A Fictional Morning After

I think I must have been very drunk last night. I couldn’t tell you for sure because I only have a coherent picture of events up to around ten o clock. I remember clearly welcoming Casey, Terry and Dom into my house and also that cock Simon was there. I remember playing far too many drinking games and drinking most of the bottle of vodka and I remember going out.

The next couple of hours are a blur. There was jumping and dancing and throwing up a couple of times. Buying as many drinks as possible at any one time so we didn’t have to go up to the bar too often and still going up to the bar every few minutes. Lot’s and lots of peeing as the alcohol rushes through everyone’s system and also that prick Simon was still there.

Then twelve o clock hit. Someone shouted midnight. I blacked out.

It was nine o’ clock when the black veil lifted and I found myself lying face up right at the edge of my bed, wondering exactly what the hell had happened to me the night before. I also noticed that something was different about my room. Something was there that wasn’t supposed to be there, or at least wasn’t usually there. It took my at least five minutes to realise it was the short blonde girl lying next to me. That was definitely not a regular fixture in my room.

The girl was either younger than me or the same age as me, possibly even older than me. I really couldn’t tell and I wasn’t able to ask her either on account of her being dead. Disturbingly she was wearing my tiger onesie but she had it on the wrong way, with the hood pulled down. I wondered if I had offered her the onesie or if she had wandered into my room and just put it on before crawling into bed. Also she was dead. That was, needless to say, quite disturbing.

Now I’m sure some of you have woken up with dead girl you’ve never seen before lying next to you in your beds and I’m sure many of you are, by now, experts at dealing with just such a situation. Some of you probably knew just what to do the first time it happened, and that is just very impressive. I am not one of those people, and I’m actually ashamed to say that I panicked. I found myself in a situation I wasn’t entirely comfortable with, and I didn’t know what the hell I was supposed to do.

In the end I decided to have breakfast. That may seem a little insensitive but I figured there was no use trying to figure out exactly what had happened on an empty stomach. I wouldn’t go into an exam having had no breakfast and this was, if anything, even more stressful than an exam. I had to find out exactly what had happened the night before and why there was a dead girl in my bed before anyone else found out there was a dead girl in my bed and I went to prison, something that I did not want to do.

It was going to be tricky. The thing is, and I don’t mean to sound horrible, dead people are fucking useless. Mystery girl just lay upstairs doing nothing and she wasn’t going to tell me who she was, how we’d met, or whether or not I had battered her head in, no matter how many times I asked her. No, if I was going to find out exactly what had happened the previous night I was going to have to talk to some more reliable sources, preferably living ones.

Images came back to me as the day progressed. Images that were spurred along by my friends from the night before. Casey told me the last time she had seen me was at quarter to twelve when she had left the club with her boyfriend. Queue images of kissing Casey on the cheek and staggering back to the dance floor with the boys. Terry and Dom told me they had last seen me staggering out of the club at 1.30 with Simon. Assuming I was safe with that arse they left me to it. Queue images of me staggering down the road telling Simon we weren’t so different, him and I, although we are. He’s a cock.

Simon wasn’t answering his phone, forcing me to actually go around and see him. I felt weird about leaving a strange girl alone in my flat but figured it would probably be okay. She was unlikely to steal anything, after all. So I left her, and I cycled all the way over to Simon’s trying to ignore the pounding hangover rattling around in my brain and hoping against hope it was Simon who had killed mystery girl so I could call the police on him and get rid of him for good. Also they’d probably remove the body from my house, which would save me the unpleasant task of dragging her out of my house and burying her.

“What do you want?” Simon asked in a none to endearing tone that made me want to kill him, as well as the girl, if I killed the girl, otherwise he’d make a nice first kill anyway.

“Good morning Simon, sorry to bother you so early in the day, thing is, I kind of need to know what happened last night when we left the club?”

“I dunno man, you were wittering on about how much we were alike and how you were never going to leave my side, then you met this blonde girl and fucked off. I didn’t see you after that.”

