time I saw it I think it was a bluish kind of green, with bits of purple. Bit new age?"
"Well it's not one of the two core food groups: black or platinum."
"Damn, my chances are fast receding."
"There must be another way."
"You know I don't think there is. You could try internet dating?"
"Internet dating? The whole concept sounds depressing. It doesn't seem to allow for personality."
"Possibly true."
"You mean you haven't tried it?" Larissa asks.
"Not really. I've written about it and heard about it, but not you know...actually done it. I'm more your theory kind of bloke. Application is tricky."
"But you don't go out? It's ideal for you."
"Yeah, I know, besides I photo badly, apparently scowling is not attractive."
"Who would have guessed."
"Tell me about it."
"So what is 'you'?"
"That's a good question. I'm not totally sure I know. But I think it's something like girl looks over, we do the whole eyes meet thing, she walks up to me and we start talking - pretty much go from there."
"Sounds familiar. That must happen to you so often," Larissa says laughing.
"You know now you mention it? Not for a while."
"What kind of while are we talking about?"
"Let's see? Must be about the four going on five year kind of while."
"Remind me again how we met?"
"Lets see, I think we met the old fashion way. In a bar."
"That's right you were the guy in the corner."
"You were the girl in the middle."
"Were we drunk?"
"Not then, but definitely later."
"Whatever happened to just, you know, meeting people?"
"I think that was an urban myth."
"I don't believe it. Let's say that we just met. I mean literally minutes earlier, say it was sunny day down by the river, tell me how it happened," she says smiling.

It's a cool idea, it's like a story, a narrative of romance, so I start to think how it might have happened if we had just met whilst sitting down by the river watching people walk by enjoying a clear blue sunny winter's day.

"I like that, okay, tell me what you're doing first of all?"
"Okay, I'm with my friend, Charlotte."

And Larissa gives a little wave to her imaginary friend Charlotte.

"...we're enjoying a girly walk and talk down by the river, what about you?"
"Okay, I'm with Adam. Two blokes hanging out together like you and Charlotte. We're doing the same river thing, a bit of people watching, it's a perfect day for it after all. Anyway, I think we are vaguely heading towards the Royal Festival Hall, where there's bound to be some quaint folk or world music thing playing, plus Adam is always convinced it is a great place to meet women."

Larissa laughs at this reference to Adam, as she knows that Adam thinks most places are great for meeting women.

"Yeah, right, so I try to tell him yes it is, but for some reason only Danish and Japanese tourist women with just a few sentences in English, but you know what he's like - not easily put off."
"What a girl only needs a couple of serviceable phrases for what he has in mind?"
"You said that, I couldn't possibly comment. Besides, I think Adam believes he's fluent in the international language of lurve, which I'm total convinced is like Atlantis and is also a myth. It is right? A myth I mean?"
"Oh I think so, unless you happen to be a tall Greek god type I think they're hardwired to speak it. So let me see? To scupper Adam's plan you insist on stopping off at the NFT for coffee, so you could watch people buy books, a much underrated pastime, and drift along by the river?"

We are definitely on the same wavelength and I try to remind myself why it didn't work. Oh, yeah, that's right, it was the total lack of communication problem. Just a small detail.

"That's right, so we get coffee and we sit and we start to look, to watch people go by, watch the river, and then I see you sitting just across from us."
"Do I see you as well?"

I shake my head.

"No, not at first, I see you for a long time before you notice me. I'm doing that thing where you keep looking up and hoping that at some point the person who has caught your eye notices you too? It must be five minutes more maybe, before that happens. It's absolutely freezing and after a while Adam wants to go inside, but because I'd seen you sitting there I just had the feeling. I was already nervy even though I didn't think I would ever say anything to you, which of course I didn't."
"You didn't get up and speak to me? Oh I'm disappointed. I was expecting brimming confident guy to spin me a line."
"It's okay it gets better, but just then I'm rooted to the spot, it's like when sometimes, you have those moments and despite knowing that you don't have the courage to get up and walk across and start talking you don't want to move either? Well, it like that besides I'm the guy who likes to drink hot coffee in blasting sunlight whilst freezing and stealing the odd glance of this dark haired girl in a big red scarf."
"And it's about then that I look up isn't it?" Larissa asks.
"Yeah, then you look up and we hold eye contact for just a second," I say.
"Oh and there's a click isn't there? A little click like a static charge of electricity. Then I started to look away as girls do, but I see your head turning, and you smile. I didn't expect you to smile, as English boys never do. They seem to find it so hard to flirt like that."

True enough spontaneous flirting is difficult. I should have taken a class or something.

"So have you noticed anything about me while you were sitting there? What colour are my eyes?" Larissa grins at me when she says this and eyes me narrowly.

Oh boy, what can I say? Among the many crimes I committed was once telling Larissa not to do that thing, to give me that reproachful look, with her "big brown eyes". I'm not, Larissa replied, because my eyes are bloody well green. Stylish, I know.

"Oh I've started to notice loads and I started to read into the fact that I'm noticing things that sometimes I never notice until much later. I know you think I'm a cynical sack sometimes, and I am, but I think I've been radiated by the winter sunlight as I start babbling at Adam going on about how you look cold that you're cheeks were burning red and that your eyes were such a vivid green."
"They're definitely green are they?"

I nod, smile, suitably put in my place.

"Definitely green, a very affecting green, if I might add."
"I think I'll allow you to add that," she says.

Gordon's Breakfast - 17

2006-08-10T15:18:00.000+01:00

Back in the world of speed dating, our three minutes are ticking by.

"I was wondering when you were going to turn up. It's been quite a while."

Larissa I think like me subscribes to the inescapable view that sooner or later, and usually quite out of the blue, old boy friends and girlfriends turn up one day or another. It's a rule they just do. And it usually happens at the most unexpected times and places. I think tonight qualifies perfectly for that.

"Well, I've been trying not to for various reasons, which I'm sure you're probably aware of. You know for my own safety as well as for the general well being of your shoes."

Shoes? Did I really need to mention those? I'm such a fool when it comes to bringing up very humiliating incidents about myself. I guess I should explain, it seems only fair, what with everyone else already knowing the story.

Larissa had invited me to some work related party - it was Spanish themed and there was free Tequila and, well, I drank a lot of it and I'm reliably informed that I was so drunk that I held onto her arm for the rest of the evening occasionally resting my head like a dead weight on her shoulder, and oh yeah, apparently I mumbled incoherently for likes hours?

Clearly, not being quite satisfied, I didn't stop at mumbling and refusing to let go of her arm, I topped this off by vomiting on her shoes in front of about 30 witnesses who were all magically sober, I mean how does that happen? The whole magical sober thing it always gets me, I swear.

The worse part is, oh yeah, there's a worse part. The whole thing was all related to me after the fact. As I heard it, Larissa sort of half dragged me with the help of one of her strapping colleagues into a black cab and back to her place. No idea how she got me up the stairs, but I did have a few bruises the next day and I'm still not sure if this was in transit or if appalled as she was she used me - justifiable I think, we can agree - as a punch bag. When I came around it was two o'clock in the afternoon, which is when I found the note.

I should say here that normally, I would be with you and say 'she left him a note?' that's so harsh, what a bitch, but in this case I think I got just about what I deserved. The note was written in block capitals, in case as retarded as I am I should miss its meaning 'NEVER SPEAK TO ME AGAIN. EVER. EVER'. So that's the story with the shoes.

And as I say the word shoes Larissa doesn't storm off or turn all fiery and annoyed, instead she asks me to sit down.

"Are you sure?"
"Oh sit down, our date's already started," she says with a tremor of a smile.
"Oh-kay," I say.

I sit down, really slowly, in case, you know, she's joking and is really lulling me into a false sense of security so that she can throw a drink at me.

"Were you expecting a different reaction then?"
"Well to be honest yes, you know considering your last message."
"Have you still got that?"
"You know, I think I might have."
"Well, I've mellowed and besides you're one of the funnier people, sober or generally otherwise, that I know. "
"That's one of those comments that walks like a compliment and talks like a compliment, but really isn't, right?"
"That's what I mean," Larissa says, drawing her hands together.
"This is weird as dating experiences go."
"Isn't it? I have to tell you that you're three minutes are flying by and you haven't done much impressing yet."
"Yeah and about that? Nothing quite says failure like going to a dating event and failing to impress someone you have already dated and been dumped by."
"Mmm, well you have a least another 90 seconds, maybe your luck will change?" Larissa offers.
"You think? Well, considering I got Susan immediately before you, who is generally the person everyone thinks I should be going out with..."
"Gordon..."

But I interrupt Larissa and cut her off, as I know exactly what she is going to say. Did I mention that besides my mother, Larissa is the only person who calls me Gordon? And I don't know what that's about either.

"...and I followed Susan up with you. Who I've been out with. Speed Dating? I'm thinking not for me."
"No not terribly successful, but funnily enough I was thinking quite recently that it would be nice to see you again."

When she says this I have her note framed in my head: NEVER SPEAK TO ME AGAIN. EVER. EVER.

"You must have mellowed. What are you a sucker for punishment?"
"Dream on, besides I'm off at the end of the year."
"I heard."
"Oh you did? Keeping tabs?"
"No, Radio Susan. Barcelona, you're a lucky girl."
"Oh, it's been said, now lets go and get a drink."
"A drink? What about the dating?"
"Oh it's not really for me. My first guy didn't look at my face at all and my second, well, his feet hardly touched the floor when he sat down. They sort of dangled, I wanted to give him a lollipop."

With that Larissa takes a quick sip of her gin & tonic, stands and picks up her coat with me following just behind her. As we move away I look over my shoulder and back towards Adam and Susan who seem to be laughing away like two people sharing a private joke. To be honest I'm not entirely sure how much of a good idea that is, but then I turn my attention back to Larissa who is almost at the exit.

Outside of the bar Larissa is putting her coat on and I ask her where she is thinking of heading. She names a bar around the corner, which I know I've been with her to in the past. It's a basement bar off Haymarket and I seem to remember getting kind of drunk.

"Oh one thing, I should say, you know that under no circumstances would I ever go out with you again, right?"

I can't believe she's even mentioning this, I mean seriously as it totally goes without saying.

"Oh absolutely. To be honest I'm surprised you're even talking to me."

Larissa crosses her arms.

"Oh stop that. You're doing your thing."
"My thing? I don't have a thing. I'm like thingless, everyone says so, they point, you know, 'look, hey, over there, it's thingless guy'. That's me. No thing."
"Gordon you have a thing and you know it. Your thing is self deprecation to the point of overkill," and then she starts to mimic me, "I'm surprised you're even talking to me. Oh pleazzzeee."

I shrug.

"Okay, a small thing."

We walk to the bar still laughing about the whole dating experience and how we progressed from drunkenly meeting people in bars and clubs to precision organised events, which are run by people with clipboards.

Inside the bar, we order a bottle of wine, and find a table. I pour the wine and pass Larissa her glass.

"I'm kind of surprised, I have to admit," I tell her.
"And what are you surprised about now?"
"About you, being here, I always thought you were a sure thing, a slam dunk at the alter just waiting to happen, where's the marriage that's what I want to know?"
I'm laughing as I say this as I can see Larissa's face screwing up with every word I say. Larissa is not a slam-dunk kind of girl.

"Oh Gordon, a slam dunk? Do I even strike you even remotely as the kind of girl who slam dunks?"
"Thinking about it you're more of a gentle forehand than a slam dunk kind of girl."
"Gentle forehand? Oh, damn me with faint and limp wristed praise."
"Okay, well if we're playing truth, for a while there was a possibility."
"Thought so, how close did you get?"
"Well we talked about it and then I decided that no, he wasn't the one. That was a year ago."
"So what happened?"
"I woke up one day and realised that I'd been kidding myself. It dawned on me, we had really little in common, had a better than okay time and were really quite good at holding down long term relationships. Holding down somehow isn't quite enough. It was that hard making the break, but I did the right thing, but on the other side its impossible to meet people."
"I'm with you on that, I can for the life of me remember the last time that I met someone, who I wanted to go out with."
"But Gordon you are literally famous for not going out."
"True. Yeah and what's that about?"
"I'm sure I don't know."

Gordon's Breakfast - 16

2006-08-03T11:52:00.000+01:00

I then move around the thick square pillar and on to my next date. I'm stumped, I really am, and I start to relax thinking that Susan is probably here on her own, but then there is a seismic shift in the force. I think the shroud of the dark side just fell.

"Larissa? Oh come on you have to be kidding," I say holding my arms out.

Larissa is laughing. Somehow, she finds it all terribly amusing, but I don't know why.

"How on earth did Susan manage to recruit you for this?"
"You know, I'm not terribly sure. It really isn't my scene."
"That's kind of funny as it doesn't seem to be anyone's scene."

I guess at this stage I should come clean. Larissa Snowe and I have history, it's true. Not very long history and not very good history, but history's history none the less (is that even a saying?). What's the best way to say this? It's difficult, but I guess what it comes down to is this: we went out and during which time I managed to get myself dumped three times. The third and final time was irrevocably. Definitely a three strikes and you're out.

This was along time ago, but sadly not long enough ago for me to claim youthful ignorance, what with being 30 at the time. If that suggests it was fairly disastrous that would indeed be correct. I'm still trying to work out what the 'thing' (and it was a thing) Larissa and I had, the bumpy, tempestuous, wrong grooved, awkward, drunken, jagged and fumbling. I think it was in fact the closest I have come to experiencing the joys of a teenage relationship since...well since I was a teenager and it was never much good then.

Alison said once that never had two guarded people decided to date each other.

"It was like some Frankensteinian experiment in guardedness mixed with alcohol."

Errr, that is exactly what it was.

When I see her I have to say Larissa looks great. Her long dark hair is a maybe a little shorter, but still around her shoulders, but even though it has been at least four years very little else has changed. Her eyes are still pools of emerald green and high cheekbones, which require no help.

I get that jolt, that little internal churn, as my body reacts, which is good and bad. Bad as she still has an effect, but good as it takes me like an express train all the way back to the first time.

What is it with first times? Maybe it's just that people want to have good stories to tell so that they can look at each other every now and again and say "remember how we met?".

How we met is like this. It was a small birthday party in the upstairs of a bar in Notting Hill called Beach Blanket Babylon. Adam had been dating a friend of the birthday girl.

Adam was off and I was doing a pretty good impression of surveying the party scene from some corner wall. I'd seen Larissa earlier, noticed her as she moved through the party, and again I saw her later when for a moment she was on her own, and paused mid room, as I again looked her way and she looked back.

Boldly, I thought, Larissa gave me a half smile and continued to look. I returned her smile and radically went one step further tipping my bottle of beer in her direction. Cool, I know.

Larissa walked over to where I was standing. Her arms crossed, and her feet close together as she came to a stop, she rocked back and forth a little before either of us spoke. She smiled. I felt awkward standing there on my own somehow and I started to smirk. I couldn't help it.

Playfully Larissa said, "So you're the guy in the corner that everyone is talking about."

I returned her smile.

"Everyone's talking? Wow that doesn't usually happen to later, you know when I start falling over."
"Oh really? Well it's started already, word is out about the guy on his own in the corner."

I nodded: "I'm not technically on my own," I said sweeping my beer bottle hand out in front of me," "I'm with him," I said pointing to Adam who was deep in conversation with a blonde.

Larissa looked over her shoulder.

"You're not exactly mingling though, are you?"
"I was getting ready to mingle, you know working my way up to it. Slowly."
"What? And you can't rush these things?"
"It's what I heard," I said nodding to myself as if imparting some deep truth, "it's the secret to mingling that many people simply do not know. Too fast too soon crash and burn, it's a sad story."
"I see and your strategy is to stand in the darkest corner on your own drinking beer. You're a fun guy," she said smiling.

I half tipped my bottle of beer towards Larissa and snorted a laugh.

"Yeah, I make all the smart moves. Everyone says so."

Larissa nodded, "So you're one of those people who turn up at parties and like to try and populate your own bit of the party."
"Funny you should say that, but it's true, I like to try. I was pretty successful at one stage. My corner was buzzing, but it led to a party power struggle. The host wasn't into splinter groups forming on the fringes, she fought back and my fringe group crumbled."
"I see. And you are always the guy in kitchens at parties right?"
"You've seen my work then? Cool. I can be rented by the hour to stand in your kitchen in case you're worried that it might remain empty during a social function. My attendance can make you look much more popular than you really are."
She smiled: "I'll keep that in mind, but what you're really saying here is that you are waiting for people to stop and talk to you, as you hold court with your bottle of beer and cigarettes."
"Well to be honest that does sum it up pretty well."
"It's a good job I stopped by then."
"Yeah otherwise I could have been standing here all evening on my own."
"How long would you have stood here on your own before you made the decision to start a conversation. Annabel, who is the host, long ago noticed you standing here, she considered calling security."
"Security? Wow that could have been embarrassing, but hey I'm always up for novel new experiences."
"Is that so."
"Truth."
"So are you prepared now to go with the flow?"
"Oh you mean to mingle? With other people? Radical. Did I mention I was the shy and retiring corner of the room type guy? You get a good view of what's going on."

Larissa turned and looked back across her shoulder pivoting slightly to look across the rest of the room. She turned back to face me.

"We don't have to I could quite easily stand here for a while."
"You could?"
"Sure," she said.

And so we did. After a while, as it got later, and when it seemed we had talked about everything from London to Barcelona, and with that feeling of departure creeping in, I started to ask her a question.

"Look, I just wanted to ask you...errr..."

Larissa smiled, "I'm not seeing any one, and besides I have the worst luck in the world with men. I thought I would tell you that in advance."
"Oh, me too," I chimed.
Larissa arched her eyebrows, "Really?"
"Absolutely...but with women."
"Oh we should definitely date then," she said laughing throwing her hair back as she did.

Gordon's Breakfast - 15

2006-07-27T13:31:00.000+01:00

Adam and I turn up to event that is being held in the upstairs of bar on the Haymarket near Piccadilly Circus. We have a beer downstairs and sit around checking everyone else out before moving off up stairs.

In the upstairs bar, where the lights have been suitably dimmed, there is a large group of people milling around. Even at first glance there are definitely more women than men. I think someone else had mentioned this. They seem to have trouble attracting guys along, but tickets for women are always sold out. Adam nudges me, smiling about this and then he whispers "fish in a barrel", I slap my forehead, oh brother, what am I doing here.

Standing by the bar are two women with clipboards who are dispensing name badges.

"I hate name badges did I mention that?"
"What you're a person not a badge?"
"No, nothing so ideological, it's just that my name is always spelled wrong."

Seriously, it's true, if I get a name badge it will inevitably say George, Graham or Gordan. Have you ever met anyone called Gordan? No, me neither.

"Don't worry you don't look like a George."

We collect our badges and it's worse than usual. I don't even see how it's possible as I look at the printed card and clear plaster holder.

"So what does it say?"

I show Adam my badge.

"Godot?"

Adam finds this hilarious and is laughing out loud while I glumly stand there looking at it. I don't believe it. Okay, my parents obviously had a sense of humour, but not that much of one.

"I think that might be my fault."
"What did you do?"
"Well, when I filled in the form, I put you down as Gordo."

I raise my hands in the air in disbelief. How on earth could he do that?

"But why would you do that?" I ask him.
"Well to be fair, it is what we call you."
I shake my head, this is, of course, true.

"Fair point."
"Look at it this way, you have a talking point."
"What that my parents were very, very strange people?"
"No I was thinking more like 'hey, I'm Godot, you're waiting is over."
"You know, I really think you would be much better off with this badge than me. You already have the corny lines and are prepared to use them on a first strike basis. You're a dangerous guy."

One of the women running the show calls everyone's attention and says that as there are more women than men tonight the men will be doing the moving around why the women stay seated. We're reminded that we only have three minutes.

"So make the most of it," she yodels.

The women shuffle off to the ring of tables and chairs positioned all the way around the room and the men hang back watching the women go.

"Anyone you noticed?" I ask Adam.
"Maybe one or two, but difficult to see really what with it being so dim in here."
"Yeah, what's with that?"
"No idea, anyway here we go."

The men are given numbers and ordered off to find the corresponding table. As soon as I sit down the woman I am to sit opposite, who is attractive'ish if red ringlets are your thing, she looks at me and sighs and a sour look spreads across her face like a setting sun. She seems to deflate in front of my very eyes, which to be honest is kind of off putting.

But she does have a point. Who needs three minutes?

"You're not my type," she says in flat nasal voice.
"Ditto," I say.
"Dit what?"
"Errr nothing."
"So what are we going to talk about?" she asks me.

I look at her and really I want to say lets sit here and enjoy the silence, which seems appropriate considering our date ended about two seconds after I sat down. Worse than that we haven't even officially started yet. The women running the evening are still waiting for everyone to get settled. It's only now that they tell everyone to get started.

"Well why don't you tell me what you type is then?"
"Brad Pitt."

Oh really, I'm thinking. Of course he is. I mean why wouldn't he be? I wish I could leave it there, but before I know it my mouth has uncoupled itself from my brain and is talking. Oh boy.

"That's pretty optimistic of you," I say.

She looks at me with a face of thunder.

"Twat."

I nod at this. It seems a fair enough analysis, and we then sit there for two and a half minutes looking into space. Not, I should add, each other's space.

My next date is really no better. She gets the talking off to a rapid start, by starting quite clearly her aims and objectives.

