We Mustn't Be Anti Social, It Isn't Becoming

We were doing our customary sit around the coffee table in the morning eating our breakfast when Raymond text a joint text to four friends asking if any, or all, of us wanted to go out for dinner, go out for drinks, whatever.

I get nervous now when friends text out of the blue to get together. I thought that as you got older ease with friends and social occasions gets easier, but I, actually, think the opposite is true. When You were young you were gung-ho, full of the enthusiasm of the newness of life, every thing and every one was exciting, to be completely absorbed and, at least, some of the time, fucked and kissed and taken in your arms. But even if it wasn’t to be fondled, every event was an opportunity for wonderful things and amazing things to happen. We were young and beautiful and the world was to be tasted and experienced. You know, that is your twenties.

I think by the time you get just a little bit older, you realise that most of that probably isn’t true, isn’t going to happen and a boring experience is just as likely as an interesting one.

In your forties, there is so much, I guess, jaded been there, done that, had a great time, creeping into your psyche that you know, well, at least some of the time, you are just not going to have the best time of your life.

And Sam is always nervous, rightly, or wrongly, true, or not, he still lives under the idea that English, perhaps, isn’t his first language. He has a thick accent sure, which isn’t always easily understood in a noisy environment, but his English is just fine. It must be a difficult switch to make though.

So between the two of us, you will understand that we can be pretty hopeless in that regard. But, you know, it is like jumping out of an aeroplane, or launching myself off down a ski slope, I just have to close my eyes and jump. Just jump! Grit my teeth and jump. It’s how I make a lot of my decisions nowadays. I over-think them for a while and then… It’s stupid, it’s irrational, it is dumb, but that is how I have to treat it. Otherwise, I just don’t make decisions. Failure to launch, as they say. I know it is what I am going to have to do regarding a job very soon. I don’t know why? I don’t know when it started? But it did, at some age past 30. I never used to be like this, but then, as I said previously, I was young and stupid.

A few texts backwards and forwards and it was decided on the vegi bar at 7pm.

Sam and I went for a walk in the late afternoon. We set off on “the circuit” in the normal direction, but then I remembered I hadn’t lodge my tattsLotto for the week, so we returned home and got my wallet and first did tattsLotto in Smith Street and then set off around “the circuit” in the opposite direction to normal. Walking west up Johnson Street in the late afternoon was walking into the bright hot sun. The last of days, as the world shines its last hurrah of sweet sunshine. Hand over the eyes, delicious shadows on the inside of my eyelids. The long hot afternoon of my experience drawing to a close. It will never be this warm and this bright ever again.

The best of days, right here with me and you. I look over at the bright, crisp sun on Sam’s blemishless, handsome face and think once again how lovely he is and how lucky I am. We’re both lucky, he’s lucky to have me too.

We bought wine in Smith Street and then walked over to Brunswick Street and the Vegi Bar. Raymond had text twice between 7pm and 7.10pm when we got there, clearly being even fashionably late is no longer in vogue, certainly not in Raymond’s world anyway.

Kevin and Brent were going to be joining us also. Lovely clever Kevin and handsome Brent. Brent who I had a very strange drunken night with, when he was blotto and he wanted me to sleep with him up at Bolago. He was very insistent and quite demanding, so I went along as it seemed to be the simplest way forward. He made me undress and we slept naked in each other’s arms. He’s never seemed to remember it since. On the last occasion when we saw each other after that, I got the feeling by the end of the evening in question he got a certain look on his face that maybe said I am remembering what happened. But, the evening was over after that and we haven’t seen each other since, which is a few years ago now.

Brent didn’t seem to have any such recognition this time around. Yo know and that is cool, in fact, maybe preferable. Not that I ever get embarrassed by such things, who cares, we’re all just getting through. Kevin sat next to me and was his usual charming self. Jeff and Raymond told me about their new house, which in their telling of the purchase, seemed to e a fact that I should have know but some how missed. I’m not sure why I felt that? Raymond is doing his MBA, which he says he is loving.

The vegi bar was hopping. There was a permanent queue for people wanting a table.

The food seemed to be remarkably cheap, just $20 each.

Afterwards, Brent, Kevin, Sam and I walked home together through Fitzroy. Kevin lived in an apartment just a block from Brunswick Street. He assured us he would have invited us in if his place hadn’t been such a mess. Brent lives in Collingwood, so he walked us to X Street where we parted ways. It just seemed so lovely walking through the quite back streets of our neighbourhood, gentle and relaxed. Just a pleasant stroll. It’s why we all treasure the inner suburbs and it is why we are all so aghast at medium density housing threatening to fuck it all up in it’s pursuit of making property developers rich.