Love Poetry

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‘You’ve only come so you can write about it,’ the guy says, with an irritating smile.CC Image courtesy of dichohecho on Flickr

I scan the room.  ‘Hmm.’ 

It’s a birthday drinks.  I don’t drink, and I don’t like the birthday boy.  And the guy I’m speaking to, I was mildly obsessed with for about a year before he hooked up with my best friend – two days ago.  So I’m having a whale of a time.

 

The only dating potential I’ve found so far is propping up the bar.  He’s got a slight paunch – the mark of the mature student – and is wearing a t-shirt bearing the slogan ‘I love Cromer’.  Get too close and he starts spouting poetry.

 

I’ve had enough of ‘elephant in the room’ conversation with smiling guy.

‘I’m gonna head.  Goodnight.’

I do head, to the bar; I’m in the mood for a poem.  Since we last spoke, Paunch has communed with a couple of beers, and I find him in high spirits.  He might be gay – did I mention? – but he’s also frighteningly clever and well-read, and, well, you know what they say about opposites attracting.

 

Three missed Byron references later, I’m stammering out an apology/explanation, whilst he writes down, not his phone number, but a reading list.  Yep.  I leave the joint with the following prescription:

  • Geoffrey Hill
  • Kipling (not the cake – I checked)
  • Some obscure poet
And orders to watch Azerbaijan’s Eurovision entry.  Did I say might be gay?
CC Image courtesy of PanARMENIAN_Photo on Flickr



Every Breath You Take

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‘So,’ I say,this guy friend…’CC Image courtesy of Craft*ology on Flickr

A concept I clearly struggle with.

‘… I need to corner him into inviting me to something…’

Or just corner him.

‘… and if he doesn’t invite me, then it’s no-go?’

‘Oh gosh,’ Toby says, ‘I don’t know.  When you’re talking to him, make very obvious double-entendres – and play with a necklace.’

Presume he means mine. 

Wink constantly.’

He’ll certainly notice me.

‘And breathy voice.  That’s really important because it’s sexy.’

‘I’ll leave my inhaler at home.’

‘Smoke a cigar on the way over.’

‘Shall I strip as well, leaving the necklace on of course?  I don’t think you’re taking this entirely seriously, Toby.’

‘Well, this is just what I do.  Works everytime.’

The following evening, things are not going according to plan.  I text Toby.

‘I’m wearing a necklace.  Now what?’

I trust that he’ll assume I’m also wearing clothes.

Later that night, he replies,

‘Did it work?’

‘No.’

CC Image courtesy of Brian Birke on Flickr



My Single Friend

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‘Have you tried My Single Friend?I say.CC Image courtesy of Roger Blackwell on Flickr

Toby and I are discussing online dating, online.

‘I could write your profile!’ 

Toby is a big fan of colons, and sometimes uses them correctly.  He knows not to wear beige… 

I don’t send this; the colon comment would annoy the crap out of him. Instead I go to the site, and start browsing. Nick’s kinda cute; Sally has this to say about him:

Nick likes meeting new people, seeing new places, and trying new things. 

Like monogamy?

He enjoys the finer things in life.

For a change.

CC Image courtesy of MarxFoods.com on Flickr



New Post

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Toby was recently appointed Chief Consultant on ‘male perspective’, since speaking to Flatmate became too much like watching the news: relentlessly depressing.  Toby on the other hand makes rejection fun.  He sends me little tables, like this:

Making rejection fun

So when I start despairing that the guy I like hasn’t replied to my Facebook message because it was too chatty and too long, and therefore he’ll have realised I like him and so will have run for the hills… when that happens, I can consult the table and find out that it doesn’t matter and that I’ll live.  Which is hugely reassuring.

CC Image courtesy of flowercat on Flickr


 

Bright Star

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I’ve asked Toby for advice about the whole ‘Joe’s flatmate‘ situation.  Or lack thereof.Thalia_sarcophagus_Louvre

‘What’s so amazing about this guy?’ he says.

Aside from the fact he’s not you?

‘Do you want to violently undress him?’

This, I ignore.

‘He’s funny…’ I say.

Or rather he thinks I’m funny, which is much more important.

‘… and he seemed to like me.’

You should try it sometime.

‘Not to be sneered at, no?’

Toby’s verdict comes back:

‘Funny and into you: necessary but not sufficient.’

He also looks a bit like Ben Whishaw.  I rest my case.

CC Image courtesy of Rev Stan on Flickr