"I work in TV and I'm a vegetarian. I'm only really interested in dating other people who work in TV and who are vegetarians."

I nod at this and smile, I read smiling makes your date feel more comfortable. Me? I'm all about the comfort.

"Do you work in TV?"
"Nope."
"Are you a vegetarian. I would settle for a vegetarian."

I like that, I mean come on, the girl would settle for a vegetarian.

"No, I'm a prolific meat eater. I also have no problem with McDonald's in moderation."
"McDonald's? I'm not sure we're that suited."

This did also seem to be a pretty astute piece of analysis. All wasn't lost though she thought my Godot badge was very amusing, but clearly her waiting period looked like it might be a bit longer.

As the musical chairs get started again they guys are all up trundling forward I look back to Adam who is coming up behind me and smile and shake my head. I almost walk in to the next table paying little attention as I am to where I'm going. Before I see her I'm thinking that it can not possibly get any worse, but right then it does. I can't tell you how furious I am.

"Susan," I say with my hands on my hips.

I stand there in front of her and don't even bother to sit down.

"Oh don't say it like that."
"Don't say it like that? That's rich, what are you doing here? After all of your pleas for me not to come?"
"I know I can't believe you came. That's so unfair. I wanted to keep it quiet. This is not the kind of thing that I would tell people I would do."
"But you're here."
"I know, and I'm a single cliché. Congratulations you've exposed me. I want a boyfriend what do you expect."
"A little honesty, that's what."
"Well, I'm not sure dating and honesty are totally compatible."
"I'll say, I don't believe, that's so underhanded and cheeky."
"Gord keep your voice down. You'll put people off."
"Gee wouldn't want to ruin your night."
"Look I'm sorry, what can I say? I thought it would be embarrassing."
"Oh yeah I bet, what me getting to see you at work?"

Susan puffs indignantly at this.

"I don't do 'at work', thank you very much."
"So who did you drag along?"

Susan smiles when I say this, which is disarming. By all rights she should not be smiling. I'm worried and I feel my upper hand, drenched in righteous indignation, start to slip away. I have a really bad feeling suddenly in the pit of my stomach.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

I try to peer ahead, but the next girl, is hidden behind a pillar. I wrack my brains for a second, but cannot think of anyone she would have bought with her who would allow her to show off such a smug smile.

"Not Charlotte, surely?"
"Don't be silly, you wouldn't find Charlotte here you idiot."
"So who is it?"
"Well, Gord it was difficult to find someone to come along. It's not like I have Adam who has to be held back."
"You've got to give it to him, the guy is one big keen positive attitude just raring to get stuck in."

And just about at that point our three minutes are up. I'm not sure I used them all that well.

"Oh hurry up Gord, now is my chance to meet some real boys."
"Funny, you've got Adam next."
"Oh that's nothing, wait until you see who you've got."

I eye her suspiciously hoping that she will give something away, but absolutely nothing.

"What have you done?" I ask her.

Susan gives me her best innocent look.

"Moi? I haven't done anything, this one is all down to you Gord."

As I move away from Susan and the table I am still wracking my brains, but really it's a total blank. Susan gives me a little wave.

"Oh you're funny," I say over my shoulder.

Gordon's Breakfast - 14

2006-07-19T20:18:00.000+01:00

When you work at home you kind of exist in a slightly different world. Within this world there are a number of rules and one of these rules is generally speaking that during the day the doorbell never rings. It's a fact it just doesn't. It's weird I know, but true.

The doorbell never ringing adds to the eerie quietness of the streets that's only punctuated by a blanket of merged voices that drifts in and out of the school down the street at even intervals throughout the day between the start of the whole education business, lunch and going home time. So when the door goes a little before one o'clock, it makes me jump. I'm just so not used to it ringing.

Finally I'm thinking one of those lazy postmen is ringing my door ready to deliver an exciting parcel. So when I open the door I'm a little surprised to see not one of the postal service's unshaven and slack jawed delivery men, but Alison, which is weird as it's a Friday and Alison is normally at work using her genius lawyer skills to save huge corporations.

I wish people did this more, you know, drop in unannounced, but they seem to avoid it London and instead opting for intricate advanced planning, which I am crap at partly because of its intricate nature and partly because you have to do it in advance.

"Surprise," says Alison.
"I'll say, come in, people never stop by for tea anymore."
"Tea?"
"Well, you know a beverage of choice."
"Well my beverage of choice today is a bottle, maybe even a reckless two, of Chablis."

I do a mock stumble backwards in response to Alison's wild suggestion as to be honest I'm stunned. Lunchtime drinking? This is very un-Alison like behaviour. She usually never leaves the office before seven and is totally dedicated to her job. That probably explains the large house and smart new Mini.

"Wow, this is unheard of what gives?"
"Oh it's Friday, I'm owed so many countless days holiday. Besides it's a mercy mission?"
"Mercy mission?"

Suddenly I'm not liking this, it's like the Red Cross is going to turn up with a care package at any second.

"Well I heard about your DIY problems."
"There's a surprise. Don't tell me Susan FM."

Alison puts an index finger to her pursed lips.

"Now you mention it, I think it was that station."
"24/7 that girl is unstoppable. Does everyone know?"

Alison smiles, brings her feet together and gives me a little nod.

"Mmm, afraid so."
"That's depressing."
"Oh Gordie it's not that bad."
"Alison?" I say folding my arms and eyeing her.
"Okay, pretty bad. Now come on."

I head back stairs and slip on my trainers and jacket before locking up the flat and bounding back down the stairs. I have a huge smile on my face, I love to see Alison and even more so when Paul isn't around. I mean Paul is a nice guy, he's the guy that Alison married, but we're not close friends. He's just the guy she met, and married. And you know how it is, no one gets to choose the people their friends date and co-habitat with, which frankly is something of a shame.

"So where are we going?"
"Thought we'd go to that Italian on Highbury Hill."

On the way up to the restaurant we're talking about Johnny and my sister and really I find it hard to help myself from saying "I don't believe it". Unlike me, however, Alison is not at all surprised that Johnny has met someone almost immediately after breaking up with Carolyn - even if it is my sister. She says she thinks they'll make a good couple.

"A good couple? Oh come on."
"They're well suited, you know they are. Besides people like Johnny and your sister are never single long," she says.
"Yeah, but there is long, and there's five minutes. You know I'm not entirely sure how they do it."
"Easier than most people, I think," says Alison.
"Yeah I got that impression."

In the restaurant we order wine and clink glasses as we look over the menu. Alison is savouring hers and says I should be prepared as she is likely to get a little drunk.

"It's lunchtime drinking I just can't do it, but I do enjoy it."
"I know, I like the way that it totally absolves you from doing anything from the rest of the day. I'm already looking forward to the total lack of afternoon activity."
"But Gord you don't do much anyway?"
"True, but I like the feeling all the same."

As we continue to study the menu Alison tells me she has a really good idea for me. As soon as I hear this I know that it is bound to involve some kind of ritual humiliation. Don't ask me how, but other people's ideas and helpful suggestions seem to always involve this.

"Oh I am so not going to like this."
"Oh don't say that, it's a really good idea and you need some good ideas."
"I do?"
"Absolutely."
"Okay, if this is involves going around to some girl's house and asking her why she kicked me out/dumped me, then count me out."
"It's so much better than that."
"Okay, in which department are we talking about?"
"Well...still in the dating department, seriously you should do this."

At this point Alison hands me a piece of paper ripped from a newspaper. I so knew it. It's like an application form for ritual humiliation. Ritual humiliation is so formal these days.

"Speed dating? You have to be kidding."
"Oh come on, you should try it."
"Oh yeah right. Why can't you just introduce me to some of your friends?"
"My friends?"
"Yes," I say brightly thinking Alison will rustle up some attractive brunette friend at a moment's notice.
"Gord, I have done and you either never like them because they are lawyers or you go out with them once and never call them, which means I have to have these awkward conversations."

I'm sad to say this is totally true. I don't know how it happens. I think it has something to do with the fact that these dates are always preceded by the words "oh you'll really like Caroline, she's wonderful...". Of course, Caroline turns out to be wonderfully boring, totally hates me and really did not appreciate the joke about...ah, you get the picture.

"True, I promise never to ask to date any of your friends again."
"That really only leaves Susan..."
"Oh please, not the Susan thing."

The Susan 'thing' for Alison is a big deal. She always goes on about it and is always trying to pair me off with Susan. If Susan ever heard about it she would go nuts. She hates charity dating.

"Well okay, not the Susan thing as you seem to have an aversion to asking out the girl who is obviously perfect for you."
"Thank you."
"So with no Susan that only leaves this."
"Only? Are you sure? It can't have come to this already."

Alison gives me her look again, which is meant to tell me that it has. And I find myself looking at my watch and laughing.

"Speed dating is very trendy."

My interest pricks up when Alison says this. What can I say I'm a little shallow and easily influenced by passing trends and fads.

"Really?"
"Errr, well at least among single people."
"Yeah right."

And I fold my arms, smug marrieds, I swear they are the worst, and now right under my nose my friend Alison, who was the homework help hotline queen at school, has turned into one.

The thing is, I know all about speed dating. Susan has tried to get me to write about it before and Adam has pestered me several times to go along with him. To both parties I have given a firm no as despite all the 'fun' buzz that surrounds it there does also seem to be an air of desperation that goes with it hand in hand. Me? I do many things, but desperation I've just managed to avoid. I know, it’s a shock to me as well.

Conversation with Susan on Speed Dating:

"Gord, how about we commission you to write a feature on speed dating. It's very cool these days. I'm thinking 'Perennially single guy takes speedy route to romance' kind of thing?"
"Perennially single? I am not perennially single."
"Gord you're Mr Perennial 2006. You're the guy with the perennial tattoo and the t-shirt."
"Oh cheers, Suze."
"Sorry Gord, but that does describe you."
"What are you trying to say here?"
"Just that people want to read about people like you - the perennially single type and their efforts at dating."
"Type? Efforts? I'm not liking any of this."
"Yes Gord, that's you, you're a type and you have efforts. Poor efforts, but still efforts. So how about it?"

Susan can be so harsh sometimes.

Conversation with Adam on Speed Dating:

"I think we should go speed dating."
"No, way."
"But I hear the women are really desperate and, well, it's apparently like shooting fish in a barrel."
"Adam you say that like it's a good thing. I'm not sure you're approaching it with the right attitude."
"The right attitude, what are you talking about. I really want to sleep with women, what can I say?"
"Exactly."
"Gord, mate, your problem is that you want the big romance and big romance is dead."

"So will you give it a go?" Alison asks.
"I guess. I'm sure it will make Adam happy, he seems to be under the impression that it's the dating equivalent of a sure thing."
"You know, I think it might be."
"Alison?" I say folding my arms.
"I'm just kidding, you'll have fun."

In the evening when I am crashed out on the couch watching Johnny shoot Islamic bad guy types on Socom III on the TV Susan calls me in something of an agitated state. She says she cannot believe that I have agreed to go speed dating with Adam.

"That's an absolutely terrible idea. Gord you shouldn't lower yourself."
"Lower myself? That's really not the kind of response that I was expecting from you."
"I can't believe Alison suggested it. You'll only end up rejected."
"Rejected? I will?"

I'm having second thoughts suddenly. Alison did not talk about rejection. Humiliation and rejection? Oh boy.

"Definitely rejection, it will be demeaning. You know how you have a fear of humiliation, this will be it."
"Are you totally sure about this?"
"Gord, of course I am. I know people who have gone. No one has anything good to say about it."
"I thought it was socially acceptable, I seem to remember you said it was cool."
"Only for the really desperate, and I've never thought of you as the desperate type."
"Well that's a relief."
"So you promise me, you won't go?"
"No problem," I tell her as I hang up.

It's a total lie, of course, Susan is always calling me desperate. It's like one of her catchphrases - "Gord, you are so desperate". I don't know how many times I've heard that other than a lot. I'm definitely going.

Gordon's Breakfast - 13

2006-07-11T16:10:00.000+01:00

When events occur as momentous as what passed with my sister you just have to tell someone. Predictably when I got home last night, after dinner with Sara, Johnny was nowhere to be seen. An absence I think that was definitely planned out well in advance.

To be honest I'm not very angry and really just a little bit grumpy about it. I do grumpy more than angry. I think it's my natural state.

I'd tried Johnny at work earlier this morning, but couldn't get hold of him. I kept getting his PA. I finally sent him a text message: "I don't believe it. You bastard," but I didn't tell him that I was only kidding, which seemed fair enough.

This got his attention and he texted me straight back, "Definitely be back tonight. Let's talk".

Later, I'm typing away doing a little online research when my email pings to tell me I have new mail. The email is from Adam.

'Bad news': - You're not going to believe this but it has finally happened. It really has".

That's all it says. I'm not entirely sure what he's talking about, not 100% at least, but I have a pretty good idea. I email him straight back.

'Re: Bad News: - "You might have bad news, but I was on the receiving end of the weirdest news in the world last night. It involves Johnny and his new woman."

I know that's about all it will take to get Adam straight on the phone and right on cue the phone starts ringing around a minute after I hit send.

"Tell me the details, that guy hardly pauses, how do you think he does it?" Adam says breathlessly.
"Well if you do a survey it's apparently oodles of charm and good looks."
"Yeah, I get that bit, I was talking apart from the obvious."
"Adam there is no apart from the obvious. I thought you knew that."
"Damn, okay hit me with it."
"Okay, but you will never work out who he's been doing it with."

To be honest I feel really bad about that last sentence, 'who he's been doing it with'? I mean really, my grandmother would certainly not approve. I'm not sure my sister would entirely approve either, but that is strictly her problem.

"Not with Susan? You're kidding. I wouldn't have thought she would have gone for Johnny? I didn't think he was her type."
"What you mean good looking and charming? No that isn't Susan's type at all, you dorkomondus, anyway thankfully it isn't Susan."
"Thankfully?"
"Piss off."
"Okay, Vicki?"
"Nope."
"Carolyn - again, already?"
"Adam you're reaching. Use the force."
"I'm clear out of force energy. Okay so put me out of my misery, Who's the lucky girl?"
"My sister."
"Your sister? Oh, that's errr strange."
"Tell me about it."
"But I guess they did...didn't they a while ago?"
"Rumour has it."
"So no big wedding? Damn, we were going to go and there ware going to be bridesmaids."
"Sorry the bridesmaids are off the menu."
"Do you have a plan to deal with this?"
"Of course, I'll use the usual plan and not think about it."
"Good plan. Just don't think about them together getting sticky."
"Oh please. Anyway, what's your bad news? Is it what I think it is?"
"That's right, you will be pleased to hear that it has finally happened. You doubted me and I told you it would and now it has. I have been made redundant."

I know I shouldn't, and I feel bad immediately afterwards, but I laugh when Adam says this. I should say that I laugh for a very good reason as Adam for as long as I can remember has been telling anyone who will listen that he thinks he might be made redundant.

Whenever I have spoken to Adam it was always one of the first thing he says. Some days he didn't even say hello he just started the conversation, by saying "I think I might be made redundant". It's been like his catch phrase and for a while I was surprised it wasn't one of the first thing he said to people when he met them for the first time ("Hi, I'm Adam, I think I might be made redundant").

It got so bad that a few months back at a dinner party I heard him uttering his favourite line at the other end of the table.

"I think I might be made redundant."

I couldn't help myself and I shot back: "Adam is suffering from Premature Redundancy Ejaculation."

I have no idea where the term Premature Redundancy Ejaculation came from, but I think I hit on something as conversation stopped and dozen or so people broke into howls of drunken laughter. Of course I realised if I'd just shouted the word "ejaculation!" loudly it would have had the same effect.

"What are you going to do?"
"In the immediate future? Go to the pub after that I think I'll join you freelancing, but I don't plan to work in my pyjamas."
"Really you should give it ago."
"I'll actually have to go into other people's offices."
"Well you did say you wanted out."
"True, anyway, talking of women?"
"We were?"
"No, but the subject was bound to come up sooner or later. Women we've dated, are dating or want to date."
"True, which category are we talking about today?"
"Number one, blast from the past. Remember Helen?"
"Of course, cute short blonde, I remember having to listen to her whine on for hours about Leon Trotsky and how the guy was her absolute hero. God, I really liked her," I say in a slight reverie.
"Gord, you dumped her?"
"True, but I dump everyone."
"Also true, and about that strategy?"
"I know not so successful. I think I heard that after university she became an investment banker. So much for the revolution."
"She was nice though. She has to come near the top of cutest girls you ever dated."
"You know, I think you're right? Is she single?"
"Dream on dude, former revolutionary investment bankers are never single. I bumped into her having lunch with her husband."
"How bad?"
"Pretty bad. She had pearls, a child and a fellow investment banker husband as well. Full package. Her husband had one of those really square haircuts that people completely lacking style and culture seem to gravitate towards. That's what you call a transformation."
"Damn, I could have saved her."
"Saved her?"
"You know from the pearls and the square haircut."
"Yeah, but to do that you would have actually had to keep going out with her and not dumping her? You get that bit right?"
"Fair point," I concede, "there's always a catch to these things."

Later when Johnny arrives home later I am sitting on the floor, back slumped against the couch, shooting zombies. It's the kind of activity, when I am at a loose end, I often find myself doing, so you know, quite often, in case you were wondering.

I don't even look up when Johnny enters the room. He texted me a minute or before like some rogue agent with the message; "I'm coming in, hold you're fire". See what he's like? He's such a joker and he has a silver Audi TT. There's just no feeling bad about some people.

I did considering giving him a hard time, but I'm really not sure it's worth the effort, besides, I'm only halfway through this level and concentration is paramount. Seriously, these zombies are more trouble then they look.

Johnny stands over me with his hands on his hips.

"Frankly this is disappointing, I had this idea that you would be home waiting for me ready to pounce," Johnny says as he drops his bag down and drops himself into an armchair.
"I considered pouncing damn, but I got distracted."
"Your life is a distraction."
"You mean dream right?"
"Errr, nightmare?"
"Oh that explains last week then, cool I'd been wondering."

We both laugh at this at which point I am gnawed to death by a pack of flesh eating zombies. My life, I tell you.

"Fuck, I can't believe it, dead again."

I throw the control across the floor and lie down flat on the carpet staring up at the ceiling.

"Besides I had other stuff on my mind, you know, as well as pouncing."
"Yeah and about that," Johnny says nodding.
"Johnny mate what have you done? I mean seriously My Sister? Let me say that again, my sister? You realise of course that you've entirely ruined my relationship with her, right?"
"Ruined?"
"You know we never spoke ...and now."

I throw my hands up in the air. Johnny smiles.

"Yeah awfully sorry, inconsiderate behaviour I know. I swear it was never my intention of bringing you and your sister closer together."
"You say, anyway what's your excuse? Have you suddenly developed a taste for acid tongued blondes?"
"Funny you should say that."
"Yeah, and how funny exactly?"
"Oh pretty funny. I need a beer," he says getting up and walking through to the kitchen.
"Oh there has to be a rule?"
"A rule?"
"Yes, just promise me you will never, and I mean ever, talk about your new relationship with me?"
"Deal."
"Oh and one more thing?"
"One more thing?"
"Yeah, I want to drive your car," I say as I hit the restart button.
"My car? Your driving skills are terrible, I've seen you on GTA."
"Johnny mate?"
"Okay," he says putting his hands in the air, "you can drive my car."

Gordon's Breakfast - 12

2006-07-06T18:36:00.000+01:00

When I arrive at the restaurant Sara is already there and I can see her sitting in the window. There is a bottle of white wine on ice by her table and she already has a glass in front of her.

She doesn't notice me from the street watching her as I walk in through the front door. A waiter in shirt and waistcoat asks if he can help me and all I do is point towards my sister. He nods at me smiles and moves off, weaving his way through the tables, swaying side to side among the young couples all leaning close and talking in muted tones.

"You look like you've been here for a while," I tell her as I sit down.

Sara smiles, doesn't say anything instead she just starts to pour me some wine. She takes a cigarette from her packet of Marlboro Lights and strikes a match.

"Jack hates the smoke. Absolutely hate it," she says.
"That's a healthy attitude, must be the rugger bugger in him. Might be time for you to crush out the filthy habit, to ensure future matrimonial harmony."
"Oh I rather had another solution in mind," Sara says archly.
"So much for young love," I say.
"Now that you mention young love it was rather the subject I wanted to talk about."

Now she really has my interest. This is so unlike my sister.

"I only mentioned it as I had been under the, admittedly daft, impression that you and Jack who are about to be married are desperately in love."

Sara looks at me as if I'm quite mad. She sips on her wine and she shivers as the alcohol goes down. Sara looks away for a moment.

"Okay take a deep breath I'm going to tell you what it is that I brought you here for."

So I do, I take a deep breath.

"There's not going to be any wedding."

I'm not entirely sure that I heard her correctly, but I know damn well that I did. OMG. She is planning to kill my mother after all.

"Wow."
"I've called it off."
"Jesus, are you kidding me?"
"I decided weeks ago."
"But last week our mother was still under the impression that she was master mind of a soon to be Hertfordshire wedding spectacular."
"I know I've been putting it off."
"What were you waiting for? The right moment?"
"After a fashion."
"What fashion?"

My sister smiles at this.

