Did I mention your cunt looks very nice tonight?

“You want pussy? I'll get you some pussy bro. I know all the skanks in this town. Seriously! You're awesome. I just gotta introduce you, they'll sleep with you. It's all good.”

-- Will J., perhaps overestimating his ability to get me laid.

I threw a bunch of coins into the toilet, closed my eyes real tight, and wished. Been taking my medications real regular like a good boy, been laying off the hard drugs (mostly), been drinking a bit too much but hey! a man needs his vices, some way to let off steam. Every so often my friends drag me into the city, say: come pick up some skanks with us! Dutifully I drag my heels, scuff my shoes and shuffle out along with them.

I really hate the women I meet in bars. So not hate exactly, I don't hate them, but I hate the aspects of the situation, the artificiality. We got nothing in common. There's a whole 'nother set of rules and regulations and you can't just be genuine about shit. I listen to my friends discussing pick-up strategy like they was advanced game theorists, like move, counter-move, checkmate. Completely calculated. A computer simulation of nuclear war. What will we do when the Ruskies attack? Deploy submarines Admiral – silent running, try to sink her battleship with your pink heat seeking flesh torpedo, and if that fails just ram the bitch. KABOOM! To the lifeboats. Every man for himself.

So I basically end up just sitting on my barstool with my greasy limp dick in my greasy damp hands desperately trying to get drunk and avoiding any and all attempts at conversation.


“What do you do?” - claiming to work for the inland revenue department is a sure-fire way to kill any further lines of questioning, except perhaps for my absolute personal favourite: “So what do your tattoos mean?”, well, I feel like screaming -- I don't -- well they mean absolutely fucking nothing to you but they mean a whole damn shitload to me and how am I meant to explain that? Instead I launch into a story about drinking industrial alcohol with Russian sailors and waking up mysteriously on a Russian fishing trawler. I know! They were just there in the morning. Yeah. Crazy isn't it?

By the way I just found out from my doctor I have hepatitis C. Yeah. Oh yeah baby, it's contagious.

---

It took me until the morning, but in the end I made the sandwich.