Welcome to London Kid

“There are so many important fundamental questions we should be asking any prospective partner in life before we potentially get together. Instead people are just chatting inane shit when they first meet like what's your favourite colour? What do you do for a living? Do you have any pets? And the one you should always make your excuses and leave after, what's your star sign? We may be overlooking those important fundamental questions because they appear, I don't know, too simplistic or maybe… or maybe it's because they're perceived to be something they're not, like… which side of the bed do you sleep on? I mean, two wrongs don't make a right, right? So two lefts won't make a right. Am I right? And if I am right, then the follow up question is how do you feel about sleeping in separate beds and IF…if they're finding it all a bit forward or awkward then you don't need to ask anymore questions because even if you find them physically attractive, they're not the person for you. You're not asking about sex. You're asking them if you can function together as a basic pairing. No one can function without a good night's sleep, it is, as they say, a basic fact of life. No sleep leads to consternation and consternation leads to arguments. All those quirks you find attractive in the first months become like a series of cheese graters set at various points around your home which you cannot avoid no matter how hard you try. Only posh wankers in Barbour jackets want to go anywhere near a cheese grater with their skin and not with actual cheese and apparently pay a lot of money for the privilege as well." 

So here we are again with one of Alex's notorious rambles. The thing about them is just at the moment you think he's finished with his brain dump and about to take off on a one man victory lap he's off to the races again. If you want to get a word in edgeways then my advice is that you get it in quick…

 

“Oh and know that very few people, men especially, want to change. We've all lived with ourselves twenty four hours a day since the day we came into the world crying and screaming to be put back in. To suggest we're not comfortable with who we are is a lie to ourselves and each other. We couldn't function if we didn't feel that way. Your consciousness might be thinking one particular way, you're telling yourself I must be a better version of myself and to be fair society and glossy magazines are giving you the same message, but your subconscious is thriving. It's going go into the kitchen and get me another one of those delicious cookies. I fucking love you, you fat wobbly bastard! Suicide, hmmm, now that's a different kettle of fish. That…that you see, is… well it's brought… on… by… well it's brought on by extreme trauma. Then ironically… people, those types of people struggling getting a kicking from life every single day, they do really want to change but there are just some things you can't change from your past no matter how much you'd like to and what's equally as painful, NO even more painful is that you can't forget. You try everything you can to, but no matter how hard you try your demons are still there. You've tried the booze, the drugs, sex, shopping… nothing works. That little voice inside your head just won't shut up. It's going yap, yap, yap, yap 24 hours a fucking day… But that's … well that's a different story for a different day.”

There's another pause. If you've got something valuable to add now's the time; 10,9,8,7,6… Alex’s facial expression changes for a microsecond appearing briefly pained by a memory, but like the world whooshing past the train window you couldn't be sure you'd seen it, certainly not at a 90° angle to the rest of your body. Experienced window watchers know an angle of 20-30° is best on a fast moving train. Experienced Alex watchers know that you had your chance. Too late. Whatever that thought or question that came into your head when you saw that facial flicker, you'll have to keep it to yourself because…

“For the less fucked up of us, the fundamental basic principle is do not go into a relationship thinking you'll change someone, and that my pedigree chum is especially prevalent to the fairer sex cause you won't change men, stubborn little bastards all of us. So OK you might find a malleable one but if you want loyalty for example you'd get a…?”

Poor Tony, he sits and shuffles in his seat feeling like the proverbial rabbit caught in the headlights, his brain scrambling on its hands and knees it doesn't have attached to it for the correct answer. 

“Erm….a dog?”

“House! We have a winner. BIN-GOOOOO. If a woman wants to be sexually satisfied she should?”

Tony can feel his palms start to sweat with that natural awkwardness most men feel when asked any question that involves women and sex. Girls … girls are great at girl talk, that's why it's called girl talk not boy's talk about girl talk or something like that… Tony decides that last thought isn't proving to be particularly helpful. Think man think…

“Oh…christ erm, ahhhh…buy a … viiiibraaatorrrr?” The last word is less said, more a long drawn out whisper that cannot contain the awkwardness of saying the word vibrator in a public space.

“Ding ding ding what does he win Johnny?” Alex's response is anything but a whisper though it does level up Tony's awkwardness to a level he didn't realise was possible. He can feel his cheeks start to flush like they were suddenly translucent and someone had opened up the top of his head and were busy pouring a can of Cherryade in. Tony wishes for the millionth time that his best friend came with a mute button or at least an ability to turn the volume down. Nope can't find the remote…

“Any fool can say I love you to a woman but ACTUALLY … ACTUALLY showing you love her is an alien concept to most men. Love isn't a bunch of fucking flowers. Flowers are for saying I've proper fucked up this time. Perfume? Don't be silly that just hints at your old lady being a bit pongy you know. Material stuff, that ain't love. Going I love you darling, that ain't fucking love either. Throwing yourself in front of a moving car so she doesn't get hit, now that's fucking love. Fuck, find yourself a geezer like that and you've made it, well, until the poor cunt gets flattened by a Transit van cause you were too busy looking at your fucking phone and not where you were going. No, what women need is to realise and truly grasp is the basic rudimentary fact that men don't want to be changed. Women generally know what they want from life, way more fucking organised than us, can't tell a lie. But once they've figured it out, they need to realise that it has to be found from a variety of sources. Accept the reality of the situation and tell themselves I'm going to have to find, I don't know - kinship through a friendship. She might find … adventure through a different friendship. Pretend I'm a lady for a moment. What I'm not doing, whatever it is that I want in life and what I'm looking for, is to think I can find it all in the one person or think that I can mould and change that person into becoming the giver of all things.”