"The non-marriage fashion."
"Jesus how was she?"
"You know really rather good all things considered. She's sort of taken over organising the cancellation."
"Well I guess if you can't actually organise a wedding a wedding cancellation is the next best thing. Just one question though, uh why?"
"I don't want to get married."
"But you said yes?"
"I know and I didn't want to get married then either. If you stay in a relationship for long enough to find out you will realise that you just get bumped along into these things. You reach this point and it suddenly becomes an issue when someone drops down onto one knee..."

I interrupt her. I can't help myself, I'm kind of curious about the whole process.

"Jack got down onto one knee?"
"Looking for tips?"
"Not exactly, I'm just interested, changing mores and attitudes, that's all."
"He did. It was nice, but somehow it only makes it harder to say no. It's hard to make a decision on the spot and even harder to make one on the spot if you have been having nagging doubts."
"But you said yes?"
"I know, I said yes and I said yes because I thought that saying yes was a precursor to breaking up.

I'm stunned, who talks like that? A precursor to breaking up?

"A precursor to breaking up?"
"I wasn't ready for the whole marry me or leave me discussion, which is what it would have become. It was a stupid thing to do. Nobody's perfect," she says dryly.
"Hang on let me get that straight you said yes when Jack asked you to marry him as you thought getting married would be a 'precursor to breaking up'? That makes absolutely no sense, you know that right?"
"Surely you've heard about marriage being the road to divorce?"

Of course I've heard of the road, but only like I've heard of Route 66 and Highway 101. I always thought it was a joke made by couples who were about to take the plunge, but who were nervous as opposed to unwilling.

"I thought I would be able to end it sooner," Sara adds.
"And?"
"Oh it sort of dragged," and she shrugs as if to say 'oh well'.
"What so that's it. Goodbye and so long Jack?"
"That's right. Jack has hit the road."

I shake my head unable to stop myself smiling as my sister starts to hum 'Hit the road Jack'. My sister? She's a total wag.

"Oh, there's one other thing."
"How can there be more?"
"Oh Gordon there's always more."
"Really? No one said there was going to be more. Let's recap: you've dumped your boyfriend, cancelled your wedding, broke Jack's heart. No, there can't be anymore."
"Oh and yet there...besides you don't even like Jack."
"Hey, that's unfair!"
"The first thing you said to him was 'so you play rugby', and then you proceeded to write him off as a dullard. I can read you like a book."
"Oh yeah what kind?"
"Boys own, of course, so don't try to spin me about Jack."
"Okay, so I wrote him off, but I feel bad about that and I'm re-evaluating my position. Is it too late to be a friend of Jack's?"
"Way too late."
"But I want to stand up at one of those meetings and say 'I was a friend of Jack cruelly dumped by my sister'."
"They do that at funerals Gordon."
"Really? Are you sure? Okay, maybe I'm not ready to be a friend of Jacks."
"I rather thought not."
"So what else is there? I mean what else could you possible do to the guy?"
"It's not about Jack."
"It's not about Jack?"
"No, I met someone else."
"I knew it."
"You did not."

I so didn't, but let's gloss, but I'm sure deep down if I had thought about it I would have known. I would have consulted The Rule Book and TRB says there is always someone else.

"Don't tell me it's a married man?"
"Oh please, he's not married."
"Phew."
"Phew to you, too. Besides I'm only 28 and so far too young to be running around with married men. It's very straight forward, he's single and he's perfectly lovely."

Why on earth is she telling me any of this. She never tells me anything. To be honest, I'm starting to get a slightly uneasy feeling.

"This is nice to hear, but I have to say this sharing is a little unlike you."
"You never ask."
"Funny."
"Okay, you're right and to be honest I wouldn't have told you this time but..."
"Oh there is always a but, did I ever tell you that I have a thing about buts? No one ever says, but 'there's good news as well'."
"Very true."
"I know I am not going to like this. Am I? I mean on a scale of one to ten?"
"Well I'd say eleven."
"Eleven? Oh boy."
"Okay if you insist."

I have a sudden change of heart and start waving my arms in front of her face like I am trying to stop traffic.

"No wait hang on a sec. I think I'd like it better if you let me down gently. Give me a clue."
"A clue? Okay, let's see. Oh I know, Johnny and I have been sleeping together."

Somehow as bright as Sara is I don't think she understands the concept of the clue.

"Sara, that's not a clue. That's the whole truth."

And I'm about to say something along the lines of that she can't be sleeping with Johnny as he's only just become single and he's my new flat mate when I just think about how he was in the pub the other evening. So cagey. Johnny is an absolute dog.

"Oh Sara really, I like my friends separate from family."
"Oh, but Gordon, you know I don't consider us family. You know I've always said we're both adopted."
"Funny."
"Well, there's not need to worry I'm not quite ready for another wedding just yet. "
"I don't believe it, we share a flat and I only said to him the other day I hardly see him, man, but you on the other hand, I guess you can account for his 'lost days', right?"
"Only the nights I'm afraid," Sara says smirking.
"Oh please, I get it, you're funny, but really stop."
"Okay."
"Look, don't you have any of your own friends? I mean what has it come to if you're dating my friends?"
"I know, and you have a very good point there. I never thought it would come to this. It's as much a surprise to me as it is to you. You never struck me as the kind of person who would have attractive friends."

I then have a shocking thought. There are definitely going to have to be some rules.

"Look there's a rule, okay?"
"Already?"
"Yeah, already. You cannot possibly stay at my flat. I mean no way."
"Gordon about that rule?"

Damn.

"Jesus, okay, so there's no rule, fine," I say crossing my arms and throwing my arms in the air.
"No rule is definitely better."

Gordon's Breakfast - 11

2006-06-29T20:01:00.000+01:00

Like I said, the good thing about the whoops incident was that no one else knows about it. I never mentioned it anyone and I'm pretty sure Susan didn't. I have no idea why I said whoops or what difference it made and there you have it. And before you ask, no whoops, I did not do it again.

"What nothing at all, not once? You must have?"
"I swear, never."
"Gord, mate, everyone knows about the whoops incident."

I'm shocked, how on earth can everyone know about that. It's a total MI6 like secret.

"You do, how is that possible, who could have possibly told you?"
"Errr you did, immediately after it happened, you talked about for hours non stop when we got home from the club."

This is a totally mystery, I don't remember any of this.

"Are you sure? I don't remember any of this."

Adam laughs at this point, which is never a good indication at moments like this.

"That's because you insisted we drink that bottle of Tequila. You completely passed out and we found you asleep on the floor in the morning."
"You know, now you mention this, it does sound horribly familiar in a general and non-specific way. Did I make you swear never to let me drink Tequila again?"
"Oh, you sure did."
"I have absolutely no memory of that, damn I thought the whoops incident was totally secret. Does everyone know about it?"
"I would have thought so," Johnny says.

Adam laughs hard at this.

"See I told you Gord was a complete idiot," he says looking to Johnny, "They have had a historic moment, but still why haven't you? Amaze us with a sane explanation."
"It's what the world wants to know," says Johnny.
"Susan's one of my closest friends, why would I? I mean we are together all the time."
"That's my point," says Adam.
"You have a point suddenly? When did that happen? Was there a point meeting? Did someone out of the kindness of their heart give you a point?"
"Yeah, I have a point."

Then he pauses like he's thinking up some diabolical plan.

"Let's try this another way. Think of this as self help. Describe to us now your cardboard cut out perfect woman. Be honest as we could ask just about anyone on the street the question: 'excuse me, but could you tell me what Gord is looking for in a woman?' and they would be able to answer. So for this to work absolute honesty is required on your part."
"Easy 5'5, 5'6, although I don't mind just taller."
"Oh you mean like Larissa Snowe," says Johnny laughing, "just taller than you that is."
"No I don't mean like Larissa Snowe."
"Okay we've done height, which ranges from Susan's just shorter than to Larissa's just taller. What else?"
"Okay, slim, brunette, fair skin, big brown or green eyes, medium sized lips, small eyebrows, smart, wordy funny, and oh yeah I guess if we're being brutally honest, not flat chested - I feel bad for saying that last one, but you said honest right?"

Adam nods, munches on some Doritos and nods.

"Absolutely acceptable. Some people can deal with the washboard, but some people can't. I like it - a lot. What can I say? Personally, I'm fine with the wash board chest, but you on the other hand..."
"You promised that you had a point?"
"Oh and I do, but really that's my point right Johnny?"

Johnny smiles, shuffles the cards.

"That is his point Gordon."
"You lost me."
"Well you just described to us your perfect woman right? A bit of Winona Ryder with a touch of Ally Sheedy and maybe a dab of Kate Beckinsale? Thrown in for good measure."
"That's possibly stretching it. I actually want to date a real girl."
"And we're talking about a real girl. The point is that you just described Susan, more or less, you know give or take and even though Susan is more or less your perfect woman you refuse to ask her out? What Johnny and I want to know is why?"

I look at Adam like he's totally barking. I mean what a stupid question. How could I go out with Susan? I'd have no one to talk to and hangout with. It would be insane.

"We've been over this. Susan's my friend, that's why."
"Lets put this another way, when was the last time you met you ideal woman, you know someone you thought was a vague if not exactly perfect approximation of the girl you would love to go out with?"
"You know I don't think I have. I mean I thought Rachel, and Larissa right at the beginning ... used to make me sort of dizzy, but she did dump me three times, so I guess really if it comes down to it I haven't."
"That's interesting," says Adam nodding, "So lets look at this another way, looking at Susan in a completely neutral way, how many of the qualities you described earlier does she possess? I mean we're just talking on paper here, you know hypothetically?"
I shrug, fidget, on paper?

"On paper? Okay, there are a lot of similarities - but she's a friend."
"So ask her out then, she'll be your girl-friend and if you don't eventually someone else will and you know what will happen then don't you? Right now you see her five times a week? Or is it seven? You two live in each other's flats. You moved to the same god damn street for Christ's sake. But some day not all that far away she's going to meet some guy. They'll start dating and before you know it they'll be talking about moving in. Five minutes later, in the well worn tradition of early thirty something, they'll be standing at the alter and after that your five times a week of Susan will be down to once a week, then once a month. Before you know it you'll be standing there thinking to yourself 'you know I don't think I've seen Susan for years'. That's the future Gord and the only way to avoid it now is to ask out Susan."
"Last time, for the group I am not going to ask out Susan. I can't do anything about the future. Future boy I'm not. I hope it doesn't play out like you said, but then if it does then I guess so it goes."

Adam does a little whistle, shrugs and looking over to Johnny.

"You heard that right?"
Johnny nods, "Yeah, I did. I don't believe I heard it, but sadly I did. Gord mate you're a total fool. It is the most obvious and natural thing in the world to do. I cannot believe you won't do it. It's stupidity on a grand scale. And you wonder why you're single all the time."
"I am not single all the time."

And to be honest, I really didn't mean to sound as testy as I did.

"Oh really," Johnny says again, "other than Larissa, which was what four years ago, virtually prehistoric, as far as I can recall, you haven't lasted more than a few dates with any one. As I said single all the time."
"Okay, so my dating record has not been perfect. Look, what can I say I have not met the right girl. Besides I'm picky, they're picky, everybody's picky, what can I say? The world is big with the pickiness."
"You can say," Johnny says, "that you will ask out Susan."
"No and for the last time no."
"What you won't even give it ago?" Adam pushes.
"NO! Come on guys, read the sign, the sign says time to move on."
"So last time just so we're clear here. You are never ever going to ask Susan out?"

I think Adam must have a blockage. I don't know who many more times I can say it so I say it again one last time for Adam's benefit.

"I swear I will never ever ask Susan out."

Gordon's Breakfast - 10

2006-06-23T17:08:00.000+01:00

Adam and Johnny are sitting in the pub attempting to play poker when I get there with drinks stacked up around the table.

"Where've you been? Poker doesn't work with two people."
"Yeah, sorry about that, I just had a flurry of phone activity. Kind of weird."
"Interesting? Any women involved?" Adam asks.
"There were as a matter of fact, but not the kind you would be interested in."
"Hey, don't rule them out, who are we talking about?"
"My mother followed by my sister."
"Okay," Adam says, "feel free to rule them out."
"Your sister?" Johnny says, "unusual for you."
"Yeah, rarity in itself I know, but then really weird, she suggested that we actually meet up and have dinner. Tell me, how weird?"

And I raise my arms up and open my hands.

"Very," says Adam.
"You two should talk more," says Johnny looking down at his cards.
I eye Johnny, curiously.
"Why do you say that?" I ask him.
"That's obvious," says Adam laughing, "He's had a thing with her."
"Hey! I'm sitting in the room, if you don't mind."
"Well he has."
"It was a small thing though," I say, "Wasn't it?"
Johnny nods, "Pretty sure it was."
"Besides, it was definitely a one off. It should be like a rule you're friends should not be allowed to date a friend's sister. I mean, just too weird for words."
"Do you think?" says Johnny.
"Yes I think. Too weird, it's like too close for comfort. Family and friends should all be kept separate. To avoid any unnecessary entanglements."
"But it's good news to hear you two are spending time together."
"You think? I don't know, but something is definitely up. I think she's going to tell me something."
"Must be big," says Adam.
"It's what I'm thinking."
"And bad," he adds.
"Oh definitely bad. Big and bad."
"You don't think?"
"What?"
"Well the wedding? You don't think she's going to call it off."
"You know that was my first thought, but I don't see it. Her and Jack they are totally solid. Besides it would literally kill my mother. She has put the last year of her life into organising this. It's like her life's grand work. I don't think even my sister would contemplate killing my mother."
"Well the only one who knows you sister here is Johnny, what do you reckon Johnny? Is the wedding off?" Adam asks him.
"Sara does exactly what Sara wants to," Johnny says shuffling his cards.
We get some drinks and start a new game throwing in two pence coins as chips. None of us are very good, but to be honest the cards are really just a distraction.
"Where's Susan tonight anyway?" Adam asks me.
"No idea, besides I don't keep her social diary."

Adam and Johnny both laugh when I say this, which I think is completely uncalled for.

"What? I don't. Contrary to popular opinion we don't go everywhere together. I think she's gone out on some Mademoiselle evening. I get the impression that just about all of the women who work on that magazine are single. Weird I think it does something to them."
"And we're sitting here three guys?" Adam says.
"We might have a supply problem on the female side, but I believe we are having a good time."
"I agree," says Johnny.
"You would," says Adam, "you've just come out of a long relationship. It's well known that men who have just got out of long term relationships are less interested in immediately meeting new women."
"I wouldn't go that far," says Johnny taking a slow sip of his drink.

Adam and I both look at him. Something is definitely up.

"Oh really," I say.
"Sounds like Johnny has a confession to make, tell us more mate," says Adam.
"No confession."

Johnny doesn't say anything else, but then he doesn't have to as his face says it all. Johnny has definitely met someone new.

"So who is she?" I ask him, "Do we know her?"
"You'll meet her soon enough and then you can make up your own mind."
"You must have started this when you were still with Carolyn. And you call me a dog."
"Carolyn and I were over. As you're so fond of saying we had absolutely nothing in common. Gord mate, you were right."
"What about some details then Johnny?" Adam asks.
"Yeah, you're being very secretive, what's with?" I ask him.
"It's tricky that's all," he says.
"Where did you meet her anyway?"
"Like I said it's a little tricky."
"But she isn't married right?" I ask him.

He shakes his head.

"But she's seeing someone isn't she?" says Adam.
"You could at least tell us why it's tricky. Too much suspense and mystery is not good for the soul."
"I will, just not just yet."

I shake my head in mock disappointment.

"This girl sounds incredible high maintenance, I mean seriously."
"New subject," Johnny says shuffling the cards.
"Okay," says Adam, "But we want full details at the appropriate time. I have a question for you?" he says pointing to me.
"Me?"
"Yeah you, lets continue the relationship theme."
"Well that's easy enough. I don't have one."
"True, but as we all know you could do if you wanted quite easily."
"Uh?"

Johnny smiles, he seems to know what Adam is talking about when I don't have a clue.

"Not so cryptic what are you talking about?"
"Okay," he starts, "we were talking about her earlier."

I scratch my head.

"We were talking about my sister?"

Johnny shakes his head in dismay at this suggestion.

"After that idiot."
I still have no idea."
"Susan you fool."
"Don't be stupid," I say.
"Come on have you ever made a pass at Susan?"
"No," I say putting my hands up.

Okay, to be honest, that isn't strictly true, but it wasn't exactly a pass, it was more of an incident. To be more exact it was the whoops incident.

The whoops incident happened along time ago and really I was never all that sure what to make of it and really it is ancient history. We were out celebrating my 28th birthday in a club at Kings Cross. It was hot, we were trashed, the music was thundering. We were thrashing around crashing into each other hours into a long night still holding plastics glasses of lager, which were being crushed underfoot on the slippery wet dance floor.

I can't even remember who was there, although Johnny and Adam were certainly in the group. What I do is that remember Nirvana were playing and Susan and I were dancing close together shouting the words out to each other, "I feel stupid and contagious, Here we are now, Entertain us" and holding on to each other's arms dancing closer and closer still jumping in time to the music as we sang "hello, how low?".

Then something happened. There was this brief moment, a split second, where our eyes fell in synch, and a hazy drunken euphoria took over as we stepped together and started hungrily kissing. It was one of those moments. No one said anything and we both started it.

We didn't move, we were in the middle of the dance floor, with people sliding and turning all around us. I don't remember noticing anyone and I'm not sure how long it lasted, probably not that long, it just seemed longer, and when we broke away I don't know why, but I didn't know what else to say and Susan didn't say anything and as we cooled, as the music changed, the beat slowed, and the heat of the moment sapped away, we were left standing there like a pause waiting for a sentence to start, and then I said it.

"Whoops."

Susan looked at me.

"Whoops?"
"Errr, yeah, whoops."
"Whoops," she repeated flatly.
"Yeah, whoops."
"Right whoops."

And that was it we danced off, went to the bar and carried on for a little while longer until we all got a taxi back to the house and we sat up for hours longer. Nothing else happened that night and neither Susan or I mentioned it in the morning and never again afterwards.

It was just the whoops incident, not a pass, just a one time thing, and no one else knows about it. So why come clean now?

Gordon's Breakfast - 9

2006-06-16T11:32:00.000+01:00

I am just on my way out to meet Johnny and Adam in the pub to find out about Johnny's break-up with Carolyn when the phone starts ringing.

It's my mother. I know her ring, I swear. It's like her signature tune. I could go on that show and I would be able to say: "I'll name that caller in three Bob". My mother's attitude is that the telephone is just another system to crack and you can actually crack it if you just let the receiver ring off the hook. It's like an endurance thing for her.

This is a weird one. My mother has something of an odd request for me. She wants me to call my sister. I know that doesn't sound odd, but we just never talk.

My sister is my mother's major focus this year, he's been busily helping plan Sara's wedding to her perfect boyfriend Jack, and she's also the main source of news coming my way about my sister's movements. For instance when my sister got engaged it was my mother who told me.

She rang me on an evening just like this, which I would have been surprised at if for the fact that my for my last birthday my sister sent me a text message.
"She's been incredibly busy telling people about it," my mother told me.

"Well I think she could have called, that would have been nice."
"Well you know she has work as well."
Oh did I mention? My sister has an is a MBA armed management consultant. My mother loves my sister's job as much as my sister does. Equally my mother was less thrilled when I quit mine to go freelance.
"Oh but Gordon your sister did say for me to give you a message. She says she would rather you didn't come on your own."
"You're joking, right?"
"No, you know what she's like. She's worried that you'll create an uneven number."

Uneven number? That's the worst lie I ever heard. What she's worried about is that she'll have to point me out to her friends. "That's my brother over there, he's on his own and still rides around on a bike. I know his hair is receding".

The weird thing is that my sister's attitude to the wedding is (in comparison to my mother at least) somewhat pragmatic, even indolent, and I get the impression sometimes that she agreed to, rather than embraced, the idea of marriage.

I have to admit when I first heard I was a little surprised. A few months previously when I had asked my sister, as she drove the two of us to our aunt's funeral at (great) speed along winding country roads, how it was going with Jack she hadn't exactly been boiling over with enthusiasm.

Gunning the engine of her Audi she turned to me and said: "Well he's hardly the love of my life."

I have to admit I was non-plussed by this answer.

"Then why are you with him then?"

Sara laughed, lifted a hand from the wheel and brushed her ash blonde hair back, her driving makes me more than just a little nervous at the best of times and the idea of getting a lift to a funeral with my sister initially sounded like someone's idea of a bad joke ("Mother, you want Sara to give me a lift?"). Sadly I didn't see my mother agreeing to a Buffyesque tombstone inscription: 'Killed on the way to a funeral, talk about being all ironical'.

"I like him, we have fun together. It's just that the earth doesn't move. That's what it is. Despite what women might have told you Gordon it's what we want. We want the earth to move, even if it's just a little, it doesn't have to be a seismic shift."
"Careful Sara you're making yourself out to be a died in the wool romantic, you're disappointing me."
"Oh please, I have high expectations that's all. I have the first class degree and I have the MBA and the perfect job. I think I deserve the man to match. There's nothing romantic or old fashioned about that its just math, that's all, I want it to be like this Audi: nice looking and with plenty of power to match."
"Now you're sounding like a bloke."
"Grow up Gordon."
"Working on that one."
"Better work harder older brother."
"So if that's all true why aren't you out there looking for the perfect man then? Rather than Jack who to quote you doesn't make the earth doesn't move."
"Sad truth is, and don't take this at all personally, men really aren't built to meet such high expectations. It's rather unfortunate and to be honest I feel cheated."

