DIRRRTY

A few days later we went away for a dirty weekend on another island; Koh Tao. On the ferry across I sensed something had changed as Nat eyed up tattooed, skanky indie boys; I forget that she’s only 22 and into different things I am. Sometimes she’s so mature that its like I’m the 22 year old and she’s the 34 year old. She’s the most woman-like woman I’ve been with, I think its her near perfect shape. And those hips! All my ex-girlfriends have been short and blonde and mere girls in comparison. The first night together we went out and got drunk, having a great time talking about what we meant to each other. I guess being a writer I need to label everything - even electro-speed-funk-garage, I don‘t understand what things are unless they have a name. Seems we both had different ideas on what we were labelled - maybe it’s time to stop thinking like that and be more Taoist in my approach.

We are together until we’re not together any more.

Which is rapidly approaching.

I felt I was kinda falling for her which is not what I’m used to. Yes I fall for girls, I fall easily, but its more often the case that I hear the words “Will, I really like you…. No, Will, I really like you” but now the shoe was on the other foot. Where’s Rob with The Streets quotes when you need him? Why is it always the girls you really like that don't like you and vice versa? Just the way of the world I guess.

To cut a long story short the last White Russians I will ever drink raised their ugly head, all five doubles of them as Nat spoke to another man for almost a very long time as I jockeyed for her attention. Nothing pisses me off more than someone purposefully using your emotions against you. Its cheap and ugly. But not as cheap as when she ran down the road to “help” a bronzed, topless, blond diver push start his bike. Waiting ten minutes with the engine revving I had had enough and set off after her. Screeching to a halt inches from his bike, with his greasy paws all over her I told him and his friend to fuck off and not having the time to explain the idiosyncrasities of our relationship ordered my girlfriend onto my bike.

“I’m not your girlfriend” came her response.

I guess there was that label I was talking about…

I raced us home and how we made it back alive I will never know. She quite rightly left me outside when I muttered something about her only being twenty-two, so what would she know. The dirty weekend was more of a nasty weekend and the next two days increasingly awkward. We had both seen a side of each other that we never should have and our relationship would never be the same again. She derived pleasure from intentionally winding me up and I over-reacted in a manner I was ashamed of.

(Natalie’s version of events = Look. Let’s get some objectivity here. First of all, Will went into A MOOD as soon as we walked into the bar - I was the only girl in there bar the bar girls (who were heffers anyway) Then some guy made a shitty comment and Will went over for words. He KNOWS I hate confrontation and therefore should have left it be. So instantly we were both on edge. Will started talking to two guys, turning his back on me. He later explained that, for a boy, it’s important to become ‘one of them’, and therefore his exclusion of me was actually his attempt at inclusion and acceptance. God. Either way, I felt left out. So I started talking to a bloke on the other side of Will. He was about 40 and in no way hot. I just didn’t want to be stood on my own. Jeez. So I thought things were okay, Will had his friend and I had mine. But then I started getting poked, and my clothes started getting pulled. I looked around me for a four year old child. But it was just Will. So that wound me up.

Later, as we were leaving, some Irish guy asked us for a hand with his motorbike, as it wouldn’t work without a push. I figured Will would give him a hand, but he didn’t, so I volunteered. I had no idea this was going to piss Will off. I was drunk and overly friendly. So I tried to push but I’m a tad pathetic, so consequently I sat on the bike while he pushed. It was a manual which I’ve never rode before so he had to explain how to use it. He was unfortunately leaning over me pushing buttons (not mine) when Will drove up in a cloud of dust and anger. He ordered the Irish bloke to fuck off, and demanded ‘his girlfriend’ get on the bike. I instantly pulled him up on this comment, but climbed onto the bike anyway. We then somehow got home, Will nearly killing several pedestrians. His ‘only 22’ comment, although probably a fair point in a different context, did not go down well and I went to bed. THE END. In his defence, I did wake up (sneezing) the next morning surrounded by flowers.

P.s. I am Adam Ant.