I need friends. Anyone got any friends for sale? I like dinner and drinking, I’m not much of a dancer but I can make you laugh. I’m not mental, I don’t get annoyed if people cancel dates, but I do get annoyed if people try and share food. I don’t smoke and I don’t smell. I’m a catch, basically. So just sign on the doted line.
I’m not saying I don’t have friends, I do. My friends are brilliant. There’s Cesca, she’s great. I’m going to be her maid of honour next summer. I must be doing something right if someone wants me to be their maid of honour. There’s Laurence, he’s hilarious. We like to pretend we’re Jack Bauer when we’re together. Many a morning after the night before I’ve woken up covered in scratches from all the brambles I’ve invincibly roly poly’ed through while talking to Laurence in an invisible walkie talkie.
There’s plenty more, who I love with all my heart and I could list them all and why I love them. Nicola for her wry sense of humour, Amy for her giggle, Mike for his thoughtfulness. But I’m not here to list the friends I do have. I’m here to talk about the ones I don’t.
My friends live as far away as South Africa and Australia. Hell, even London seems like too far away when it’s a Tuesday night and I just want to go to the pub and talk about X factor.
I don’t know how it happened. One minute, I was living with three wonderful friends and my filofax was bulging with social engagements. The next minute, I’m living in the middle of nowhere, working for myself in a job which has me face the wall in my spare room from 7.30am to 6pm every day. I only see two faces a day – my business partner Nicola and my boyfriend, Gareth. They both have very nice faces, but I want more.
Sometimes I see the face of the man who runs my local post office. I buy stamps from him. He’s a bit annoying. He makes me give him a high five and I don’t want to give him a high five.
I guess you could say I am lonely. For one reason or another, all my friends have left this city, and I’ve forgotten how to make new ones.
So I’ve joined a friendship making website. So far, it’s not going well. I scoured through all the members and messaged the ones I liked the look of. Preparing my best banter, I gave them all a paragraph to show them how funny I am. And I chose a good picture so people know I’m not a troll.
I logged off feeling really good about myself, put my feet up and waited for all my new friends to message me back.
Only, no one has.
The only person to have messaged me back so far is Neill. He looks about 40 and I don’t want to be his friend because he uses the website too much. He keeps trying to rally everyone together to watch the new Tim Burton movie, as a gang. Then maybe a pint, afterwards.
I’m desperate, but I’m not that desperate. He can keep his Tim Burton movies. I’d rather face the wall in my spare room and feel sorry for myself than be friends with someone who spells it ‘Neill’.
"The composition of my soul is made, too great for servile, avaricious trade.
When raving in the lunacy of ink, I catch my pen and publish what I think."
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