I wasn't at all sure how serious she was being when she said this as she was smiling brightly most of the time as she spoke, but that's why I like my sister so much: she's brutally honest. Her and Susan get on like house on fire. I just worry that one day they will burn the place down.

I digress, my mother wants me to call my sister.

"Your sister has been acting very strangely. You don't know what's going on do you?"

"Sorry no idea, you know what she's like."
"Yes, of course, but she's been more so."
"What do you mean more so?"
"Well just hard to pin down."
"Hard to pin down? Maybe she's been working hard. You know she's totally obsessive about her job."

I feel a smile of minor reassurance waft down the line, my mother loves my sister's job as much as my sister does.

"That could be it, I suppose. Maybe you could speak to her?"
"You want me to call her? You know she won't tell me anything. She doesn't even give me her direct line at work, I always have to speak to her assistant who puts me on hold. To be honest its kind of humiliating."

My mother mulls this for a second.

"True."
"I'm telling you its work."
"Mmm, but would you call her anyway. I think you'll catch her if you try now."
"Now? Are you kidding? I was just heading out."
"It'll only take you a minute and I'm sure she'd love to hear from you."

She makes it sound like I'm a distant relative. Wait? That's exactly what I am.

"Okay, I'll call her and if she tells me anything I'll call you straight back, but I wouldn't wait by the phone."
"I'm sure it's nothing, but you know I appreciate it."

I say goodbye to my mother and then spend about twenty minutes trying to track down my sister's telephone number.

"Hey Sara."
"Gordon?"

My sister says my name slowly showing no more surprise than is strictly necessary, but definitely intoned in her voice is the question 'what on earth are you doing calling me for?'.
"Unexpected, I know and I apologise in advance for breaking our covenant eschewing voice contact."
"Now I know why we don't talk. I so rarely have any idea what you're talking about."
"Yeah, well I'd been thinking."
"And?"
"Well, I was talking to...
"Mother and?"
"That's weird as you already sound like you know she thinks something's up?"
"Do I?"
"Oh definitely, Sara what have you been up to?"
"I...well...nothing," and she pauses, recovers even.

More weird. My sister never gets flustered, absolutely never. She is usually as cool as winter ice, seriously. And for a second there it sounded like she was going to tell me something - also pretty unusual.

"Nothing going on, it's just work, you know how it is. Oh that's right you don't. You took the novel approach of resigning your job in order that you could stay at home more."

And there she goes, snapping back to her old self in a matter of seconds.

"I'm a freelance journalist, which is a job."
"Freelance, that always sounds quite grand and mercenary, but the reality...well that's rather more mundane isn't it?"
"You're sweet, I mean it's what people say about you, which is just what everyone wants in a little sister."
"I'm joking."
"You don't say, but I think you rather dodged the question there. There isn't anything you want to tell me is there?"

Sara laughs when I say this.

"Oh really Gordon how likely is that?"
"It would be unusual I admit, but lets say we're growing."
"Growing, there's a thought. Does that mean you'll get a girlfriend and stop living like a thirty something student?"
"It seems unlikely, I've just acquired a new flat mate."
"I heard about that."
Already, that is a surprise.
"Really, who from?"

There's a slight, almost undetectable pause, and I perk up, as that is weird, Sara takes no interest in what's going on in my life period.

"From Susan."
"That was fast."
"Well you know how we girls like to gossip. She just said Johnny had moved in with you. It's terrible he's split up with his girlfriend."
"Yeah, terrible. I take it your wedding plans are all thundering ahead?"
"Mmm, last I heard."
"Last you heard? You're not exactly kicking to get down the aisle are you?"
"I don't think they allow kicking."
"Really? That's sad to hear."
"Isn't it just."
"So what's going on then? I mean something is so going on."

Sara pauses again and we both just sit on the line and I get the feeling again that she is thinking about telling me something.

"Oh you know how women get in the run up to their 'big day'. The nerves, they just take over."

This just makes me laugh, my sister doesn't have any nerves, and she sounds resolutely bored talking about the whole thing.

"Yeah, I know how most women get, but I have no idea how you get."
"What you mean none at all?"
"Absolutely."
"We should meet up and catch up."
"We should?"

This is very strange. In Denmark right now something is definitely rotten. As well as not talk the other thing we definitely don't do is meet up. It's rule number three.

"We can have dinner. We'll be very grown up. I think it'll be nice. We can start a new tradition. What about next Wednesday evening? Islington? Are you free?"
"Yeah, Wednesday's cool."
"It's agreed then. I'll see you then."

I sit there on the couch for a moment just looking at the phone. It's like the beginning of an X-Files episode. This is definitely a case for Mulder and Scully. I'm just trying to work out now which one of us is going to be abducted by aliens. Damn, it's bound to be me.

Gordon's Breakfast - 8

2006-06-08T16:49:00.000+01:00

I spend the of the morning trying to finish off my men and yoga piece, which is for Mademoiselle the women's magazine that Susan works for, but to be honest I'm still having trouble coming up with a conclusion.

After a couple of hours wondering about this and pottering around the flat I call Susan for advice. When she answers the phone Susan does her jumping straight to the subject you want to talk about thing, which is always kind of uncanny.

"Hey Suze."
"You're calling me about men and yoga aren't you?"
"You know that's just uncanny, how do you do it?"
"Well let's see? You promised me it would be here this morning and it's not."
True, I forget these small details. Susan has an excellent memory, which she uses to spring well placed traps.
"Hey, I know, and I'm right on schedule."
"Gord its 11:45, that's hardly right on schedule."
"Hey, it's still morning."
"Technically speaking, so tell me about yoga."
"Well here's the thing. My thesis is that guys go to yoga for one reason only - yoga teachers are hot. I've tried to dress it up, but errr that's it."
"I despair, really I do. Is your yoga teacher, what's the word you used? Oh yes, is she 'hot' Gord?"

I just smile at this mostly, I'm sorry to admit, because I have an image of my yoga teacher. Yes she is hot. What can I say, she's this super toned, 5'8 brunette who can do the most amazing things. The other one is like a blonde version, with more or less, give or take, the same MO.

"Gord are you still there?"
"Yes, yes, sorry, I meant to say attractive, but the teenager in me escaped. Sadly they both are, but they're also I fear a bit too much of the hippy chanting types for me. They do long sojourns to the sub continent where there's more chanting. I have to tell you Suze, frankly something of a relief as otherwise I would have to hit on them, one after the other, which would no doubt be deeply humiliating and not to mention embarrassing if I got turned down."
"But what about if your yoga teacher said yes? You could end up married to your yoga teacher and have lots of children with great karma."
This I have to laugh at, Susan is always marriage projecting on me ("what about if you dated X you'd have kids with fabulous cheekbones").
"Suze how likely is that exactly?"
"Oh I'd say your chances are a zillion to one."
"That good, huh?"
"That good, but I just wanted you to know that it's okay for a boy like you to dream the impossible dream."
"Cool, always wanted to dream that."
"Well dream on."
"You know this is what I always tell people, Suze is always there for me in such a good way, it's what I like most about our friendship."
"Oh me too," says Susan and we're both laughing, "besides I know you'll do it, I know you'll ask one of them out, I can tell."
"There is no chance of that happening."
"How much?"
"Are you serious?"
"Yeah, shall we say £20? And if you do you can write a "I fell for/dated my yoga teacher" feature and give us all tantric insight."
"To be strictly honest tantric insight it not my thing."
"You say, anyway, feature wise Gord you know that Mademoiselle readers don't have boyfriends who lust after their yoga teachers. They're all too cool and they're girlfriends are leggy beauties who do not condescend to smile at ordinary mortals," she says.

I think for a moment Susan is going to laugh or indicated that this is in someway a joke, but then I mentally slap myself Susan doesn't actually joke about this kind of stuff. It's actually true and, to be honest, it scares me.

"No problem would that be Kate's (who is the editor) official line on men, yoga and Mademoiselle?"
"The boyfriends of Mademoiselle readers are spiritually enriched by yoga in the same way they are by Helmut Lang and Paul Smith. Write it like it is Gord won't you?"

Of course I knew this was the answer, but sometimes it's nice to check.

"Oh other thing, have you heard my exciting news?"
"Of course, Gord, it's fantastic, I'd been saying for ages you should get a flatmate for absolutely ages, you never listen to me though."

This is a total lie, well partly. True I never listen to Susan, but she has never mentioned me getting a flatmate before. I've been saying that for ages? That's Susan's version of 'I told you so'.

"So Gord how do you feel about it?"
"Well you know Suze I think I feel pretty good. It'll be good to have Johnny around again, but I do worry that it will be like regressing somehow. You know going backwards."
"Back to the future," Susan says, "retro is so fashionable."
"No, Suze, more like back to the past - you know when I had flatmates."
"Gord it will be good for you. I've been concerned for ages that you were getting all recluse like. I've been saying to people at work 'Gord is getting all recluse and hermit like living on his own'."
"Yeah, I heard that, please tell me you don't really say that, you're joking right?"
"About the hermit bit. Yeah."
"Suze, how can I be a recluse? You're here all the time?"
"True, but Gord I don't count. I'm only there to take advantage of your collection of Buffy box sets and load your music collection onto my iPod."
"Suze I hate to point this out, but you live on your own as well."
"I know, but women are much better at building complex support networks than men," she says matter of fact.
"And you read that in which magazine precisely?"
"I'm serious."
"What about the complex support networks?"
"Yeah about those."
"Oh right, that must be why you spend so much time at my place."
"Between boyfriends Gord. It's a perfectly legitimate explanation."
"Of course, you're like a resting actress. I get that, I knew you had a marvellously good reason stashed away sometimes, which is why you kiss strange guys at New Year's. Frankly, I would rather be a hermit."
"You promised you wouldn't mention that again, remember?"

It's true, I did say this, but really the story is so amusing that I think it would be a crime not to share it.

In the run up to midnight when it became increasingly apparent that Alison and Paul had not invited a selection of tall dark and handsome men for Susan ("not even one, that is so poor") she declared that she would kiss just about anyone.

"It's New Year, I swear I'll kiss absolutely anyone."
"Absolutely anyone?"
"Dream on Gord it has to be a guy," Susan said crossing her arms.
"Okay what about that guy over there."

I pointed to Mr nose and forehead.

"He's definitely unattached. Sure he's a candidate for surgery. That nose sticks out further than something that sticks out a long way and his forehead has that strange jutting thing going on, but you did say you would kiss absolutely anyone," and I smiled at her sweetly as I said it.

Susan just smiled back.

"You don't think I will do you?"

I shook my head. No I didn't.

"Not a chance."
"Fine, besides I don't have problem with noses, that's why I like you," she said smartly.

With that off she went. See not exactly my fault, but still I feel responsible.

There he was alone just before midnight when a rather attractive 33 year-old brunette with big brown eyes walked up to him and started a conversation and who minutes later was celebrating New Year's with him in the only way that counts - with a kiss.

Susan then spent the next hour trying to get rid of him. It was, and she was the first to admit it, all her own fault.

"Look," she had finally told him, "it's New Year's Eve people are prone to impetuous kissing. They do that kind of thing."
"Not to me they don't," said the guy with the large nose and forehead and rather indignantly at that.

Susan was philosophical as she considered what he had said before sending him off.

"Yes I can see that now. You should carry a warning. Now go away."

Mr nose and forehead was unsurprisingly rather stunned by this. I mean you would be wouldn't you? As that's the other thing about Susan: she can be so harsh at times and it's tough being on the receiving end of witheringly delivered Susan invective.

Later that evening, Susan blamed me for having absolutely no single male friends that she can go out with.

"As far as I am concerned that was all your fault. I shouldn't have to go around kissing strange men."
"My fault?"
"Absolutely, you don't have any eligible single male friends, which is one of your failings."

It was at that moment that Susan, belatedly made her New Year resolution.

"I have decided that the next person I go out with I have to be desperately in love with."

I couldn't help laughing at this. Susan, like so many people I know, was talking again like a teenager and I told her so.

"You sound like a teenager."
"I guess I am, but, if I'm not desperately in love with them I'll at least have to like them quite a bit. Besides I don't think I have ever been desperately in love and frankly I find that depressing. What about you? Have you ever been desperately in love? I want to know."
"Why?"
"I don't know, but it suddenly seems terribly important."

"Okay, Gord, you're not a recluse."
"That's nice of you to say, thanks."
"Anyway, what do you have planned for the rest of the day?"
"What you mean after I finished the piece?"
"Yeah, after that."

I think about this. I have no plan. I never have a plan, this is why I quit my job to go freelance. I like a lack of plans in my life.

"I thought that I'd take a walk."
"Mmm I always imagined that you spend vast chunks of your day wandering saying hello to all the neighbourhood people: the news agent; the postman; and the grocers. A nod, a friendly grin, a wave of the hand it must make you a regular part of local street life."

I smile at Susan's critique.

"That's not me."

This, of course, a total lie. I will be in conversation with Zahid, who runs the corner shop within the hour. Zahid gives me top advice. Such as last year when I had recently split with a girl I had been dating Zahid cut straight to the chase in the way that only your local newsagent can.

"Ah Mr Gordon I'm wondering if you are having relationship problems?"
"That's scary Zahid, how can you tell?"
"Always when you are looking tired, you are having women problems."
"Well spotted, I am indeed having women problems. I don't think this one is going to last."
"A girl should last for a lifetime."
"A lifetime? Are you sure? The ones I meet don't last quite as long as that. I swear some don't even last through dinner."
"Ah Mr Gordon," Zahid says shrugging.
"Zahid, tell me about it."
"You must find a wife, and then you will have no more women problems."
"A wife?"
"Yes, a wife."
"You know, to be honest that's a little more radical a solution than I had been strictly considering."
"Children will follow and you will have no more time for worrying about women."
"You know to be honest, I'm not exactly liking this picture you're painting."

"Are you sure that's not you Gord?"
"No, and I should get dressed."
"I wish I had your job. I can't believe you are still not properly up."
"Suze that's the point: I don't have a job. We've been over this before, it's why as you put it I'm poor, permanently single and not much of a proposition to any female of the species."
"That's true, I'll see you later."

And with that Susan hangs up and leaves me to my laptop and to shower and think about leaving the house. That's right I might even go to the park.

Gordon's Breakfast - 7

2006-06-02T16:23:00.000+01:00

I've had something of a bizarre morning. Johnny turned up on my doorstep at 7am ringing my buzzer like someone in need of a restraining order. Who is up by 7am?

Oddly he wasn't even on his own. He had bought his suitcases and bags with him, which he was unloading from a black taxi as I looked on bleary eyed in my t-shirt and shorts. Not a pleasant sight for people passing in the street on their way to work.

I was still staring at Johnny's bags and trying to join the dots in a bags, bags, what does it all mean kind of way when he started telling me he needed to move into my flat.

"My flat? Move in?"

It was like one of those movies where a distant relative turns up and says they are coming to stay with you – permanently. You know, exactly like that, but just different, what with the lack of distant relatives these days.

I stood there looking at him as he told me this, watching him and the grumpy medallion wearing pot bellied taxi driver pile up half a dozen assorted bags, trying to workout why he would be doing this. He already shared a perfectly luxurious flat with his very good-looking girlfriend. My flat was small and not luxurious and it did not contain any good-looking women. I mean, come on lets be honest, that's a downside.

Then Johnny explained some more.

"She's thrown you out?"

"More by mutual agreement."

I eyed him and folded my arms. This was more to cover the writing on my t-shirt, which read: "I am not a lesbian". I have no idea where the t-shirt comes from, I swear. And to be fair it was never intended to be seen by the outside world.

"She kicked you out?"
"Okay, she kicked me out, but it's an amicable split."

I continued to eye him. Johnny is never on amicable terms with his ex-girlfriends. It's all frosty and artic waste like and just not a place you want to go visit.

"Amicable?"

Johnny smiled, shrugged, "Well she agreed to stop screaming at me if I left immediately."

"Oh yeah that's amicable."

"Yeah, well, easy come…" and he does some more shrugging as he pays the cab driver who suddenly finds a smile as he takes Johnny's generous tip.
"Dude I'm sorry, she was…"

And I'm lost for words. There are a few facts that you should know about Johnny. He works in advertising, is too good looking for his own good and dates stupidly attractive women who he has nothing at all in common with. Carolyn was typical of this group. She liked horse riding, tennis and going to the country. Johnny doesn't even know where the country is, I swear.

His idea of country pursuits is a visit to Hyde Park. The other thing is that despite not having anything in common with these women other than being good looking, which is (lets be fair) more a factor of Darwinism than commonality, he ends up dating them for between one year and 18 months at a time. At which point one or both of them will realise that their relationship has no future and never did, but at least they always looked good together at dinner parties and other people’s weddings photographs in a way that slightly irks the bride and groom. I could be wrong, but my feeling is that Johnny has been dating Carolyn for sometime more than a year but less than 18 months and we have in fact again arrived at that moment.

"Errr, really attractive."
"Really attractive? That's it?"
"She liked tennis, a lot, right?"
"Yeah, she liked tennis, but you know every blonde I have ever dated, likes tennis, what's that about?"
I shake my head laughing, "No, idea."
"Me neither, grab a bag will you?"

Johnny and I cart the bags upstairs and dump them in my spare room. I make some coffee in the kitchen and we stand there sipping from our cups.

"Oh I forgot to mention…" Johnny starts.
"What?"
"You don't actually mind me moving in do you?"
"You know I did kind of like the whole…"
"Recluse thing?" Johnny supplies.
"Recluse? Hey, I was going to say space. I like the whole having my own space thing."
"Oh, Susan said she thought you were getting all recluse like."

Susan, I swear that girl has no life of her own.

"Susan, man wait until I get her on the phone."
"So bottom line is?"
"Dude, of course, I don't mind. Two player Playstation games are absolutely no good on your own."
"For a second I was going to ask you if you're joking, but then I realised that would be a stupid question."
"True," I nod.
"Cool, anyway, got an early one, better shoot. I'll give you details later. I know how you love a good break-up."
"Hey! That's unfair, I just like good stories, happy endings are way over rated."

Gordon's Breakfast - 6

2006-05-26T10:48:00.000+01:00

In the morning I am sitting eating cereal and watching late morning TV and I can't seem to help myself from repeating Helen's words from the night before. Amusing reflective asides? Pseudo intellectual conversation? God how crushing was that exactly. Don't answer that.

Susan has been emailing and ringing me all morning to ask me how it went last night. I have been ignoring her. I swear I am such a fool when it comes to following really stupid advice. It's like Susan has some kind of relationship disaster radar that steers people onto to the rocks.

I do intend, of course, eventually that is, to answer one of her calls. I'm just making her stew a little. Okay, I went of my own volition, but it still seems fair enough to blame Susan.

And so as the phone goes for the sixth of seventh time, I pick it up. Slowly, of course.

"Suze," I say with a sigh and a little exasperation.
"Oh, don't say it like that. Gord, you've been avoiding my calls."
"Really, and I wonder why I would be doing that."
"So how did it go? Just tell me."
"Put it this way, how do you think it went?"
"Oh that bad."
"Put it this way, Suze, your advice?"
Expectantly, she says: "Yes?"
"Remind me that it is critically important, and really I can not stress that enough, that under no circumstances, and I mean none whatsoever, do I ever follow your advice again."
"Oh come on it can't have been that bad."
"No you're right. It wasn't that bad, it was so much worse. So much worse that I think it has set a new worse record. Apparently, and I seem to have curiously blanked this out like some false memory, right afterwards, and I mean right after..."
"Right after?"
"You know - right after."
"Oh, I see, right after the moment."
"Yeah, after...the moment, I started examining her floorboards..."
"Her floorboards?"

And Susan sounds non-plussed, and to be fair, rightly so.

"Yeah, her floorboards, and giving her DIY advice."
"DIY advice, oh dear."

The way Susan says this somehow manages to sum it all up perfectly.

"I can't believe you actually examined her floorboards. That's like, I don't know, what is that like?"
"Apparently not a successful tactic is what it is like," I say, "and DIY aside, I still I haven't even told you the worse bit yet."
"There can't possibly be a worse bit," Susan says.
"Suze that kind of thinking won't get you anywhere. She said it reminded her of her dad."

I can hear Susan gasp down the phone. And to be honest, hearing my words have a physical affect on Susan doesn't actually make me feel a lot better, but it does kind of sum it up.

"Ouch. You're right that is worse, much."
"You're right," I say.
"You must be really depressed?"
"You know, I don't feel too bad."
"I think I should come around and comfort you, we can watch a suitable movie."
"What exactly do you mean by a suitable movie, Suze?"
"My choice, I'll see you later."

That's it. With that Susan hangs up on. Even when she is trying to apparently cheer me up she hangs up on me. What's that about?

Susan has some explaining to do. We have just watched a four or five-year-old movie that is perhaps one of the worst films ever made. I swear, that it is so bad that it makes Gigli look...well look, just as bad as it is.

"Susan, you said you were going to cheer me up."

Susan looks at me and shrugs.

"Oh how was I to know that it could be that bad."

I'm not exaggerating, I swear, it was definitely one of the worst romantic comedies I have ever seen. The film in question was 'Serendipity' and it was, as agreed, chosen by Susan.

"Look it had John Cusack in it, that is usually an indicator of some quality?"