“Right. Or… Out of jealously that I had met someone and you hadn’t cause you’re super ugly and no one likes you, did you follow me home, sneak into my room and murder the girl next to me to get me in trouble and you’d better not lie because I will find out.”

Simon just stood there; looking a little stunned, and a little freaked out. I could already tell that he hadn’t followed me home, and he hadn’t killed the girl who had woken up next to me. Worryingly this put me in an odd position where I had sort of inadvertently admitted to having a murdered girl in my house with no other suspects in the case of her murder but me.  Once again I could feel the panic swelling up in me as I wondered whether people grew to enjoy being raped in prison or whether it was just one of those things that is always rubbish and uncomfortable, like prostate exams.

“Simon… I can explain.”

When I returned home there was an ambulance by my house. My parents were standing outside talking to a paramedic and it looked like my mother had been crying. Simon was by my side and somehow that made me feel even more uncomfortable about the whole situation. There were no police cars as of yet but I assumed it would only be a matter of time before they arrived.

It was time to face the music.

I headed down towards my parents and faced up to them. Taking deep breaths and wondering how I was going to explain that it was okay that I was a murderer and they should probably just accept me anyway. However hard it was going to be it was probably going to be easier than explaining to a jury not to put me in prison, so that was something I supposed.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” My mother asked through sobs. I could only shrug.

“Did you think we wouldn’t be able to help?” My father asked and again I shrugged, not wanting to tell him the only help I really would have wanted would be to bury the body so that I never got in trouble for murder.

“Look I don’t remember anything,” I said, flustered, it must have just happened, I don’t even know how it happened. I don’t even know what happened.

“She must have forgotten her inhaler,” piped up the paramedic.

“Her what now?”

“Her inhaler. She goes into a massive asthma attack and there’s nothing she could do, especially if you were spark out.”

“She died of an asthma attack,” I said, stunned. “That is…” I didn’t know how to finish that sentence. Obviously it says a lot about me that I saw a girl not breathing and suddenly assumed that I had killed her, without even thinking about the fact it could have been something else. Clearly the black hole in my mind confused me, leading me to believe only the worst. Still, this could be good news. In actual fact, my mind was so taken over with the fact that I hadn’t actually killed blonde girl, that I completely forgot one very important fact.

Then, “what’s that?” My dad asked.

I looked down to my side and swore under my breath. I had completely forgotten about Simon. Now I could almost see him through the bin bag I held at my side.

This was going to take some explaining.

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One World to Solve all the Worlds Problems

The term shotgun is one that at least everyone who has ever been near a car should know unless you’re Will Mackenzie from the Inbetweeners. It is an almost sacred term among groups of friends and tends to lead to shock and horror when anyone ignores its usage. Of course it does, it’s shotgun.

The term originates, if you’re interested (if you’re not you might want to skip down a couple of paragraphs), in the late 19th century from a position called the shotgun messenger. Shotgun messengers acted as guards on stagecoaches and trains, sitting up next to the driver with a shotgun and shooting at anything that came close to the carriage with dangerous intent. This would include robbers, wolves and groups of small annoying children throwing their ball too near your carriage.

Although no one used to call shotgun in these times (no one liked to argue with the man carrying the shotgun) it was picked up as a term for Western films and TV shows in the early 20th century and therefore riding shotgun entered general usage and was eventually changed to just shotgun, first being used as we know it now probably around the sixties, when people could claim the front seat of a car without fear of being shot down by a man with a real life shotgun and a taste for wolf/child blood.

Nowadays it has outgrown its car meaning. Although shotgun is still used primarily for gaining the front seat in a car it seems to have moved a point where it can be used for absolutely anything. You may even have noticed it is the only thing most teenagers will listen to, and as I said before, if someone ignores a shotgun it can lead to total horror from all those who witness it and sometimes a good old fashion lynching. Shotgunning is serious business.

