This Glynn thing happened over ten years ago right. Glynn, Nero and I and about a dozen other people were pretty close at University.
We were all mature students with mature drug habits, usually alcohol, and we were all from the four corners of the UK and US. Talk about microcosms.
We pissed it all day and partied all night. Being a film student everyone used to joke that all I got to do was sit in a darkened room and stare at projections on the wall all day. It was great. Anyway, more of that later.
To start with none of us were sleeping with each other and everything was OK. When Nero and I got together things changed. God, At first I couldn’t stand the mouthy Goth, whose tits kept falling out deliberately when she was pissed and 'leant' over. It probably was Glynn who really fancied her but his South Yorkshire burr used to tell us that he didn’t – they were “Just friends”. (I have since found out this actually means “I fancy you rotten but don’t either have the confidence in myself to ask you out or am fearful of rejection and besides you mightn’t live up to the high pedestal I’ve put you on or you don’t fancy me as much but, hey, I’m willing to hang around with you until you let me sleep with you).
“Good”, I thought. “Because I’m her friend too. Actually I’m her best friend and she sleeps with me”. Which is a bonus.
So, one night we’re at this ‘disco’; a calamitous student affair at Christ Church College. The only reason we have gone there is because Glynn has been told that Christ Church has three women to every one man.
Later in the night, we’re really pissed by this time, he bundles me into a corner so I can’t escape and pushes himself in real close to my face and his nose is mere centimetres from mine. In a hushed, pissed slur he sinisterly whispers in my ear “Don’t you EVER hurt Neroy…”, (He always called her Neroy even though, as I’ve told you, she hates it and insists on being called Nero), “…because IF…” (emphasis on the ‘if’) “… you do. You’ll have ME…" (he shouts that bit) “…to answer too. OK?”
“OK?” he repeats and cocks his head at a funny angle and raises an eyebrow.
I eventually recover and am appalled really, then angry that, you know, he really feels the need to talk to me like that. I’m his friend for fucks sake. What does he think I’ll do to her? It’s obvious he doesn’t trust me with her; this figure that he perceives needs his help in controlling this mad, pissed Geordie who’ll somehow harm his…
“OK, OK”, I reply, more shocked and stunned than anything else. Looking back on this I think this was the moment our friendship ended forever.
Meanwhile, the beat goes on and the lights continue to flash an by the time it sinks in what he’s said I’m beginning to get pretty riled by it and an anger (oh no, here it comes again) begins to well up and demand I take action and seek retribution for my hurt male ego or whatever it is.
So I find him chatting some woman up on a dance platform but I don’t care and I don’t know that Nero is watching this from another part of the room.
I grab him by the lapels of his jacket because I’ve seen it on TV and it looked a pretty effective means of catching someone’s attention real fast.
I pull him right up close to me and shout in his face “Don’t. You. Ever. Do. Anything. Like. That. To. Me. AGAIN”, one word sentences. I would have hit him but I don’t want to because I don’t like doing that sort of strong arm stuff. Besides, he’s a good six inches shorter than me and a good two stone lighter so it would all be a little messy. Both physically and during the social aftermath. So, I just push him away but because he’s drunk he stumbles backwards and falls on his arse. Our friendship is never the same again. We’re still friends, don’t get me wrong, we still drink and study and argue the toss and stuff but it is never as close as it used to be. Which would have been fine had it just been mine and Glynn’s relationship affected but it was not to be was it?
It was ten years later that Nero came out with the stuff about ME fucking up THEIR ‘special relationship’. I wasn’t to know that. Was I? At the time? And that Nero would harbour that grudge for ten years and then spit it out when I’m fucked up and off about her ‘special relationship’ with Fuckwit the Catalyst. Sheesh!
How complicated are these social threads that weave through our sorry sordid lives?