This is true, 'The Sure Thing (a modern classic surely), Grosse Point Blank' and High Fidelity' is a good back catalogue, but with 'Serendipity'? No such luck.

"Anyway, I definitely remember before we started watching it you uttered the line 'Kate Beckinsale fantastic'. Oh, how wrong can you be? Another case of putting the brunette before the script. How was I to know that two young attractive stars of today could combine to produce utter rubbish? I wasn't convinced by their relationship either."
"Suze you don't have one."
"Funny, I can still comment, besides, I shouldn't think it would be that long."
I sit up when she says this.
"Oh really? Got any plans I should know about?"

Susan shakes her head.

"No, not as such."
"Didn't think so."
"Gord?"
"Suze."
"Don't you sometimes think?"

Susan's done that thing again and lost me. It could be the wine. She's looking across at me, eyes fixed curled up in the opposing armchair. I think she's about to fall asleep. The DVD player closes down and suddenly the only sound in the room is the slight electro buzz of the now blank TV screen.

"What?"
"I mean don't you sometimes think?"

And she moves her hand through the air and I look at her like she's a little spaced. As far as I can work out Susan has just repeated her last sentence again, slightly rearranged, but essentially saying the same thing. It sounds like a fragment of a sentence lifted from a more complete conversation.

And then she does it again, slightly rearranged,

"Don't you?"

Now I think about it, I'm struck that it's like one of those conversation that you have that lead you to tell people that they're deep, which usually means you just sat up late and talked for hours about yourself and nothing much at all.

In response to Susan's question I smile at her and I ask her if she's drunk. She purses her lips and looks down into her glass and as if it's going to tell her something.

Going to give he answer or tell her something important.

Are there people out there who read fragments of cork? You know like people who read tealeaves? All looking for a hint of things to come. It seems that there should be.

"You don't do you? You don't just sometimes think?"

I shake my head, I mean I guess I don't, as I still absolutely have no idea what Susan is talking about and I tell her this just in case things are a little unclear.

"No I guess I don't as I have no idea what you're talking about."

Susan nods at this, all contemplative and at one with things.
"That's okay," she says, "I didn't think you did."

And like you do we start talking about something else. Just gabbling away at each other and after a while Susan says that she can't stay much later as tomorrow she has dedicated herself to going for a long run. Time to travel she says.

Gordon's Breakfast - 5

2006-05-19T17:43:00.000+01:00

You know to be strictly honest I can't believe I fell for that. Paul's killer line? The one that spurred me from the comfort of their nice warm house and into action? You want to know what it was? Read on.

"He hasn't got the balls to go, I guarantee you."

I swear I am such a sucker when it comes to being goaded to act when it is blindingly obvious to all and sundry that such action is completely detrimental to my self-respect and well being in everyway imaginable.

"You don't think I'll go?"

At that point Paul confidently pushed his chair back from the table and sipped on his wine.

"Nope," he said with a shake of his head.
"I'll go, just watch me."
"Go on then, I dare you to do it now," Susan said.
"You dare me? Why don't you just go all out and double dare me?"
"Gord, I would but everyone knows that double dares are just made up and therefore don't count."

Double dare who says that? Pathetic right? It's weird as I started out quite firm in my rubbishing of Susan's very stupid idea, which has translated very quickly to me standing on the door step of Charlotte's flat having just pressed the doorbell.

Worse than that I can hear someone on the other side of the door. I think they are actually going to open it.

Maybe it was that third glass of wine, but really I'm not at all convinced of that. In the end I think it was, and it pains me to say this, that they were right. I'm not sure why exactly, but I do want to know. I mean I absolutely regret coming to that conclusion now, but that's mainly because I have already pressed the bell and the door is open and I am staring face to face with Charlotte, who to be honest, is looking about a shocked as I am.

"Oh my god."
"It's funny people have been saying that a lot today."

From behind her I hear what must be one of her friends calling out asking who is at the door.

"Who is it Charlie?"
And then another: "Is it the pizza bloke?"
"Not quite," says Charlotte.

Looking down the hallway of Charlotte's flat her two room mates emerge to stand either side of her in the door way.

"You're definitely not the pizza guy are you? What with your lack of pizza," says the second girl.
"No not the pizza guy, although I'm a big fan of pizza and obviously commend your culinary choice."
"This is weird," the first girl says, "who are you and why are you standing in the doorway to our flat?"
"Your flatmates?" I say.
"Yeah, flatmates," Charlotte says, "Helen," she says pointing to the first girl and, "Claire," as she points to the second.
"You two know each other?" says Claire.
"Oh I know who you are! You're the guy from the other night guy," Helen adds.
"That's probably quite a good description," I say.
"But what's he doing here? They're not meant to come back," Helen says.
"Well that's a long and complicated story," I start.
"He wants to know why I kicked him out so early in the morning," answers Charlotte.
"And when you put it like that, apparently, not so complicated."
"You know I think this is a first," Helen says.
"I'll say. This has definitely never happened before. They never usually bounce back," says Charlotte.
"You don't think this is the start of some trend do you? I'm worried about a sudden rush of one-night-guy bounce-backs all popping out of the woodwork and wanting detailed explanations. I'm not sure I could cope with it. What do you tell them anyway?" asks Claire.

Charlotte shakes her head at this still looking a little stunned by my appearance on her doorstep.

"I have absolutely no idea."
"You tell them all the truth that they were crap in bed and that you really don't want to put yourself through a repeat experience. Easy," Helen says confidently.
"Hey!"
Rolling her eyes Charlotte, says: "You weren't crap in bed."
"I thought they were always crap in bed?" Helen says.
"Not that I had noticed."
"Me neither," Claire adds.
"Oh," Helen says disappointed.
"I always thought it was because they were hanging and only ended up at your place because of an over reliance on beer goggles," Claire says.
"Oh cheers."
"You're not hanging," Charlotte says rolling her eyes again.
"I'd have to agree, so what is your story?" Helen asks.
"This is really quite exciting. We were just having a quiet night in and hadn't even gotten around to talking about Charlie's recent one nighter when he turns up in person. It's kind of like Jay Leno with special walk on guests," Claire says.
"You think this is exciting?" Charlotte asks looking sideways at her friend.
"You know I was definitely thinking more along the lines of humiliation," I say.
"Definitely more humiliating, and I was the one who did the kicking," Charlotte says deflated.
"Yeah, and about that," I say.
"You'd better come inside, we have a mountain of wine and it looks like we might need it," Claire says.

I follow the three girls inside and on into the sitting room. There's a bottle of red wine open on the floor and Helen pours me a glass.

"So come on out with it Charlie. What did he do that was so awful you had to kick him out so fast that he hardly had time to pause for breath," Helen asks.
"Well..." Charlotte starts.
"I'm really curious now, if he wasn't that bad in bed and isn't heinous looking what on earth did he do? It must have been..." and Claire trails off.
Throwing her hand in the air Helen, says: "I know, he must have done something afterwards, right?"
Claire claps her hands at this, "Oh you mean like some weird post coital tick?"
"Well to be honest you're kind of close," Charlotte says.

I'm indignant at this, it simply isn't true I do not have any funny post coital ticks and I tell her this.

"I don't have any post coital ticks."

For some reason this makes Charlotte grimace, which is really irritating as it spurs Helen and Claire to laugh.

"Hey, I don't, I swear other than witty pseudo-intellectual conversation, and amusing reflective asides."

Charlotte looks down her nose at me as though she had on glasses and to be honest I am really not liking the look all that much.

"Oh really?" she says.

Just then as we each fix our eyes on the other, and are locked in reflection, we are transported back to the previous evening when it hits me. When I said witty pseudo-intellectual conversation? I think I might have overstated the case, you know, just a little.

We were lying in bed with Charlotte's head resting on my arm in one of those moments that feels quite perfect and complete. No one has said anything as there is nothing to say and it feels like it will continue for quite some time even though you know it will end quite shortly when someone either rolls away or breaks the silence and speaks. It was me, what can I say? I talk a lot.

"This is a really nice room," I said.
"Thanks, I like it."
"But you know what it would look really good if you did the walls a light creamy beige colour."

When I said this it seemed perfectly natural and I don't think I noticed the look at first that Charlotte gave me, that asked in no subtle way, if I was in anyway mad, which is odd as in retrospect, thinking about the moment, I can somehow see it rather too clearly. Don't ask me, please. I have no idea what I was thinking.

"Beige?"
"And the floor, this place must have original floorboards."

See what I mean? I have the kind of mouth that just does not quit especially when it is behind, but just to make sure I rolled over and looked down at the carpet where I began to pull up the carpet edge to look underneath. Without getting back up again I then turned my head back to Charlotte.

"You're looking at my floorboards?"
"Yeah, floorboards under your crap carpet. You should do them."
"You're giving me DIY tips?" and she shook her head amazed, "at two thirty in the morning? After..."
I pulled myself back up and lay down in bed, "I just can't help thinking it might look good. Clean up the pine."
"It's scary but you sound just like my....oh my god."
"Like who?" I ask her scratching my head.
Charlotte rolled away, "Never mind. You know, I think it's time we got some sleep, night."

Helen is looking at me like I'm someone who is in need of help. Actually to be more precise someone who is need of a great deal of help.

"Amusing reflective asides? Pseudo intellectual conversation? You're into DIY. Sexy," she says laughing.
"Didn't your dad offer to do your floorboards?" Claire enquires helpfully.
Charlotte eyes her flatmate keenly as she says this.
"Yes, he did, and you know what? Lets not go there."

I am I know slow on the uptake, but I do at last finally get it and I can feel my face opening wide in abject horror.

"Your dad? Oh my god, I started speaking about DIY? I can't believe it. That isn't me. I have no idea where that came from."
"Beige?" Helen interjects.
"Really it was pretty good up until that point," Charlotte says.

We all sit there for a second and no one says anything. It's not really a very perfect kind of silence. More perfectly awful and humiliating, I swear, I could kill Susan.

"You know I think I might make another speedy exit," I say.
"A second one? You should hang onto this one Charlie," which causes all three women to howl with laugher as I break for the door at speed that tries to balance a vestige of dignity with a fast get away, but to be honest as I run down Charlotte's hallway I'm not sure I got it quite right.

Gordon's Breakfast - 4

2006-05-12T13:19:00.000+01:00

Susan is at the door and I'm not quite ready. I buzz her to come up, but Susan is playing at being impatient and she insists on sitting outside on the wall in the cold while she waits before we head over to Alison and Paul's for dinner.

"How can you," Susan shouts through the intercom, "still be getting ready? Gord
you're a guy for Christ sake."
"And your point exactly?"
"Well you're meant to be like the Wash & Go ad, not still be mucking around in the
bathroom checking you've applied enough moisturizer."
"But wouldn't Wash & Go mean that I had dandruff?"
"Now you're just splitting hairs."
"I'm going to get ready."
"Gord…"

I can still hear Susan wailing through the intercom as I return to the bathroom. If she didn't already know it I would tell Susan that she's right. To be fair I used to be Wash & Go guy, but lately I'm not quite so Wash & Go guy. I'm more Wash & Go in about twenty minutes to half an hour guy. I am sadly, and I hate to even admit this, sitting in the bathroom with the toilet seat down reading an old copy of Esquire magazine with a seaweed facemask on. Oh the shame of it. There I said it. I could of course never tell anyone this as of course (and rightly so) I would face heaps of public ridicule, which unlike now would leave me very red rather than blue faced. Fortunately for me the taboo about men talking about beauty products still stands strong and looks in no danger of disappearing no matter how many grooming features they publish in FHM
or Maxim.

"You were ages, I want to know what you were doing?" she says testily.
"Guys stuff, sorry I lost track of time."
"Gord there is no such thing as guys stuff."

Susan shakes her head in general disgust.

"Well there didn't use to be until you all started to get more gay than gay and compete with us for bathroom time," she says laughing, "On current performance you seem to be winning."

I smile at this and start to walk down the street, "I'm saying anything."

"Oh come on, it's okay, I know that men don't like to talk about it. Personal grooming is still a difficult subject."
"I hate the word grooming, did I ever mention that?"
"What tough guys don't groom?"
"It's what I'm thinking."
"What was it anyway, an avocado face mask? Or maybe a lemon skin peel? You know I'll make an effort to look in your bathroom cabinet next time I'm around."

I shake my head and try not to smile.

"Okay it was a seaweed vitamin replacement mask, but this goes no further. If word gets out…"
"Gord you don't have a reputation, besides word will not get out."

Alison opens the door, she smiles, a very wide smile. Some people look grim when they give really large smiles everything flies out of proportion. That doesn't happen to Alison. Somehow there is a proportionality at play with her face and the lines flow. Did I mention I was president of the Alison fan club?

"Hello, you two, you're late."
"I just want to say that on the issue of lateness it was Gord's and not my fault. I was on time, but he was cowering in the bathroom with a girly face mask on."
"Oh what the seaweed one?" asks Alison smiling.
I nod, "The very same, and thanks Suze for following through on your word of not repeating my male grooming ritual."
"I recommended that to him," says Alison who ushers us inside.

Alison turns and leads us into the house down the hallway past the sitting room and the dinning room, which is set and ready to accommodate dinner for four, and into the kitchen. Paul has an apron on that says "Danger professional at work". This is good advice and it is well worth standing back a little when Paul is cooking. He tends to bark and flash sharp knives around.

"You guys are late," Paul says as soon as we walk into the kitchen, "you're lucky I've got the culinary skills to accommodate. You have no excuse," he says waving a dripping wooden spoon in my direction, "you don't even have a job."
"Hey, what's with the no job thing? I probably put in more hours on the keyboard than…well okay that is clearly a lie, and a poor one at that, but I work at home where I write incisive pieces about yoga and male grooming."

Paul smiles, "I heard from the doorway, seaweed face mask is your top tip, right?"
"No," says Alison, "that's my top tip as well you know. I bought some for Paul and he was swanning around the house in at the weekend like Elton John."
"Lies, lies," Paul shouts, "I was not swanning. I relaxed in the bath."

"You don't mind do you, but I so need a drink?" Susan asks and without pausing lifts out a bottle of white wine from the fridge.
"Gord needs a drink, as well," Alison says, "We're terrible hosts," she says sipping from her own glass of wine.
"I'm just here for the free food," I say accepting the glass of wine from Susan.
"Well it's a good job you have friends like us who are able to fend for themselves,"
Susan says.
"Good friends like you who can fend for yourself in our kitchen," says Paul laughing.
"Well we don't have kitchens like you Paul, as you well know. This is a trial run for the rest of us. We get to watch you operate in this grown ups kitchen full of acres of chrome. It's like one of those adult training areas," I say.
"Gordie, we've been hearing about your recent embarrassment," Alison starts, "tell us more."
"My recent embarrassment? Give me a moment here...."
"He's trying to place which embarrassment you're referring to," says Susan.
"Oh that's helpful, Suze."
"Your one night stand," Alison supplies helpfully.
"Oh that. You should have come right out and said it. You got me all confused. It wasn't so much embarrassing as absolutely mortifying. It's a subtle difference, but it's okay. I'm out the other side."
"Susan says you have a plight," Alison says coyly turning over some food with her fork.
"A what? I have a plight already? I don't have a plight."

I don't have a plight that's just plain crazy slash Susan talk. Suze has delved straight into self-help 101.

"What you mean going from one meaningless short-term relationship to another short-term meaningless relationship? You have a plight."
"Hey, they're not meaningless they're disastrous, there's definitely a difference."

Paul shakes his head in dismay at this.

"I'm not going to ask you how many hours you spent honing that. But mate, please, why would you even want to make that distinction?"
"Because they start out with, you know, potential."
"Who told you that?"
"Funny. There is always something, but somehow it gets lost in translation."
"See? You definitely, you have a plight," Susan says.
"It does seem like you definitely have a something," Alison adds.
"You're screwed, face it," Paul concludes.
"Are you sure? The other day I suffered a slight setback and already I have a plight. This is like the arms race. You start out with a bow and arrow, tanks by midweek and the A-bomb by the weekend."
"You definitely have a plight. It's the beginning of the end. You'll have to give up one-night stands and grow up."
"Yeah I think I got that bit."
"But Gordie, did you really?" asks Alison.
"Ali, I swear I got it."
"So no more empty one night stands?"
"Empty? I think you should cast you mind back. You know to those pre-historic pre-marriage days. Whoever said one night stands were empty vessels that left you feeling soiled and unfulfilled?"
"Everyone?"
"Okay, so everyone says it, but serious, the whole everyone thing is definitely overrated. It's fun, you know sometimes."
"Is that before or after they kick you out?"
"Did she really kick you out? Ouch that's so..." Paul starts.
"Crushing, yeah, that about explains it. Although to be honest there was definitely some humiliation in there as well. And difficult to admit as it is, I'm afraid it's all true. I feel like I've grown just by owning up to that."
"You've grown? Wow it's amazing what a new personal low can do for a guy," Paul says.
"You mean lower than not actually having a girlfriend?" Susan throws in.
"Hey you can talk, Ms Single for 18 months."

Susan snorts at this.

"Resting and between boyfriends. Unlike some I have standards. That's sober standards."
"Well it seems that this woman has standards as well considering how fast she kicked him out," Paul guffaws.
"You know who this girl sounds like don't you?" Alison asks cryptically.

I roll my eyes when Alison says this as of course I know exactly who Charlotte sounds like in this story. She sounds just like me, well you know a younger version of me who did not get kicked out really early – without breakfast.

"Tell me about it. It was like I was standing there watching a carbon copy of myself, but with breasts. And I was looking at her and it suddenly dawned on me how little time I spent thinking about…"

And I'm waving my arms in the air in search of the right word before Alison helps me out.

"What you mean, how little time you spent thinking about those women that you slept with in the past? The little regard you paid them?"

Those are of course exactly the words that I am looking for, but when you hear one of your best female friends throw it at you like that it doesn't sound all that appealing.

"Yes, essentially, I started thinking about those women that…
"You'd slept with."
"…that I had previously known if…"
"Briefly?"
"…for a short-time. So yeah, I was standing there and thinking oh my god, that is exactly how long she is going to spend thinking about me. How depressing is that. Answer, obviously very depressing."
"You mean 30 seconds?" says Paul, who being happily married finds this all rather too hilarious.
"Hey come on that's just callous. Longer than that."
"So Gord what does this new found wisdom tell you?" Alison asks.
"I think it was like a sign."
"Saying?"
"Oh definitely a stop sign," Susan says.
"Suze is right, a stop sign with a little proviso at the bottom, you know like the small print in financial ads, that basically says very clearly that 34 is a bit too old for one night stands and that if you pursue them beyond this age results might well vary."
"It's scary just listening to you. You've just realised this?" Paul questions.
"Paul, unlike you I wasn't born with a pre-programmed instinct to want to marry as soon as I humanly could."
"Oh you mean in Paul's case as soon as I would agree?" provides Alison who squeezes Paul's hand as she says this.
"Anyway, I have a plan."

Already I'm not liking the sounds of this. Susan always has plans for other people and they never seem to involve anything appealing or vaguely sensible. Her plans are more like flans, they fall to pieces as soon as you try to do anything with them. They're more like flan plans than real plans.

"You have a plan? I'm not going to like this."
"Possibly not."
"Possibly not? Oh sell it to me why don't you."
"I think you should confront it."
"Confront? I'm not liking these words. Plight followed by confront? I have to tell you that I am absolutely dreading what comes next."
"You should go round and see Charlotte."
I swear the woman is insane.
"She's right Gord," Alison says.

Let me rephrase, I swear women in general are insane.

"You're insane, you know that right? I mean both of you."
"Listen, you should go around and see her and ask her why she threw you out. You
know you want to know only then will you be able to move on."
"Oh thanks, but in a word, no."
"Gord, it will put your mind at rest," Alison says.
"My mind at rest? You're kidding, here's a better idea, she's Susan's friend, and she introduced me, why doesn't she ask her?"
"I'm sitting here, if you don't mind."
"I know that, you're the one with all the crazy talk."
"Besides Charlotte's not a friend, she's a work colleague."
"And yet you still want me to go around and see her?"
"Absolutely. Anyway, I thought she looked very nice. You know for the type."

Don't you just hate it when women do that? I swear it is only women, they dangle that implied question and you just have to roll with it, you just have to ask. There's no escaping it, there's nowhere to run: you have to ask, so I do.

"For the type?"

Susan is, of course, delighted when I ask the question. I'm only surprised that she was not clapping.

"Oh the junior fashion writer type you can pick up at a fashion party and have a one night stand with."
"Hey? I thought she was cute."
"But a little short maybe?"
"She was a brunette."
"Really more mousey than brunette, I would have said."

That's like an aural cue for both Alison and Susan to touch their perfectly silky brunette hair.

"She was funny, she had a great sense of humour."
"But apparently not that smart."

And it's weird, but I think Susan is on a roll.