Tony looks at Alex and nods his head in agreement which appears to appease Alex as a smug look on his face appears as if he's metamorphosising into Tigger. That would make Tony what? Pooh Bear? No probably more like Piglet afraid that Alex will start bouncing about at any moment in a confined space. Is he done? He looks like he's done. Phew he's finally finished. Tony just starts to let his guard down and unclench his tightened fists. The tension that runs through his body owed to the awkwardness of being in Alex's company is some days frankly unbearable. Oh no damn you man you fell for it again. Tony sees that ignition spark as the petrol from Alex's mind is ready to be burned through once more… his subconscious tells his body you went too soon, you went too soon, you fell for it again - strap yourself back in and tighten up, brace for impact, there's more incoming…

“Jesus was a good dude right? Well sometimes you want to be pinned down and nailed somewhere into next week. I don't mean like nailed to a cross or nothing you know? You want to be fucked like the other person's life is depending on it. That's what Becky told me, you remember her don't you, course you do stupid question. Anyways Jesus wouldn't have been that brother. Or maybe he was and they skipped that part in the Bible. Moses parted the red sea but that boy Jesus, ohhh Shit bro he made the ladies gush!”

"I'm sorry but really…do you mind?" 

A lady from a seat in front interjects sternly, having turned around and poked her head through the space in between the two headrests and looked straight at Alex with a glare. Big mistake Tony thinks to himself. 

"No I don't mind at all but I do now mind you and if you'll excuse us we are having a private conversation here so If you could stop listening and interrupting that would be great thank you. Clearly your parents forgot to teach you basic manners when you were a child but to be fair looking at you I'm guessing that was half a century ago so I'm telling myself that's OK you know cause old people forget. I'm going to let you off this one time because my parents, unlike yours clearly, well they taught me well enough as to know why it's rude to listen into other people's conversations and worse to interrupt when it's none of their FUCKING BUSINESS. Oh and Jesus, crap in bed, but he taught forgiveness and I'm going to find it in my heart to forgive you."

For the briefest of moments Tony thought she was getting to her feet to attack Alex but she made a loud huffing noise as if to suggest she'd never been so insulted and stomped off down the carriage. If she thought that was an insult she'd gotten off quite lightly compared to some of the scenes of carnage he'd been a first hand witness to over all the years the two friends had known each other.  

Tony said a quick prayer to a God he didn't believe in to make it all stop and like all prayers with no one there to hear them apart from yourself it went unaided. 

"Christ women 'ey. Anyway where was I? Oh yeah, you're not going to find your soul mate in a nightclub or happy ever after love at a speed dating night at your local pub. Great places for a hook up and regret if that's your thing though. Same goes for sliding into the DMs of someone having stalked their perfectly curated version of what they want you to think they and the life they lead is like. A picture paints a thousand words, 999 of which are most likely bullshit."

"Oh, is that how the quote goes?" Tony asks somewhat perplexed.

"No Tone, that's called ad libbing. Maybe we work up to that one with you. My bad."

Ah there it is. My bad, never sorry. Sorry seems to be the hardest word. Who sung that? Tony thinks to himself and then starts to sing the line in his head as if by some minor miracle it will draw the answer from the recesses of the shit show that is memory. He doesn't get further than sorry seems before Alex breaks his attempt at memory recall. Tony makes a mental note to try to figure it out later knowing full well that his mental version of a post it note would be blown away by the imaginary gusts of wind in his head and land up on Forgotten Street. 

"If you want to find out about a person's character, have them play poker," and just like that Alex shut up and crossed his arms as if he'd found the ideal solution to the worldwide problem of finding a suitable partner. 

Silence descended across the carriage. You could cut the confusion that now hung in the air with a knife. This must have been what it like for the soldiers in WWII when the shelling stopped and the chaos was suddenly interrupted by silence. A carriage full of people holding onto their helmets wondered if it was safe to now come up for air. Tony was curious to know what that last bit actually meant but curiosity in this instance would mean breaking the silence for not only him but everyone else around him who'd had to suffer the matinee performance they'd inadvertently brought tickets to, mistakenly thinking they'd brought a ticket on the 1207 bound for Waterloo. 

The gentleman sat behind who'd had a front row seat throughout said performance felt a supernatural force guiding his body forward and the words go on ready to spring cat like from his mouth. Perhaps he'd jump up and start a song and dance routine like he was in Grease, show a bit of ankle and start singing tell me more, tell me more. He plants both feet to stop himself moving closer and popping his head through the gap in front and puts a hand over his mouth not wishing to become the next victim for the crime of listening into something it was impossible not to do so to in the first place. He made a mental note to bring headphones next time I'm on a train and his mind began to wonder about the perceived benefits of watching someone play poker if you wanted to know about their character.

Eyes dart across the carriage from one stranger to the next all looking at each other for a social clue as to what to do next. As they did so the train began to slow as it ventured further into the city's heart. 

The silence continued unabated under Alex's magic spell until it was finally broken by a small boy like a modern day Arthur soon to be anointed King as he pulled the metaphorical sword from the stone. "What does that say mummy?" He asks and points out the window and everyone looked now under the small boy King's power. The chuckles that followed were like a contagious airborne disease skipping fast from one passenger to the next and the little boy King was the only person not in on the joke. Thankfully for his mother the train had passed before he'd had a chance to spell out loud the letters 'F U C K T H E B A N K E R S.' Thankfully also for his mother he didn't ask what everyone was laughing at…

Welcome to London kid.