I’ve just woken up and it’s 17:39 to find once again, I have over slept by a few miles and missed out on a pre-planned trip to the cinema with people who are making it more and more obvious to me that the friendship is becoming less of a friendship and more like a neighbourly situation between a drag queen and an Anglican priest: be polite, be tolerant, let’s not get over excited. The sleeping through the trip to see Wonder Woman may put some strain on that relationship, perhaps as much as going to see the movie before them with a woman I was hoping to sleep with despite the pre-arranged plans.
It took me a long time to realise that selfish behaviour isn’t as poisonous as every teen drama bullshit story line professes it to be. It allows your life to be a quiet island with a very protectionist foreign policy that while is inherently isolating, the day-to-day reads more like N.H.K. ni Yōkoso! (featuring a lack of motivation to compromise leading to little to no actual friends rather than crippling shyness) rather than any Harry Potter book – magical and full of romanticised ideas of friendship that has created unrealistic expectations for children across the world. Those traitorous little novels even infected my own forty-four-year-old father and have perhaps skewed his world view more horrifically than anything on YouPorn ever could.
Through this, I found truth in the line from Californication (the smutty comedy series with David Duchovny not the world famous Red Hot Chilli Peppers song): ‘there is no right and wrong, only the consequences of your actions’. Since the friends have returned from the cinema trip, the consequence has been very brief uncomfortable conversations and a faltering veil of politeness. For people who spend their time around me complaining how they wish I wasn’t around them, they’re taking it rather sorely. I had the same experience back home: a confusing knife edge between ‘fuck off’ and ‘where the fuck are you going’. It’s sadly nostalgic like Diane Abbott in a sweet shop.