"Hey, she was 25."
"Oh, but Gord they are always 25," Susan opines.
"And still a perfectly respectable age to waste time on people like you."
"Oh gee thanks Suze, remind me again who people like me are?"
"Oh that's terribly easy. You're people who aren't even close to 25 and at 34, you are on the cusp."
"The cusp?"
"The cusp of 35 when things start to go downhill at an incredibly rapid rate, which is really just another reason why you should go around there."
"You make it sound like a downhill bobsleigh event."
"Gord, it's when advertisers lose interest in you and, well, other people do as well."
"You're harsh. Have people told you this?"
"You know she's only teasing you," Alison says.
"Yes, I know she's only teasing, but Suze? You're still harsh," I say smiling.
"Think of it this way, at least if you turn up at Charlotte's she'll be completely gob smacked, I swear. Her jaw will drop like a stone."
"Oh I get it. You've been thinking what kind of social death can I inflict on Gordon, right?"
"Seriously, I promise it will help."
"Mmm, and after that I will publicly flail myself for good measure. I'll sell tickets, make a day of it, are you on drugs?"
"Gord?"
"Suze, no way, I mean come on Paul, help me out here?"
"Susan's right you should go round there."

I'm stunned into near silence, I mean seriously I can't speak. This always happens to be me when people make the most ludicrous suggestions in the entire universe. They seem to inexplicably make perfect sense to other people. What's that about?

"Uh? Could you repeat that?"
"I think she's right," Paul says again.
"Are you insane, contrary to popular belief I don't actually go out looking for
humiliating experiences."
"Dude no one ever said you did. We thought they came looking for you," Paul says
grinning.
"And yet again with the humour."
"Seriously you should go," Paul says.

He pauses and I know he's going to say something else and I know that he is going to twist the knife. I swear I can feel it coming.

Gordon's Breakfast - 3

2006-05-05T14:33:00.000+01:00

When the phone rings a couple of hours later I'm watching daytime TV. I know I should be working, somehow though I have failed to come to any conclusions about men and yoga - you know the fundamental reason why men go. I'm sure it will come to me. And besides, I get some really good ideas from daytime TV.

I feel suitable bad about watching it, of course, as I know that like too much sugar it rots my brain, but I can't help it. It's like crack cocaine, but without the need to rob people's houses and ruin your body with needles. Sometimes when I watch daytime TV I get into a terrible panic. I realise I have been engrossed for hours, maybe more, and I have the urge to rush over to the bookcase and pull out a Sartre and start manically reading it to show that I still can, but at the same time I worry that when I look at the words they will just stare back at me and have lost all meaning like I'm reading Latin. Or rather not reading Latin. Trust me it's important. It's part of this long term nagging worry that I am moving towards a land where I no longer have the capacity to read big books or watch foreign movies with subtitles. I'm lying about the foreign movies. I haven't been able to bring myself to watch one for years. In French? Give me a break. Okay, I know exactly what that means: I've become lazy, but most days I'm kind of unrepentant about it and I know full well that instead of reading serious literature I'll probably catch some more day time TV and write about men and yoga or dating tips for women over 30.

It's Susan again and before I have the chance to say anything more than hello Susan has launched into a conversation and like a lot of conversations I have with Susan sometimes my participation is in no way strictly necessary.

"Hey."
"I know why you do it."
See what I mean? It's like she started without me and I'm already lost.
"I'm lost."
"Of course you are, but I'm sure that will pass."
"No seriously, I'm lost."
"I was talking about one night stands, I know why you do it."
"You know why I do it?"
"Of course."
"Oh okay, so what's you're theory?"
"It's because of the 'one'."
"The one? I have no idea what you're talking about."

I cross my arms, fidget, and scoff loudly at this, baulking at even the slightest suggestion that I could be carrying a torch for a girl, otherwise known as Larissa Snowe, who dumped me four years ago. Okay, so I have a vague idea of what Susan is talking about.

"You have no idea what I'm talking about? I bet you're sitting there with your arms folded."
"That's rubbish even for you. Besides..."
"Rubbish? That's not exactly the convincing denouncement I was expecting. And anyway, since you found the one, and lets call her Larissa Snowe..."
"Do we have to?"
"Oh I think we do, as I was saying, since you found the one and then carelessly lost the one..."
"Careless? I'm not careless I'm the exact opposite of careless. I'm..."
And suddenly my mind is a total blank. It's always the easy stuff, damn that girl and daytime TV.
"As I said, carelessly lost the one now you need to find the other one."
I scratch my head, "The other one?"
"The other one is the one that you keep," Susan says pleased with herself.
"Any idea what she looks like? You know just so I know."
"No idea sorry, but I'm sure you'll work it out eventually."
"Really? That's not very helpful. I thought you might have a hint or something for me."
"You want a hint?"
"Yes, that would be cool."
"Okay, here's a hint - work it out for yourself."

With that Susan hangs up on me. Sometimes I swear I have no idea, I mean seriously what's that about. And the hanging up? Don't get me started.

Back at my desk in the spare room I am at least staring at my computer, but it just isn't happening. And while I hate myself for doing it, I find myself totally preoccupied with the subject of the one. I know that in so many ways spending time thinking about something as inane as whether there is or not a one (the Matrix and Star Wars movies aside) or whether a concept of the one actually exits elevates the whole subject to heights that are wholly inappropriate. God, what has on earth happened to me? I have an English degree and a really high IQ, and now I use my grand IQ to work out whether there is a one, which really, and lets be honest here, equates to nothing more than the simple (Self Help Manual inspired) question as to whether there a girl out there who is 'like, you know, totally right for me?'. Those I hasten to add are my own italics for my own specially imported valley speak brain.

It's sad, but the only thing that makes me feel a little better about wasting my averagely valuable time on this subject is that I know it isn't just me. I know I am far from alone. It's other people and at least most of the people I know, you know give of take those who are very happily together or in fact married. My friend Adam for instance, who just like me, will talk about this one girl on a regular basis and about how this one girl got away. She's his one. You know like a POW. Like Steve McQueen on a motorbike. Except with the escaping part. Unlike the cooler king this girl made a clean break, well from Adam, at least.

I digress. There is this girl. She's like every girl and she got away. She got away from us all. I'm sanguine about it all, I'm pretty sure in all of our cases that the one who got away isn't coming back. I mean they just aren't (right?), sadly this doesn't stop us talking about it. Really, to be honest, I'm pretty healthy when it comes to this subject. For instance, I have managed to stop myself Googling her, which has been a gargantuan effort, really hard, as it's just so damn tempting and easy to do. But I know if I touch those keys and hit the return button it will be OMG Gordo time as the horrible truth is revealed about my really successful and happy ex-girlfriend. I don't need that so I advise you all to stay away, I mean why do it?

She's still sort of out there, of course, you know in my head. In my headspace like one of the many permanent residents who my brain has handed out a parking permit to, but there's nothing much I can do about that.

Maybe Suze is right. Maybe all this talk about the one stops you finding the other one. On an impulse I decide to test the theory on Adam and I dial his work number.

"Hey."
"Hey, I'm just on my way out to a meeting."
"It's okay I'm just calling to field test a new theory, you know snap research, it won't take long. I'm thinking of writing a piece."
"Oh yeah, what's the story?"
"Errr women, what do you think?"
"Sorry stupid question. I worry sometimes that we don't have any other topics of conversation."

This makes me laugh I swear it is so true. Obviously there is TV, cultural goings on and football, but to be honest we seem to spend a lot of the rest of our time talking about women. Finding them, being with them, losing them and finding new ones. It's a vicious circle, I swear.

"You're sadly right, I plan to get some new hobbies, you know someday, to give me something else to talk about. I'm going to wean myself off women in the same way I did cigarettes."
Adam laughs at this.
"Yeah, but you'll back on the women in no time flat. How many times is it you have now given up smoking?"

I should mention this now and get it out of the way. I am the maker of grand drunken gestures, evening promises and other things that I generally don't stick to. I have on so many occasions after smoking half a packet of cigarettes declared that I am through with fags. Sometimes I do this loudly and invite witnesses. The thing is, and I know I sound like an addict here, that I smoke so little, I hardly see the point in stopping. Other that is when I am out boozing.

"That's true, but about women I'm serious."
"Funny, I'm not sure the women in your life have ever seen it that way."
"I'll let you have that one. I'm feeling pretty magnanimous this morning."
"Really?"
"Uh huh, really."
"Okay, so what's your research?"
"The one. You know as in 'she's the one'. You've been down the road. I thought I'd start with you."
"Oh you mean Karen Young? The girl I filed under 'too stupid to realise was the perfect girl and have since lived to regret'. You mean that one?"
"That's exactly what I was saying to myself, you've been there and done the whole one thing."
"What brought this on, anyway?"
"Susan."
"Susan?"
"Well more the girl I met last night."
"You didn't sleep with her did you?"

As he says this he delivers one of those filthy laughs down the line that somehow suggest moral superiority and is really only delivered to let me know that he has me just where he wants me. To be honest I am not a big fan of these kinds of laughs. It's unfair as usually, and I swear this is true, I enjoy sitting on the moral high ground in relation to Adam.

"Well I thought I did, but you know on reflection, it seems that she slept with me."
"This from the man who never does one night stands."
"Hey, it was a one off."
"They're all one offs that's why they call them one night stands."
"Whatever, the point is Susan says that the reason I have them is because of the one."
"Because of Larissa Snowe?"
"Wow it sounds so harsh when you put it like that."
"So you think she was the one?"
"Of course not."
"You don't? I thought you did?"
"I don't believe in the theory of the one other than in terms of Star Wars, and the one who will bring balance to the force, which is of course more serious."
"It doesn't matter whether you believe or not. The theory of the one is like god. Believing or not believing doesn't change the fact that god is still out there, which is kind of like the one."

I sigh deeply. That makes absolutely no sense and I tell Adam this.

"That makes no sense."
"It makes perfect sense. You talk about her all the time."
"That's not true, what I do is talk about her as an example of things that can go wrong when you date someone, but only when it comes up in conversation."
"Like I said you talk about her all the time."

Damn Adam and his smart answers. He's right, which is so weird as Adam is never right. I mean it's like a law of physics and the law simply states that Adam is never right. It's an immutable, fixed and unalterable fact about our universe well the one my friends and I inhabit at least.

"Weird. You're right I do. Do you think we just shifted into an alternative universe one where you're always right no matter what happens? I think we might have. Say the sky is falling right now, you know just to see what happens."
"Piss off."
"What can I say?"
"Nothing apart from you talk about a girl all the time who you haven't spoken to for almost four years. Weird? I'd say so."
"Smart arse? I'd say so."
"Well in that case, yes I've had a one experience, but don't even think about using me in anything you write."
"But I thought you came across really well in that metrosexual piece?"
"You made me gay. I don't call that coming across well."
"Adam you're over reacting. You came across as just gay enough."
"I don't want to be just gay enough. Anyway, you know who the other one is don't you?"

Know who the other one is? What's he talking about? If I knew who the other one was would I be sitting here. Suddenly my heart begins to beat a little faster. It's crazy I know, but maybe Adam knows something that I don't.

"You're insane, of course I don't know who the other one is."
"Oh come on, why don't you just get it done with an ask out Susan."

I cough and splutter into the phone. That's where crazy thinking will get you. Adam doesn't know anything that I don't, that's just insane. He is insane. I can't go out with Susan. No one can. That's the rule as Susan is our friend and if we started dating her and...well its bound to get complicated.

"You're insane. I can't go out with Susan."
"Whatever, anyway, got a go."
"Later."

And I hang up and I'm back at my desk thinking about the one and the other one (who is definitely not Susan) when really I should be thinking about men and yoga, which while intrinsically as silly as spending time and energy thinking about the one will actually pay the rent.

Gordon's Breakfast - 2

2006-04-29T00:32:00.000+01:00

The other thing about Susan is that her timing is always uncanny. This is confirmed once again as my phone starts ringing almost immediately after I walk out of Arsenal tube. I flip open my phone.

"Hey, Suze, what's up?"
"Well you for one. I just called you at home. No answer. Gord that's a little unheard of for you, isn't it, up and out of the house all before eight o'clock?"
"Oh just out getting a newspaper."
"Just popped out did you?"

I can't help laughing at this even though I feel it is somehow beneath me to laugh at such a double entendre.

"That's right," I say still smiling, "Just popped out."
"Is that how it happened for you last night? Just popped out?"
"Hey who are you today queen of smut?"
"More like queen of tut-tut."

She keeps me laughing with and as I walk along having to move the phone away from my mouth to stop my laughing cough blowing straight down the handset and into Susan's ear on the other end of the line.

"Isn't too early for double entendres? I'm thinking there should be like a morning watershed banning such smutty talk. Besides, I have a resolution. I'm a little late I know, but I figure if I get it in now I can go forward into the rest of the year with it, better late than never right?"

"It's January 29 Gord which is far too late to resolve not to sleep with people I work with."
"Are you sure? I was counting on a month's grace."
"There's no grace Gord, which is handy for you. I take it you're outside my building?"
"Funny you should say that. I was hoping you would offer me coffee and advice as I profusely apologised and owned up to the glaring error of my ways."
"Oh really, I was hoping we could skip that ritual this morning. Besides, I'm running late, I'll bring you some coffee down, you can apologise as you walk me to the tube station. I think you owe me some details anyway."
"Are you sure? Isn't it too early for cross-examination time?"
"Dream on Gord."

With that Susan hangs up. Susan is always hanging up on me. It's like she worships at the alter of the last word and she has been granted the power to hang up on people with impunity whether it is because she is in a huffy mood or merely wants to make it clear that she has made up her mind and things are going to be just so.

As Susan comes out of her mansion block building she is as good as her word. Dressed in a pair of perfectly beaten and faded Levis, a white blouse and fitted jacket, her shoulder length dark brown hair is tied back, and she is holding a plastic cup with a lid on it, which she duly hands over to me.

"So how sorry are you exactly? As a guideline, I think you should be very sorry."
"On a scale of one to ten, a lot and I just want to say in my defence that I have no idea how it happened. Honestly."
"Well let's recap. You drank lots of champagne and stuck your tongue in her mouth to which she responded to by saying why don't you come back to my place."

That's another thing about Susan. She has an uncannily ability to cut to the chase. I can't help laughing at this.

"Suze, that's just plain spooky. Were you watching?"
"Funny, anyway I'm only teasing you. Charlotte said she was in need of a quick shag and she thought you were cute and needy."

Needy? I'm shocked at this. A quick shag? Who talks like that? Oh wait, I think I know the answer to this one.

"Needy? I'm not needy. I'm the reverse I'm...I'm needless."
"You're needless?"
"Yeah...or something, but definitely not needy."
"Sorry Gord, but you are so needy. You are in need of a girlfriend guy. Oh I've come up with a new acronym, NAGG, need a girlfriend guy."
Susan claps her hands together at this under the impression that it is in fact extraordinarily funny and possibly the best joke she ever came up with.
"Nag? How appropriate, which reminds me why I don't need a girlfriend."
"Funny boy, anyway did she or did she not kick you out really early."
"And you knew that how exactly?"
"I just have to look at you and the fact that it's really terribly early. People linger more if they're not kicked out first thing."
"They linger? That's good to know. There was definitely no lingering."
Susan touches a finger to her lips.
"Oh how sad, you've entered the linger free part of your life."
"Oh cheers."

Susan smiles obliquely.

"Anyway, I've loved you and now must leave you. Maybe at the weekend?"

Susan makes that mwah mwah sound as she kisses me on both cheeks, but doesn't actually make contact.

"Hey, what's with the mwah mwahing?"
"Oh didn't I say? I'm going to a fashion party tonight that Mademoiselle is going to be sponsoring it's going to be chocker full of models. I'm just practicing. Mwahing is terribly important to models it makes up at least half of their vocabulary. If you talk mwah you're almost there to being their lifelong friend. I just want to ensure that I have plenty to say."
Susan has me in stitches, "Did you say models? I think you might want to take me with you. I'm fluent in mwah and have always wanted to...you know meet more models."
"No Gord, you can't come. You'll get a little and then a lot drunk and convince yourself that for some bizarre reason you will be able to successfully chat one up. And whilst they are generally guaranteed to be blond and not awfully clever, they still won't sleep with you."
"Really? Are you sure? I mean shouldn't we put that theory to the test. I mean I like champagne, so we'll have something in common."
"I'm quite positive and besides someone on the magazine will see and there'll be gossip. Besides you're too poor, you don't take lots of drugs, don't have a large house, nice car and you don't belong to any private members clubs."

Susan's right, damn what can I say, I knew that one day I would suffer in later life for failing to take large quantities of drugs.

"Held back again by my overly sensible and clean living approach to life."
"Gord you don't have a clean living approach."
"Damn you're right again. I never knew I failed on so many levels. Did I ever tell you how lucky I am to have you?"
"Never, but Gord that's okay I've always seen myself as the vastly under appreciated but indispensable type. Look I have to go. I need to hit to the gym, starve myself, pick up my little black dress from the dry cleaners and have a facial all in the vague hope that I will look thin enough by this evening to not stand out too much. How do you rate my chances?"
"As always Suze, highly. And remember if you think you might suddenly change your mind and decide what your good friend Gordon actually needs is to meet some models..."

Susan places her index finger on her lips as if to give the indication that she is actually giving my suggestion serious consideration. And really I would be full of hope if I hadn't seen her do this a million times before.

"Oh let me think long and hard about that one. Thinking over. Dream on Gord. Speak later."

I watch Susan cross the road and head to Arsenal tube station as I head off down the street again towards home, which is just a few minutes away from Susan's place. I have a mountain of work to finish including my article on 'Men and yoga'.

Gordon's Breakfast - 1

2006-04-21T15:12:00.000+01:00

I'm too old for one-night stands and I cannot hop. I realise all of this as I come crashing down and hit the floor with all the grace of a sack of potatoes. The hopping? To be honest? I'm less concerned about that. It's the other thing. Okay, maybe, at 34 I should have realised this thing about one night stands before I crashed down to the floor in the hallway of Charlotte's flat, but I had rather been under the impression that while this casual approach to relationships wouldn't exactly last forever it wouldn't end so abruptly either. I just always assumed that I would continue to have commitment free fun until I got married when I was like, you know, older. Yeah, older – that non-specific time in your life that is either a million miles a way or a step around the corner. Step.

Weird thing is there was no sign of it last night, I swear. It didn't happen in the bar and I'm pretty much convinced that it didn't happen during, well you know, during. Worse than not happening last night it happened this morning, you know like some weird morning after side affect of the night before. And I swear there is nothing worse than things happening when you are sober (you know'ish) in the cold light of day. What's with the cold light thing anyway?

Charlotte is kind of standing over me, arms folded, as I, heaped on the floor, struggle with my trainers. Pulling your trainers on while hopping looks so easy on TV, but with my poor balance, really it is not the case.

"That fall looked painful. Are you alright?" Charlotte asks, "You fell sort of oddly."

As she asks me this I lift myself up and finally pull on my second trainer. I don’t even bother with the laces, which are knotted beyond immediate help, and I suddenly have this flash back of me impulsively ripping them off my feet in record time last night. And I tell you, me and impulsiveness? It never ends well.

"Painful? No, not at all it’s just that I don't usually start hopping so early in the morning. It’s kind of like a bit of a shock to the system."

Charlotte smiles at this and crosses her arms, looking faintly amused.

"No, I think the door will work fine. Look sorry to rush you out of here without breakfast," she says.
"Or coffee, or water or...;"
"Yeah, errr anyway..."

Charlotte opens the front door and gently with her hand on the small of my back she helps me out of the hallway, which is of course nice of her but really I didn't need the assistance. On the doorstep I stand looking back with my hands stuffed deep in my pockets, arms rigid against my side, smiling as Charlotte, who is still dressed only in a white silk dressing gown, peaks out from behind the door, which she is slowly closing on me diminishing my view of her by the second.

"Sorry to rush you out like this, but I have this really early...meeting?"

I look at her blankly.

"...and it's Friday...so I have to get ready for the weekend..."

And I think she's looking at me for some support, but I'm just looking back her still slightly in shock at my rapid exit so she continues with litany.

"...and, well, you know how it is I really need to get going, and you probably should too, you don't mind do you?"
"No, no, morning, meetings, at least you didn’t say you have a squash game to rush to," I say.

And I'm laughing when I say this and so wishing that I hadn't.

"Squash?"
I wave her off, "Oh nothing," I say smiling, hands deep in my pockets.
"Well anyway, thanks for being so cool, other guys get really pissed off about this kind of stuff."
"Look, I was going to..."
"Yeah, look, errrm, really nice to meet you, last night was…great, of course, and everything, but," and Charlotte claps hands together, "really, don't feel bad about not calling me?"

Before I even have time to process any of this Charlotte is raising her eyebrows and offering me a big smile.

"Bye now."

With that Charlotte closes the door and I'm left looking at the white panel door with my face just inches from the brass doorknocker.

Don't feel bad? Don't feel bad? These words are ringing in my head as I walk away from Charlotte's and start to walk towards Notting Hill tube station and home. Somehow thinking that don't feel bad is possibly one of the worst phrases in the English language.

As I head down the steps of the station and arrive on the platform the terrible thing is that I know if I could have looked at myself just then I would have seen this slightly dazed and confused expression. Mainly because it felt like I was on the receiving end of a conversation with myself. That total brush off? Don't feel bad about not calling me? I've used that line. It was all so familiar. I just never expected to have it delivered to me. I mean how humiliating is that exactly?

Don't answer that. My point is I never even got the chance to say that I never had any intention to call her again. Okay, I never exactly had time to formulate that thought either, but I swear the words were on the tip of my tongue. It’s like she stole my thunder and you know the worse part? Oh yeah, there’s always a worse part. I didn’t even realise it was happening to me.

