if i wasn't your friend, i would probably hate you..

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Tuesday, 14 September 2010


I remember I had a party, when I was about 16 or 17, it was about the time when people had starting driving because I remember the Mini Coopers and the brand new Corsas and the Clios that lined the pavements along my humble little street and the way nobody could park properly (except the boys) so all the cars looked lopsided along the street. And it was back when nobody knew quite what they liked to drink, so there was Apple Sours and Archers and lemonade and obviously Vodka and those vile smelling alcopops that made everyone's breath smell fake and sweet. There were drinking games and everyone determined to get pissed and it was back when drinking yourself into oblivion didn't leave you with a hangover and a suicide wish so it was lairy and fun and also quite weird because EVERYONE came. The cool kids and the people who wanted to be different and the smart people and the people just interested in the weekend and it was the summer we had all bonded and became a bit of a community. A community which suffered and split when the long days started to end and the codes and regulations of the school social network ripped apart genuine friendships and thrust us all back into the stereotyped groups we all belonged in.

We played "Have You Ever" and drank until the alcohol ended and we ended up drinking leftover wine and gin and weird Mexican spirits from the cupboard and people fell asleep on couches and others fucked in my sister's room and then others fell asleep on her bed, or snuck off to my parent's room ( back when they were together) to perform amateur but very sexy oral on somebody else's boyfriend. And the atmosphere was good- there wasn't any of this weird bitchiness which used to envelop whole nights, caused by someone's jealousy or someone else's fear of someone claiming their boyfriend/girlfriend because they weren't paying enough attention to them.  Everyone was pissed and merry and we danced to bad music and we drank until we couldn't see and when I decided that no one else seemed to be leaving and most people left were going to crash, I headed upstairs to my bed where a friend I knew was also sleeping. But he was cool, we had kissed a few times and it hadn't worked out- I simply didn't fancy him but we were mates- he talked about his girlfriend and I talked about the recent split with my boyfriend and we went shopping and made food for each other and it was (naively) platonic. So as the room was spinning I lay down on my side of the bed and let the room spin as I passed out into a drunken stupor.

I was semi-awake when I felt someone kissing me on my neck.It was warm and nice and I started kissing back and was so pleased because i thought it must be Chris who I had just split up with. And the split was amicable and it wasn't weird to think he was kissing me because it was only a few weeks ago and back then, I wasn't used to him not really being around. And then I heard "Oh Anna you are so sexy" and I immediately awoke because- well it wasn't Chris' voice, it was someone else's. It was my friend's. And I was alarmed, I started to panic a bit and I looked up and realised he was actually on top of me and between my legs and my nighty had been pulled up and my knickers were pulled down and his boxers were halfway down his legs, and the room was spinning still. I tensed up and whispered "Stop, stop, stop, what is going on?" ( I don't know why I whispered, I guess I wanted him to wake up too and it all be innocent- like he was doing it in his sleep) and he gripped my arms and pushed them back and held on and I said his name. Louder this time. And I told him to get out and I struggled and the water bed beneath us, thrashed around and my head was spinning but he clung onto me for about thirty seconds before he let go and pulled his boxers up and I drunkenly scrambled out of bed. I didn't know what to do-I didn't want to tell anybody because nothing had really happened, had it? And  I was so drunk that everything was a bit blurry but I knew that at the time, I was scared. And I found a sofa downstairs (next to someone else who was blotto, but at least I wasn't on my own) and just pulled a throw over me. I pulled it over my head and I lay there, trying to remember everything in the darkness of the blanket until I fell asleep.

In the morning he was still there, and I couldn't look at him and I didn't say anything but we both knew. The remaining people went for breakfast but we never made eye contact and we didn't sit or stand anywhere near each other. And I kept thinking "But you have a girlfriend" when he was explaining his plans about visiting her and I hated the way he didn't even make an excuse about how he behaved. I hated his silence and I hated mine more.

Some times I get an email from him, which I ignore and sometimes a text, but I never reply and I have never seen him since. And I'm glad because now it doesn't seem real. And I don't want it to be.

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