I kissed a girl on Thursday night. It was all tongues. I'd just bought her a rose from the dodgy flower seller who strolls around the club every week trying to get gullible boys to buy his tacky tat. We were celebrating her birthday which, it turns out was a fabrication of
his imagintion. They simply didn't want to wait in the line outside, so phoned up in advance, claiming to be having a party, wanting special treatment. It seems we'd been to the same school for seven years and never come across one another. Funny old world. The kiss wasn't exactly voluntary though - I was under pressure from the boy to kiss her, I suppose under the assumption that we'd move on to one-another after that. I don't think so honey! Next time.
Anyway, more coercion expected tonight as we'll be seeing each other in one way or another, this evening too. Perhaps I'll take my camera so all the world can have a look at the guy. Oh, and we were all in the line the other day and one of his friends points to another guy behind us in. "He's eighteen you know! Oh my god!" V exclaimed. So I'm kind of like, "ummmmmmm, I'm eighteen too. Only for a few days now, but still, eighteen."
"oh"
Ooops. And then
he asks me again how old I am, clearly not remembering, and then asks me to estimate his age. I hate this little game because unless you get it in a three year band or exact age, or one year either side, you're going to insult someone. So I'm like, "uh, twenty-three?".
Too high.
Twenty.
He looks dejected for a moment, and then moves on. I hope.
Fuck the age thing, who cares anyway, some people I know who're almost thirty are far less mature than I am. Age doesn't mean that much any more, upbringing and outlook do. If you have a directly contrasting view of life from someone that's going to place you far more at odds than a few years age difference, I can assure you.