This brings us to back to the here. I mean look at me? I mean seriously. My face shouldn't be like this. No way. I should have a huge cat who got the every single last drop of cream smile on my face after last night. Charlotte is 25 and really rather gorgeous. And my demeanour? It shouldn't be like this, all sullen and dour. I should definitely have a swagger. I should be strutting or glowing or something. Rather than sitting on the tube as I am now looking like just another guy with a hangover at the end of a long night. I feel like my youth just got up and left the room. And to be honest? I kind of feel the urge to get up and follow it.

I need to retrench. I know I shouldn't be chasing 25 year olds, I should be dating women my own age. I mean we all should, you know more or less. It’s, oh what’s the phrase? Oh yeah scary, sensible and the grownup up thing to do. Damn, I knew there was a problem with that plan.

It’s not that I have a problem with 30 something women, Susan and Alison are among my best friends, and they are great. Alison for instance is best – best job, best looking, best house, and best husband, like I said best. She’s like this shinning beacon for the successful young modern woman. Just don’t tell her that, as she hates me calling her a beacon. Yeah, and you know what? I’m not sure what that’s about either.

And of course there is Susan. I have no idea where I would be without her. What can I say about Susan? We have an understanding. Susan takes me to great parties and I embarrass her terribly. I on the other hand offer her great advice on the men she dates, which she ignores. Susan likes to do the same for me with just as much success. That girl from last night for instance? Charlotte? She works on the same magazine with Susan, who only invited me along to last night’s party on the express understanding that my presence went unnoticed and did in no way involve fraternising with her colleagues on a one to one basis, which means I owe her something of an apology.

The Demographic Shift - 100

2006-04-13T18:23:00.001+01:00

As you know I've done a bit of internet dating on as have a lot of people that I know. It's mostly been miss and miss.

I've blogged about it a bit, as have other people, and possibly in retrospect that hasn't always been the best strategy.

There was Difficult Third Date Girl. She obviously read what I wrote, although that didn't exactly backfire at the time. She took it well and I guess in retrospect it was kind of cute. She had a good comeback and I do a good line in sheepish.

Then it happened again. I blogged about dating and then that got read. Whoops. While in the case of DTDG it was kind of amusing and in the end date enhancing, when I blogged most recently the results were quite different and I was on the receiving end of a deserved double barrel missive, which was fair enough.

It sort of reminded what I'd been thinking for a while that this blog was really starting to suffer a little blog fatigue.

And really if you want to blog about your love life really you should do it anonymously otherwise you're going to get it and, well, so are other people, which leaves few winners.

This blog started out being about one thing and slipped seamlessly into another at some point a lot of words ago. It has jumped around a bit, possibly more so lately, who knows, but it all added to the feeling that this blog had run its course.

The other thing this was kind of about (at the beginning) was trying to write some kind of Demographic Shift novel, which would have (or should have) been some of blokelit/chicklit thing. Let's face it lots of blogs are novels in waiting, but I could never quite get it right. Or I could never get something right that I was all that happy with.

Partly because I wanted to convention defy and mix some more serious narrative with witty amusing dating dialogue. You could see why that went wrong. Chicklit isn't so much about narrative, but about typing with dialogue and shallow inner thought. The rest is just filler. Sometimes quite good, but lets face it mostly not.

It took me a while to realise that resulting in the first two efforts not quite hitting the mark, being neither one thing nor the other. Both of those were called The Demographic Shift. Even the title (for a book) is not really 'lite' enough.

The third and final effort is closer to what it should have been. It's really not bad, but I don't think it needs to be aired anywhere else other than here. Like the world needs it. Besides, if I spend anymore time on it I will never actually get around to doing the so called real writing that I want to do rather than fun typing.

So anyway to cut a long story short. I had planned for a while to call time on this blog, this Demographic Shift, pretty much as it called time on me, and No 100 seems a good place to stop and here we are. Admittedly I posted three times today. Not that I'm in a rush to finish up or anything. I just got finish line frenzy and was hit by a last burst of speed. Job done.

That said what I thought that I would gradually do was post the novel that grew out of it, week by week. Title wise the third and final draft is called Gordon's Breakfast. Not my title. It's Suze's I kind of stole it. She did say that if she ever wrote a novel that's what she would call it. She still can. This particularly breakfast, however, will be served every Friday until it runs its course. First serving next week and thereafter.

The Demographic Shift - 99

2006-04-13T16:46:00.001+01:00

I had to share this. Susan has been doing some internet dating again or at least "lurking on dating websites". The story kind of sums up how the whole thing can be a little more miss than hit sometimes.

"Dating lurking?"
"Yes, it's like window shopping, you don't buy anything or even go into the store. You stay quiet outside."
"Oh you mean outside where its safe?"
"Well most of those dating websites do carry messages warning you to date safely."

Susan has a point although I'm not sure that "don't date" was what they had in mind when they wrote the date safely rules. But hey, each to their own.

Anyway, I digress, different sites have, what if you're a bit techie you would call, different feature sets. Some allow you to do lazy stuff like wink at people, which is sort of cute, but really all it says is "well you seem okay, but to be honest I'm too lazy to send you a message and much get off my arse and do anything about it, but if you can be bothered to express an interest in me first then that could work".

Of course, the proper response to this is to ignore it. Unless rule one applies. Rule one, of course, is don't ignore it if they happen to be really good looking. That seems fair enough.

Like winking at people another thing that some of these sites allow you to do is add people to your list of favourites like a regular web bookmark, which can also be another lazy way of doing nothing. Pretty much like above.

Sometimes as well as allow you to send messages and do all the work yourself these sites do things for you and try to electronically match you up. My thinking is if people have trouble doing it for themselves the chances of a computer database being able to do it for you successfully are les than zero.

Anyway, this is what it did with Susan, it flashed up on her screen presenting her with what it said was a perfect match.

On her screen was a picture of someone with the following message: "It's fate. Getting a conversation started will be a cinch because for starters you share the same desire to have children, you both mention sailing in your profile, plus he was born on the 15th, too.

"His best feature is his eyes. He's 35 yrs old, 5' 10" tall and his body type is athletic. Find out more about him through email."

It even sounded good to me, but I knew there had to be a problem.

"The picture was actually pretty good. So I clicked through. Then I saw the problem."
"There was a problem, already? How could that be, you said you wanted a tall athletic guy who was into sailing? Not bad looking? What more do you want."
"Gord it wasn't that he professed to have a whacky sense of humour and enjoy drinking shots."
"Enjoys drinking shots? He put that? Whacky? Who does that?"
"Quite, but it was something even more fundamental than that."

More fundamental? I wracked my brain and delved into my detailed knowledge of Susan's hang ups. It could be anything.

"You got me what was the fundamental deal breaker?"
"The first date was going to be a bit of a stretch.
"A stretch?"
"Yeah, with me in North London and him in Ankara! How could that be a perfect match? I haven't even made my mind up about Turkey entering the EU yet!"

Technology is a wonderful thing. Just don't expect to try and let it do all the hooking for you.

The Demographic Shift - 98

2006-04-13T12:01:00.001+01:00

I got a T-shirt in the post this week. This is not unusual. Normally they are oversized and in some garish primary colour with a logo so large and thickly applied to make it only useful in stopping bullets.

This one was slightly different. It was a sort of tawny beige with the words "Real men don't shave". I know something about this having not so long ago gone through a whole non-shaving period.

The t-shirt was connected to a US ad campaign that has something to do with the death of metrosexual man, which it seems to me has been greatly exaggerated.

No there has not been a collapse in moisturizer sales or anything as drastic as that, but a possible shift in attitude.

You can tell as earlier in the week The Times ran a pieces "Metrosexual, RIP?", which summed up modern man's dilemma quite well as it posited that while the name may change a man's dilemma remains the same: "what is the precise ratio between machismo and moisturiser that will get me laid?"

With The Times article and the T-shirt, that's once as rumour and twice as fact.

The Times piece was sparked by the recent closure in the US of Condé Nast's Cargo magazine, which was interpreted here and there as more evidence that metrosexual man had had his day, taken his styling products and gone back to basics.

Gawker for instance has this to say: "Let it be said that we’re never happy to see a magazine die. But if this signifies the larger, official and irreversible death of the metrosexual, well, it’s a noble sacrifice."

I'd been thinking about this and couldn't really agree less. Men are more than ever buying cart loads of product. The closure of Cargo was simply time being called on a bad idea: a shopping magazine for men? Can you see any sense in that as an idea? No me neither.

Clearly neither could many men. Ziff Davis Media closed its men's tech-shopping magazine, Sync, last November; Fairchild folded the men's shopping title Vitals in September.

Men's shopping mags going belly up aside, do a little digging and you'll find that all the things that apparently "made" metrosexual man still seem to be there in the market writ large.

After a quick look around and I found reports ranging from a booming shaving products market (it used to be easy: foam, now its foam, gel, oil et cet), which grew 24% between 2000 and 2004 and was worth about £500m last year, to the heavy discounting and the rise of 'metrosexual' man are driving the fragrance sector.

"The rise of 'metrosexual' man has pushed grooming up the agenda for young males, who have been targeted by manufacturers accordingly."

While teenagers experiment with hairstyling it’s the 25- to 34-year-old market that is the key audience for manufacturers partly because these men want to look good at work.

Women on average might worry about her body every 12 minutes, but men aren't far behind. Another recent study conducted by Ogilvy & Mather also saw no stopping metrosexual man, those urban straight men who are conscious of their physical appearance.

Metrosexual man is far from dead, but it's the phrase itself that people have twigged is naff. It was meant to suggest "just gay enough", but it was really always too gay to be straight, which is partly why we have seen the emergence of new (but the same) marketing buzz words to replace it such as Ubersexual and Heteropolitans.

The Ubersexual seems simply to be a reworking of the classic sex symbol (George Clooney and Brad Pitt are Ubers) while the Heteropolitans (Jamie Oliver, Andrew Flintoff and Vernon Kaye) seem to be lads...but didn't they morph into metros? It's all kind of circular and confusing.

There was the Retrosexual as well. Although I'm not sure what ever happened to him...other than his move to all things retro.

All of these new catchall phrases are essentially naff as well. Having never gone around describing myself as a metrosexual (it always sounded like a term of mild abuse), I can't really imagine ever wanting to attach any other marketing buzz word to the labels that I am already wearing.

I might once have tried a seaweed green face mask (it was a long time ago) and have been known to, you know, moisturize, on occasion, but firmly resist Metro, Uber (unlikely) or Heteropolitan tag.

Although, that said, I'm kind of likely to wear the T-shirt, the shaving thing aside.

The Demographic Shift - 97

2006-04-08T12:37:00.001+01:00

I went to a some media type party the other week and behaved badly. I didn't throw up or spill booze over someone vaguely important, but it was poor behaviour all the same. To be honest I feel kind of bad.

Before you ask, yes of course there was a woman involved, what other kinds of bad behaviour are there for men to get involved in (okay possibly plenty)? And before you ask no it was not a pretty sight.

It was the usual story of far too much free booze, a little bit of competition and a complete throwing out of everyone's favourite Gramscian dating maxim about those failing to learn from history being condemned to repeat it.

So repeat it I did. Besides I never thought there was an attractive brunette who plonked slap bang in the middle of my radar that I shouldn't at least try to throw myself at. It seems only fair. I think I have one of those throwable characters.

So this was the scenario. Several drinks into the evening waiting staff buzzing around a packed room of freeloading party goers also known as advertising and media types and I was away.

At first I had absolutely no intention of doing anything. Seriously, I was just going to have a couple of drinks and hail a black cab home. I can't out late these days getting up early in the morning totally kills me.

But then I got talking to a PR woman from those heady dotcom days who couldn't remember my name nor I hers.

"Gideon?"

Gideon? 0h come on, I'm not even close to being a Gideon even if I knew what a Gideon looked like. But I have set ideas about these kind of things and I was kind of imagining Gideon to be really tall, quite skinny and with curly brown hair. I happy to be corrected on this matter, of course.

But still after we had sorted out who was who she decided that she really had to meet another reporter who was there that evening, but all she knew was that she was terribly pretty, brunette, French and called Emily, but you know with a French accent on the Em and the ily.

We started scanning the room when right in front of us was a possible Emily candidate.

"It could be her? She's brunette and really quite attractive."
"Do you think? I wouldn't have said she was that attractive."
"Ouch."
"Why don't you speak to her," my PR pal said.

Me? What just walk up and start a conversation? No problem. We were on glass four or so by then so really I'm sort of full of...errr something. I gate crash the possible Emily conversation and try my best to be really charming.

"Hello, you must be Emily?"

She looked puzzled.

"No, I'm Charlotte."
"That's kind of close, Emily's and Charlottes are very similar."
"I'd not heard that."
"There's the whole Bronte thing and...well that's all I have I'm afraid."
"It was a good start although I'm pretty sure I'm not an Emily."

And so it went on and everyone else drifted away and we were chatting along and it was going swimmingly until another reporter turned up and refused to go away. You know how people appear at your elbow and you find they are suddenly nodding along to your conversation about whatever like it's the most interesting thing they ever heard. It was just like that. What it also was, was competition and it rapidly turned into one-upmanship.

"Steve, I think someone's waving to you over there?"

He looked over his shoulder, looked back at me, shook his head.

"No I think that's someone else they're after."
"Maybe you should check," I said big with the urging.
"No, I'm okay, thanks."

Hmmm. This was really unfair. We were both running over ourselves to be witty and amusing and big on the impressiveness. I'm sure it was a total car crash.

A little later someone tapped me on my shoulder. I vaguely recognised her then proceeded to get her name wrong (I'm kind of thinking the evening had a theme and no one had told me). Damn I was going to have to talk to her. Steve was grinning at this. Clearly this was his chance.

I felt kind of bad as although I'd gotten her name wrong she was really nice so I'm sure would not have minded if I dumped (I mean introduced to) her on Steve.

"Hey Steve come here a second, have you met Jenny?"

I guided the two together. Promptly turned my back on them and back to Charlotte who having spent the last half an hour talking restaurants I asked out for lunch.

I saw Steve the next day. He had this wry grin on his face.

"I saw that last night."
"Saw what?"
"You dumping that girl on me whose name you couldn't remember."
"Oh yeah that...," I shrugged my shoulders, "Errr sorry about that. What can I say?"

He shook his head, smiling a little, clearly having taken it quite well.

"Don't worry about it. I guess you did see her first."

The Demographic Shift - 96

2006-03-31T12:50:00.001+01:00

My sister was round at my house recently and was kind of shocked with what I had done with the place. Not all of it. Just a bit of it.

"Gordon what on earth were you thinking?"

I scratched my head. Really I can't tell you. I have no idea where it came from. I kind of like it, but it looks like I might be on my own.

"You have painted every other room in the house, bar none, white, yet you've gone all rouge and boudoir like in your bedroom? What on earth were you thinking?"

It's true, kind of. I have indeed painted every other room in the house white other than my bedroom, which is now, according to Dulux –rooster red.

"Do you know any French whores? I think they would be pretty happy here."

My sister is such a wise arse. But I can kind of see her point and I'm not sure what came over me. I'm not really all that big on interior design. I like bright colours and wooden floors, you know, mostly. I need professional help, but some how a reporter's salary doesn't quite stretch to employing interior designers.

In my defence I should say that, while the walls are pretty dark red I didn't paint a rather thick white border that connects to the ceiling. So the red is separated from the ceiling by white and I think balanced by the wooden floors and the wooden blinds (beach). Surely all this wood must be good. Okay, so I'm stretching, what can I say.

"I think its kind of cosy," I told my sister.
"Yes its definitely cosy, if only you knew some hookers."

There was worse to come.

"Gordon its not just boudoir look, red is a disaster colour in the bedroom in terms of Feng Shui. It completely explains your lack of success with women."

Oh come on that can't possibly be true. Besides, complete lack of success is somewhat harsh.

"Are you sure?"
"Of course it is, it’s a big no no, you might as well get yourself a habit."
"I've got a habit, I still play PS2 games."
"No you fool – a habit, a monk's habit."
"Hey enough with the fool talk."
"Well, anyway, red in the bedroom is like sexual death."
"Sexual death? I'm not liking the sound of that at all. Death and sex a the same time, please."
"Well you'd better get painting. You seem to be sitting on the world's supply of white."

Please god, no more painting. I seem to have been at it for weeks, you know, stretched over the last two years. Besides when I paint I tend to get I everywhere even when I'm really really careful. The message seems to be that really I shouldn't paint.

I was telling Susan about the whole Feng Shui thing when she did a double take and was suddenly convinced that that bad Feng Shui in the bedroom had to be her problem also.

"It makes perfect sense," Susan said with the conviction of a person who really believes.
"It does?"
"Yes, I've suspected for ages that my whole Yoko Ono minimalism thing was the reason for my disastrous love life."
"But Suze, you don't believe in any of this Feng Shui stuff, you take the piss out of it as you do with most stuff."
"I know, but I think I'm at the stage in my life when I'm willing to clutch at straws. I might take up religion. I feel that deep down I could be a religious person."
"What about the whole not believing in a supreme being thing?"
"Mmm, maybe one of those less than monotheistic religions would better suit me."
"But Feng Shui?"
"It perfectly explains my situation."
"Suze you don't have a situation."
"Gord we have a situation. Yours is clearly down to your new desire for boudoir living and mine is done to Yoko Ono. It makes perfect sense. Look what happened to the Beatles!"

I'm sure there is some logic there, but like most things in life it is best not to examine it too closely. I'll get my brush.

The Demographic Shift - 95

2006-03-22T15:38:00.001Z

I've just been reading Jay McInerney's new novel, The Good Life (a sequel to his earlier book Brightness Falls), while the novel doesn't quite rise to the occasion of its post 9/11 subject matter, it got me thinking about music.

Music comes up a couple of times in the book. In one instance a female character smiles inwardly when she realises her lover shares her musical taste (you can tell instantly that the author was a man) and at another point McInerney muses as to whether music should have a sell by date.

I'd been think this a little recently and then I read a post by Harry over at Harry's place who was blogging about a piece in the Guardian on those who are obsessed with their iPods.

I was about to write that I am not obsessed with mine…but then I am on my second one (not including the iPod Shuffle I got as a freebie, which promptly broke), I take it with me everywhere and plug it into my ears during every spare moment when I'm out and about. So maybe I'm a little attached to it.

Anyway, Harry was writing about how the iPod had led him to rediscover old music again. In his case…Squeeze. He's on his own there, but it got me back to thinking about musical sell by dates.

When I first joined the whole iPod bandwagon about two years ago I ripped just about every CD I ever owned onto it and then started to listen to stuff that I hadn't heard in years.

Two things happened. I started to listen to my iPod mostly on shuffle, which is often a weird musical voyage, and I also realised that I really couldn't listen to some songs that I'd bought years ago.

I mean it was completely painful to do so, it really was, this was definitely music that had slipped past its sell by date, which led me to start deleting hundreds of songs.

I found this really hard to do at first as I hoard stuff anyway and this seems to apply equally to the digital realm as well.

For instance I never had a lot of Beatles, but I found that most of what I did have I really couldn't listen to. Out went the Beatles. Billy Bragg was another. I used to be a major Bragg fan. I've seen him live numerous times over the years, but I really can't listen to much of him anymore. Bragg just hasn't aged well.

Springsteen is another, Kristen Hersh, the Smashing Pumpkins and bits of REM. I started to really get into it and deleted vast chunks. Mostly I found myself deleting whole albums sometimes sparing the odd song.

It was kind of therapeutic. The great thing was that once a lot of the crap had gone I started to rediscover a lot of other stuff as it made room for other songs to crop up on Shuffle and got me listening to the whole album again.

Things like Jesus & the Mary Chain, the House of Love, Pale Fountains, the Silver Jews, Pavement, the Breeders, Bob Dylan, Joni Mitchell and Joy Division.

Before I put Joy Division on my iPod, I couldn't remember the last time I'd listened to a song or an album (partly because I had got it into my head that while an important band they were really a bit tough and sometimes painful to listen to so why bother?), despite that if people asked me I would always list them as one of those bands that were significant to me growing up. You know, they were there as part of my musical route map that took me through New Order, the Happy Mondays, Stones Roses, Radio Head et cetera journey to the present with bands like The Editors who are twentynothings doing Joy Division impressions, but you know, in a good way.

I'm still discovering more stuff that has passed its sell by date, but other bits and pieces that haven't. It's a hit and miss kind of process. My iPod is now evenly balanced at 3596 songs.

Music that has shuffled by while writing this blog entry: Harvey Danger, Mojave 3, Jenny Lewis, The Pernice Brothers. Ed Harcourt, Ian Brown, Good Charlotte, Garbage, Spiritualized, Elvis Costello, Radio Head and Teenage Fanclub.

The Demographic Shift - 94

2006-03-15T15:04:00.001Z

Susan is having one of those bizarre moments of insecurity brought on by a piece in The Times this week about a woman who on the eve of her marriage found out that her husband to be regularly visited gay massage parlours.

I know shocker. Who has the time for a secret double life? Susan, of course, is convinced it will happen to her.

"That's bound to happen to me, I just know it."
"What that you're going to meet someone and they will turn out to be a Secretly Gay Man. A SGM?"
"Yes, exactly, I'm convinced that the only men left who are single and even slightly eligible are in fact SGM. Also I'm starting to worry about the significance of the letters SGM – they seem to contain their unfair share of TLA's."
"My thinking too. There's Stoner Media Girl."
"Single Media Grirls."
"I thought the stoners and the singles were all the same?"
"I think you're over reaching, I'm certainly single, work in the media, but do not smoke dope."
"Fair point, but back to SGM."
"I'm sure they're out there lurking. Waiting for a beard like me to come along and provide significant cover. It's the only thing that makes sense."

