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Sport 37: Winter 2009

Proposition of the Week

page 94

Proposition of the Week

I went round to visit Masha. Her flatmate was standing on the street smoking. 'She's home,' he said. 'Her light's on.'

I peered in her window. She wasn't. 'Maybe she's upstairs,' I said.

'No,' he said. 'She isn't. She must have just left her light on.' He unlocked the door for me. She wasn't in the bathroom either.

'You don't have to go,' said her flatmate. 'You could stay and hang out. Do you want a beer?'

'No, thanks. I'll see ya later.'

'Hey, that's pretty ah . . . that thing in your lip, that's pretty ah . . . hardcore.'

'Is it?'

'Yeah, it's like punk or something. But you don't, I mean, you don't look like a punk.'

'Well, I actually do listen to a lot of punk music.'

'You?! You?! Nah!'

'Yeah, I do.'

'Well, I like punk! Yeah, I like punk.'

'Yeah? What bands do you like?'

'Just ah . . . I mean, I don't like English stuff. I've ah, I've actually got a punk CD.'

'A CD? '

'A punk compilation. It's called . . . Punk. Or something. I got it for a dollar. Do you want a beer? I'll put it on. I'll put it on in the lounge. I bought a stereo. We can listen to music in the lounge.'

'Nah, I don't drink,' I said. 'I won't have a beer, but I guess I could stay for a bit.'

He found a second punk CD that he'd bought for a dollar. Not a compilation, a whole band. He put it on. It sounded a lot like Limp Bizkit. It was called Scrap.

He got straight into it. 'Do you have a boyfriend?'

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'Me? Nah. Do you?'

'No.'

'Oh, you should get one. You should really get one.'

'So do you have a girlfriend?'

'Me? Just Masha.'

'OH!' his eyes went wide.

'Nah, she's not my girlfriend, we just slept in the same bed for three weeks.'

'OH!' he repeated and his eyes went wide again as he drew a logical, yet false, conclusion.

'So do you just see girls?'

'Me?' I don't know why I kept asking me, me, me like a sick kitten. I guess I was hoping he was talking to someone else but there was no one else in the room. 'No, I don't see anyone. I don't . . . I don't like seeing people. I don't like to see anyone.'

'Do you want to go out with me?'

'What? What do you mean? Do you mean, like, on a date?'

'Yeah. I guess.'

'Ah . . . ah, no. No, I don't like going on dates. I, um, I don't go on dates. Ever. But um, thanks for the offer.'

'Oh, I'm not your type, eh? I drink?' I tried to gauge whether he was hurt and whether the situation I was in was now an awkward one but it didn't seem to be. It was hard to tell. He was giving a pretty good impression of being really, really stoned.

'Ah, no, it's not, ah, it's not that. It's . . . I just don't want a boyfriend right now, I don't want one till . . . um, till June 2010.'

'2010?!'

'Yeah.'

'That's really far away.'

'Yeah, but I'm really busy.'

'What about sex? Just some, a bit of sex?'

'Nah, I'm too busy, eh. I haven't got time for that shit.'

'You're not going to have sex with any guy till 2010?'

'Yeah.'

'You're gonna be so gay by the end of that. You won't want a man ever again. You'll be all gay by that time. All gay.'

'Oh nah.'

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'You'll be all gay. You'll never sleep with a man again.'

'You reckon?'

He drifted off for a bit. After a while he said, 'Boy, this is good stuff, huh?'

It was really horrible. 'Yeah,' I said.

'I mean, this is really good. For a dollar. I love this song. It's good. Sounds like Rage Against the Machine, don't you think? The singer. The singer sounds a lot like Rage Against the Machine.'

It sounded a lot like Limp Bizkit. 'Yeah,' I said. 'Are you quite stoned or something?'

'Me? Nah. Haven't smoked today. I don't smoke much. I would if I had a lot of weed. If it was free. I'd smoke all the time.' He was thoughtful. He seemed lost in a dream. After a long, long time he said, '2010, that's just, what, next year. It's just next year, 2010. I think I must be living in the past or something. I thought it was 2007. I thought, 2010, that's three years away, but it's actually just next year. Because it's 2009 now, not 2007.'

'Yep.'

'You think you might want to . . . to have some casual sex between now and then? Just to . . . keep in practice?'

'What, make sure my organs don't seize up, you mean?'

'Yeah, just to . . . you know, make sure everything still works down there. Keep the muscles moving. Because if you did, you know, I could give you my number and you could, you could ring me.'

'Nah, I know where you live.'

'Yeah! Yeah, you know where I live! Just knock on my door! Any time! Any time, just come in and we can have casual sex, no strings or anything, don't have to go on a date or anything, just some sex. Or if, you know, if you need a bit of exercise and don't want to go for a walk. It's quite good exercise.'

'Cheaper than the gym, huh?'

'Yeah.'

'Well, thank you very much. It's very kind.'

'Yeah, any time, you're welcome. I've just got to check on my food. Feel free to run away or something.' If stoned people race, he raced upstairs to the kitchen, but they don't really, do they? He said he wasn't stoned. That's what he said. I thought it would be a bit cruel to page 97 leave and I came round here so often there was no point. I'd only see him again. So I stayed.

'I'm not a very good chef,' he said when he came back down. (He worked as a chef.) 'I burnt it. Do you want another beer? Oh, no, you don't drink. Well, I'm gonna have one. How old are you, by the way?'

'How old are you?'

'Thirty-three.'

'I'm twenty-five. Do you know how old Masha is?'

'She's twenty-one! You got yourself a younger girl, eh?' he poked me in the leg as if to say, you sly dog, and I grinned in a manner I have always imagined could be described as wry, because she's not my girlfriend and never has been but every time, I can't be bothered clearing that up with anyone.

'Well, I might get home,' I said. 'Do some work.'

'All right, all right,' he said, 'see you.'

'See you!'

Even while I was sitting in the lounge, in the midst of the conversation, I was wondering what I was going to write about it. Even while I was sitting there, I was thinking, all I ever write about is people trying to pick me up. Doesn't anything else ever happen to me?