Susan as a beard? Just the thought of it has me in stitches.

I'm a big fan of giant leaps of logic myself, but even I was having trouble seeing where this one was going. I must admit after she'd sent me the link and I read the piece I'd always thought that men just lacked commitment rather than were of a complete different sexual orientation, which is just plain weird.

The guy in the piece had been going to gay massage parlours for years. Not only that he tended to go very early in the morning. On top of all of this he was planning to get married. It's weird or mixed up, possibly both. But you know what they say it takes all sorts. I like to play a little BFMC2 to unwind whereas it emerges some people prefer to get buggered.

"Suze I'm not that really makes sense, I'm sure that SGM are just a minority and your chances of hooking up with one looking for a legitimate straight relationship to supplement their illicit gay sex shenanigans are slim."
"But it could be anyone, this guy sounds like the perfect man in The Times, puh! He wasn't perfect he was secretly gay. So…"

I hate where the phrase "so" leads. And it is a phrase and not just a single word, it seems to have the ability to project itself far beyond its slim two letter composition.

"So what?"
"I was going to ask you."
"You were going to ask me?"

Oh boy, now I get it. Susan is about to go big with the crazy questions.

"Come on tell me, I have to know are you a SGM?"

If I was drinking coffee I would have been choking, which is why for safety reasons I don't drink coffee whilst on the phone to Susan. That's my top tip of the day, should she ever call you.

"Suze, no, be reassured. I just totally lack commitment. Rather than any inclination to bat for the other side."
"Oh that's a relief, I'm not sure I could take another disappointment."
"Another? What are you talking about? You make it sound like you're Miss Disappointed 2006."
"Oh I'm talking generally and to be honest its more of a feeling than anything else."
"You just need to stop dating people called Robin and Jeremy. Seriously, I'm sure that's at the root of your problem. Oh and people called Johnny."
"Oh don't say that I've had great success with people called Robin and Jeremy besides I'm sure my mother thinks I'll end up with someone like that."
"Actually I thought your mother thinks you'll end up with someone who wears braces, pinstriped shirts and likes to be spanked, you know, the general poster boy for the a generation of city types."
"That's what she hopes, but I think disappointment runs in the family."
"Glad to hear it."

The Demographic Shift - 93

2006-03-04T12:17:00.001Z

I've been stealth dating. You know, dating but really not telling anyone about it…okay so right now not so much with the stealthy part, but to be honest. I was never the most stealthy kid in school.

This has been an odd week. I started it with three potential second dates having been out once with each girl over the last few weeks, but ended it by Friday afternoon with zero dates. It was like date evaporation. Like stealth dating that should definitely be in the dating lexicon.

I drag Susan out to discuss my vanishing romantic life and, well, as it was Friday to drink alcohol. Besides as Susan is going through this resolute non-dating period or as she puts it – "I'm just not looking" – I feel its only fair to share.

"Gord, I can't believe it. You've been holding out on me. This means you have had three first dates and not told me. I'm really disappointed in you."
"Suze to be fair you're not the only. My advice, join the queue. Anyway, I've actually been on four, but the fourth did not warrant any progression what with her being loud and comedy Scottish."
"Four? Where do you find the time?"
"You know, to be honest, I'm not really sure, but you know people are always saying I should get more hobbies."

I guess it's true, I have been industrial dating, you know doing it on a large scale, but true to form I have also been doing it unsuccessfully. It seems to be my thing and everyone needs one of those.

So I explain to Susan what happen. To be strictly truthful, I actually nixed two of the second dates myself. I sort of self sabotaged them. No, I'm not sure what that's about either.

It was sort of like this: we went out and I kind of liked them, but wasn't exactly falling over myself to go out again so I sort of agreed to go out with them again. To be honest I would have probably gone out with the loud Scottish girl again if she hadn't talked about her cat so much. Robert the rascal. No I am not kidding that's what he was called.

Anyway, of course, what I mean is that I sort of agreed to go out with them again by saying to them in quite uncertain terms something along the lines of this:

"Good to meet you last night, we should do it again sometime or something."

See? The key words here are the non-committal sometime or something. Pretty useless, agreed. Anyway in both cases we emailed a bit and made plans. In the first I just left it longer between replying, which she then reciprocated, and it sort of fizzled. In the second we agreed to go out on Thursday, but I left it to her to contact me on the day knowing that this was a complete no no and would lead inexorably to her cancelling with vague arrangements to rearrange. This is exactly what happened.

Pretty bad, I know.

"You're a total nightmare," Susan says.

I nod, of course, she's right, I am.

"But in my defence…"
"You have no defence."
"I know, but if I had a defence it would be that I thought it was kind of polite to vaguely suggest we should go out again. Women like that," I say confidently.

Susan is shaking her head in disbelief.

"Like I said, YOU HAVE NO DEFENCE. Women don't want you to be asked out as a matter of politeness, but out of an honest conviction. Do you have any?"
"Good question, I'm sure I did, you know, at one stage or other."
"You didn't really fancy either of them, why didn't you just say so?"

It's a really good question that requires a really good answer and I have no idea where you would get one of those from.

"Okay, surprise me what about number 3?"
"Oh I was definitely keen, we were going to go out tonight, we had been emailing and texting all week. I thought it would be a good night."
"And?"
"Oh she cancelled on me at like four o'clock. Three hours before we were going to meet."
"Oh that's payback."
"Payback? What are you talking about? She cancelled."
"It's payback, for messing the other two around. You won't get to see number three again."
"We're going to rearrange."
"Oh, I'm sure you'll try to rearrange, but somehow it just won't happen, payback. Anyway, serves you right."
"Hey, that's harsh."
"Gord that isn't harsh, that's dating justice."
"Dating justice? Who implements that? The dating police?"
"A good idea in your case I would say, besides Gord as you very well know everything costs more."

You know, now that Susan mentions it, that does sound kind of familiar.

The Demographic Shift - 92

2006-02-22T13:28:00.002Z

Susan and I are sitting in the pub when Difficult Third Date Girl walks in. I say walks in, but I didn't actually notice this entry until it was far too late and I kind of wish that I had as I could have run away and hid in the loos or something. Just a thought.

I was mid flow when Susan nudged me in the ribs, which she likes to do sometimes for a multitude of reasons that are sometimes hard to decipher, so really, how was I to know that I should stop talking and look up? I mean seriously.

I was in full flow, talking as I was, about one of my current favourite subjects: my kitchen, which is currently a 13ft by 26ft shell of emptiness (bar a hosepipe coming out of one wall and dangly electrical cables) having been completely gutted by the builder (who I haven't seen for a week, but I'm hoping that's just a small thing), which means that I'm sort of living out of the dining room where the new kitchen, fridge freezer and microwave all currently live and hoping that one day soon I'll have super shiny kitchen that will allow me to cook food (rather than heat it –I'm just not made out to be a steamerless and wokless microwave man).

Anyway, I digress, so by the time I worked out what all the nudging was about it was way too late to escape as DTDG was standing right in front of me.

I hate bumping into people that errr, you know, who you used to bump with. Bump with? Who says that? Possibly no one.

"What? Stop nudging…oh."
"Oh," echoed Susan.

DTDG is sort of smiling and is definitely about to say something, but before she does she glances over her shoulder to the guy who is waiting to be served at the bar who is sort of tall with that Richard Ashcroft longish, darkish and slightly lankish hair that says "I'm t a bit of a rocker". Boy do I hate that look.

I loved Urban Hymns as much as much as anyone else. Bitter Sweet symphonies are a personal favourite, but really everything he has done since is total drivel. His last effort was hilariously reviewed in The Guardian (and if you haven't read it) you must.

Oh my point is Richard Ashcroft sucks and really who would date an Ashcroft look-alike? Okay lots of people, fair enough.

Anyway, finally DTDG says something.

"So what are you doing here?"

After she says that I immediately have a number of options, which is bad as like restaurant menus I go to pieces under the oppression of multiple choices.

I could have been polite, courteous and friendly. Or I could have been cutting, glib and bitter, but really to myself sounding a little cool. Finally, of course, I could be totally lame.

I always desperately aspire to be sort of cutting in situations like this, but while it works perfectly with a little rehearsal in my head when I actually step up to the plate, kick some dust and take a swing it all goes oh so wrong. This is a classic example of said situation all going a bit Pete Tong.

"Oh you know Waiting for the New Brunette, the Sirens Call, Godot the usual."

I know, I know, but for a split second, in my head, before the words actually left my mouth, it sounded really good. I thought: genius, I'd managed to work in a Billy Bragg Song, a New Order song and Samuel Beckett. I mean how good was that exactly?

DTDG looks at me for a second and gives me one of those looks that people give you that only mean one thing "I'm trying to workout why I went out with you, but I can't" and then turns around and walks off towards the bar and the Richard Ashcroft alike without another word.

"Oh dear Gord," says Susan, "that was so lame, I can't believe you just said that."

I nod, I know it was incredibly lame, but I couldn't help myself.

"I know, but in my defence I really never claimed not to be lame."
"Oh that's lucky. That was so lame you could probably be elected president of Lame Land and really as a defence its not at all good."
"Gee thanks."
"I have a question though, why?"
"I couldn't help myself, I thought it would sound cool."
"Cool? I think you missed the cool park by a lame mile and gained free entry to the Lame World of Adventure."

Susan was really running with the whole lame idea, but it made me laugh all the same, a theme park devoted to Lameness? I was suddenly reminded of the Dolly Parton girl.

"Okay, I know, lame, I couldn't help myself. I saw Richard Ashcroft and it was all over."
"Richard Ashcroft is good looking. I thought her Ashcroft alike was cute."
"Oh thanks for your loyal and oh so wavering support."
"Gord you know, I'm always elsewhere for you," she smiled, "besides I'd always wondered why you were never ever friends with people you've been out with and now I know. It's because you are incredibly lame. Your Lame Boy, not sure you would be able to catch many supper villains – lameness not being all that potent a superpower."
"Okay, okay, enough already, it's true, I'm stricken by a terrible streak of extreme lameness, but to be fair, I'm usually quite amusing beforehand."
"Amusing then lame…right."
"Look, I could have been cutting and bitter…and that would have been worse."
"No, bitter would have been much much better. Hemmingway was bitter. Interesting people are bitter, not so much with the lame though."
"Suze, I hate to break it to you, but bitter is better? Come on."
"Waiting for the New Brunette?"

I wince it's like hearing your voice played back on a tape.

"But she is a brunette…and …and I'm sort of waiting, you know, so to speak."

Susan shakes her head, not even slightly buying my poor excuse.

"The Siren's Call?"

I wince again.

"Okay, it's not New Order's best effort, fair enough, but…"

"Godot?"
"Okay, point taken, in future, I will only be bitter."

Susan smiles at this.

"A boy after my own heart."

The Demographic Shift - 91

2006-02-13T16:36:00.001Z

I get to see a lot of stupid press releases at work and as its just about Valentine's day it seemed only fair that I share a topical one with you.

It's really lazy blogging, but this one just made me laugh. Virtually half the capital’s men would have sex on the first date if they could. Shocker.

That's right men want sex and right after meeting you. But you know what's stopping them? Women. Just a paltry 14% of women said they would, according to thisislondon.co.uk.

Look at the numbers: 50% of men 14% of women. I'm no maths genius, but that looks like a lot of disappointed men.

I'm not saying sex on the first date is a good idea. Generally it isn't, coming as it inevitably does hot on the heels of a huge intake of alcohol, but I don't quite buy the figures. Only 14% of women? Women seem more happy to skew their answers than men. Or at least skew their answers one way while men go the other way.

The survey asked a range of questions about dating and Valentine’s Day, including who would your ideal blind date be?

Johnny Depp came out tops for women (30%) followed by family man Brad Pitt (21%) and Robbie Williams (17%). Men decided Hollywood’s hottest blonde Scarlett Johansson would be their first choice followed by Keira Knightley (16%) and Angelina Jolie (15%).

No surprises there, but not much imagination either. And really what is with Keira Knightley? I mean specifically and generally? Has she been good in anything? She certainly wasn't the best thing in 'Pride & Prejudice' – that was Rosamund Pike's Jane, by a country mile.

Another shocker: London men believe they can spot who they fall in love with just by looking at them.

Looks alone, surely not, but this comes in contrast to another lie told by women with 65% of women saying personality was the biggest aphrodisiac. Oh please. Happy Valentines day.

The Demographic Shift - 90

2006-02-06T16:14:00.001Z

I totally failed while off sick last week to watch any daytime TV. I feel like I failed somehow. I wish I'd caught some I really do as it's been a while since I saw any and its good to catch up with 'Trisha' every now again, not to mention 'Tyra Banks Show', which LivingTV seems to trail around the clock alternating it between episodes of 'Charmed[less]'.

About all I did see during daytime hours was the second half of an episode of 'Seinfeld'. It was the one where Jerry is dating some woman who looks stunning in a certain light, but not so hot in the shadow. This, of course, completely freaks Jerry out and he turns to trusty George who happens to be familiar, as he would, with this particularly trick of the light.

George: Yes, I am familiar with this syndrome -- she's a two-face.
Jerry: Like the Batman villain?
George: (Annoyed) If that helps you…

The next time Jerry sees said woman she is looking more like the stunner he first met until the cab they are travelling in goes dark for a second Jerry suddenly sees the horror return.

I was laughing for ages at this and had these flashbacks detailing at least two girls I have dated who fell into the "two face" category, you know, more or less.

I know this can't just be a female thing, everyone has their off days, but I have definitely come across it. For instance Moira who was short and blonde and sort of cute until one day she turned up on a date looking really rather bizarre with huge big hair that made her look completely different. It was scary. I couldn't look at her the same way again. It completely changed the way I saw her, even though that night was just a one off.

And then there was a Sophie although to be strictly honest it wasn't so much a face thing as really odd dress sense she would occasionally trip into. I remember thinking, and I've thought it since about other people I've gone out with, that I'm not sure I can walk down the street with you looking like that. It's weird, possibly flaky, but I can't help it.

Then I sort of got it. I had a flashback to a recent (old) episode of the 'West Wing' I'd been watching.

It's the one where Josh Lyman is meeting possible new love interest Amy Gardner (played by Mary-Louise Parker) and who tells him that she knows the problem with "guys like you".

Guys like you she tells him want to be hit over the head. But it's not until a little later when Josh is talking with Rob Lowe's character Sam that we find out exactly who "guys like you" are.

Sam: "She’s the real thing. Stop looking at her different than you did yesterday. The next thing that happens, you find a reason to be mad at her."
Josh: "You're wrong."
Sam : "Guys like you?"
Josh : "Yeah?"
Sam : "I'm one of them."

Isn't TV great, or in the this case the 'West Wing' and 'Seinfeld' in particular. Guys like you, just want any excuse and while this isn't quite a revelatory in nature it did sort of strike me that I too am "guys like you". And really, most of the time, any excuse will do, two faces, bad hair or bad boots.

I'm feeling almost human now, I'm sure all this TV interlinking thing will pass.

The Demograhic Shift - 89

2006-02-01T19:13:00.001Z

Have been totally ill all week, big with the coughing and the spluttering and so low on the activity front, doing not much more than blow nose through boxes of tissues and having vivid dreams brought on by Lemsip Max Strength.

Really they're not kidding about the max bit, I swear it's just more than the lemony goodness they put into that stuff. It's weird I don't dream much, but when I do I have distinct two dreams, or variations there of. The first always ends with me biting down really hard and all my teeth crumble, which obviously means something or other that has nothing to do with teeth (which just so you know as of December check up are superfine and all still there), but really let's not go there just now.

The other one I have is where I am about to sit this exam. At first I have loads of time to write my paper and then no time with just 15 minutes on the clock and not a word have I written. Last time I had this one, in the dream I was oddly desperate to go to the loo, but it was miles away and I couldn't find it and, of course, when I got back there was nothing left on the clock.

Last night I think was some kind of variation on the above. I was back at school and meant to be playing rugby. I was on my way to the game, but when I got to the changing rooms I didn't have my kit or my boots. I go back to look for my kit, which I think it is in my locker, but when I get there it's empty and I know that I am going to miss my change to get mangled on the playing fields of Hertfordshire. This must have been around the time when I still thought flinging myself at people's legs in an effort to bring them down was a great idea. Rather than dangerous and stupid and best left to people with a more natural talent in the whole flinging and downing arena. I'm happy to write the programme.

Anyway, I rush back to the changing rooms thinking I can borrow some boots and stuff and on the way I meet this guy on the stairs who I used to go to school with. That's weird I'm thinking as despite in the dream I am my 12 year-old rugby playing self he appears his thirties and dressed smartly in a pinstriped suit, looking, I guess, pretty much as he might now, but I still recognise him straight off.

We sort of stop for a moment and I then rush on in a vain kitless effort to make the match. I haven't actually seen Darren – as it was him – in about ten years. No idea what he's doing in my dreams or otherwise, like I said blame it on Lemsip Max Strength.

Oh and the other thing I did, today anyway, was watch 'Before Sunrise' and 'Before Sunset' back to back on my laptop in bed. It's the kind of thing you can only do when half conscious and ill. I really love those two films, have seen them both before, but never one after the other.

There are so many good lines peppered throughout, today among others I kind of liked this:

"Yeah, hang on, hang on. It's a, it's a totally scattered thought. It...which is kind of why it makes sense."

The Demographic Shift - 88

2006-01-25T16:35:00.001Z

I get this all the time so I thought that I should actually deal with it rather than, you know, not deal with it.

I got it again the other week from Alison. I was explaining to her a conversation that I'd had with Adam. We had been sitting talking about 'The One', and then about 'The Other One', you know the girl you are suppose to find having screwed it all up with the one. I know. To be honest I have trouble keeping up as well.

"You have to ask the other one out," Adam went.
"I do? How can I? I have no idea who she is, which presents me with something of a problem."
"Oh come on, you know who the other one is already."

Know who the other one is? What was he talking about? If I knew who the other one was would I be sitting there with him? Suddenly my heart was beating a little faster. It was crazy I know, but maybe Adam knows something that I didn't.

"You're insane, of course I don't know who the other one is."
"Oh come on, why don't you just get it done with an ask out Susan."

I coughed and spluttered into my glass of beer. That's where crazy thinking will get you. Adam doesn't know anything that I don't. He is insane. I can't go out with Susan. No one can. That's the rule as Susan is our friend and if we started dating her and…well, she wouldn't be a friend anymore, she would be…I don't know? A girlfriend…or something and really that's bound to get complicated.

"You're insane. I can't go out with Susan."
"I maybe insane, but you're an idiot."

Hmmm.

Anyway, I was explaining Adam's Susan connected insanity to Alison and it turns out she was full of the same variety of craziness. Alison is meant to be super smart and really not full of the same insanity, but I think sense giving birth she might have lost some of that dependable sanity smarts that she once had.

"I don't think that's insane at all. Why won't you go out with Susan?"
"Oh come on not you as well."
"Okay, let me ask you this, do you think she's attractive?"

It's a trick question, but I know, but knowing it's a trick question I still feel sort of inclined to tell the truth.

"Of course she is attractive, but I've known her for years and, well, there you go?"
"There you go? That's not much of an answer."
"I know, but it's all I've got."
"You must have thought about it, come on tell me you have never thought about it."

Really at this point, I should have said that I had never thought about it, but I knew what would happen I would just burst out laughing. I always do that after I have consumed something like a bottle of Chablis.

"Okay, so I might have thought about it, but in my defence only idly, in the same way you think 'mmm, I wonder how the plot of Lost will work out'."
"Ha!"
"Ha? What does that mean?"
"It means just that, I knew you must have given it some thought."
"Yeah, but only in passing, a casual thought. Nothing more."
"I don't believe you? Have you ever made one of those discreet, sneaky hardly even noticeable, footsie type passes? Come on and I can tell when you're lying."
"You can? How?"
"I don't know, it's the big grin or something. I think it gives it all away."
"I can, cross my heart, et cetera, I have never made a sneaky pass. Honest. Now tell me, what my face says?"

Alison looked at me for ages. She leant across the kitchen table, looked left and right, and sat back looking a little disappointed.

"Okay, so no sneaky pass, but Gordie, really you really should think about a sneaky pass."
"Earth to Alison, no sneaky pass, besides the only time I ever tried that it, to be honest it didn't workout so well."
"You made a sneaky pass? I don't think I remember this one? Details."
"It was Karen, remember, who I used to work with?"
"Oh didn't you two sort of hang out a lot?"

It's true we did, we used to go to lots of gigs together. She was perfect in that we both had the same taste in music and she was sort of cool, but there was had never been any chemistry. I had no intention of even doing it.

We were mates and it was kind of embarrassing as I was sober, so I can't really explain it.

We had been at this gig in Kentish Town and were sitting in some pub afterwards when her foot started playing footsie – at least I thought it did – so I did it back, I don't know why, I just did.

"Hey, what do you think you're doing?" she goes.
"Me nothing, it was you and your footsie foot."
"I was not footsing."
"Really?"
"I promise you. I was moving my leg."

Hey, how was I supposed to know? Some people, I tell you.