An example of its practical usage can be found in my student flat. I live with two other guys both my age (19) in a flat with no parents around to do all the stuff we don’t want to do. This leads to many situations where one of us will have to do something none of us want to do, such as call our landlord, or pay a bill, or run back and get the memory stick type thing we put our electricity on. All these situations could of course lead to many arguments, followed by horrific fights leading to us also need to acquire a carpet cleaner and dispose of removed limbs.

If not for shotgun. Shotgun means that whenever a task comes up that none of us want to do we will all call shotgun not, or notgun and whoever calls it last will do the task, no complaints. This one little word completely removes the arguments and violence people our age can be so good at. It is the one system that everyone our age can agree on. This word can make us do the things our parents have been trying to get us to do for years, with absolutely no complaint whatsoever. That is the magic of this one little word.

And why should it stop here? I think usage for cars and among teenagers who need to decide on whose going to do a rubbish task is still a rather narrow usage for it. Something has got everyone under the age of 25 to accept this word and as we get older I don’t see any reason why we can’t keep hold of this beautiful decision making word. It can be bought into the work place (several people fighting for the same project: Shotgun!), the household (no one feel like cooking dinner tonight? Shotgun!) And of course politics (lots of people want to be Prime Minister? Okay no that’s too far but hey you could do it for party leader.)

But why stop there? Go further. International conflict could be wiped out with this one little word. I’m not saying Hitler should have been able to shotgun Poland because that would just lead to chaos, but what about places that are under contention. For example, Jerusalem, which has been part of the Palestine-Israeli conflict for almost 75 years as it is a holy city for Judaism and Islam, as well as Christianity, and to put into context how bad they are at settling it ownership, the city has been destroyed twice, besieged 23 times, attacked 52 times, and captured and recaptured 44 times. It is one place whose ownership does not look like it will be settled soon.

But seriously, shotgun. Get every person in the world to go for this one little word and everything will be so much easier. Pass some international laws that mean everyone has to follow it and then set up something to make it fair. Pick a point in central Jerusalem then, each faith gets to pick one person to run towards that place from different locations. Whoever touches it first and shouts shotgun claims Jerusalem for their faith. This would put an end to the conflict, and it would be a great thing to put on TV.

I’m not saying this would be easy, and I’m not saying we should make it a thing straight away, but within the next five years… Put some solid shotgun rules down that can’t be broken and then in every situation I think it could be used to greatly reduce conflict, on a small or world wide scale. Of course there will be people who step out of line. I’m thinking the Hitler’s of the world wont go for it, but that’s what you are if you don’t think this is a good idea, a Hitler. This is fair democracy at its greatest, and if you don’t like it, you’re a fascist.

You’re welcome.

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Christmas (is it worth it?)

Christmas day is pretty great, I’m sure most people would agree. There are presents and good food and usually a truly underserving Christmas number one from the X-factor team. But is it worth it? Is this one-day truly worth the weeks of build up, the weeks of horrifying stress that it always brings?

I work at Asda and in the week leading up to Christmas I can’t say I’ve seen a lot of Christmas cheer. After a customer smashed a bottle in the wine aisle on the 22nd, a colleague of mine was standing by the mess, trying to make sure no customer walked into it. When telling a customer to be careful as he trod close to it, he received the reply, “Yeah thanks mate I’m not a retard,” before walking off and slipping in the spilt wine and falling on his arse (Only joking, that just would have been the kind of karmic retribution he deserved.)

While this isn’t a new occurrence – easily wound up customers are a treat all year round for colleagues, as I’m sure the opposite is true for customers – it is certainly more prevalent at Christmas. I have often feared for my life after telling a customer we have run out of mulled wine or Bucks Fizz and have also had a customer complaining that our cages of stock are always in the way before claiming that we needed to bring out more stock. It’s one or the other, pick a complaint and stick to it.

Obviously this is in the frame of Asda but its clearly true everywhere. The streets are full of people panicking about what to buy their loved ones and God forbid you reach the last Jack Daniels at the same time as someone else. That’s a situation that leads to one family being short a parent for Christmas and one family being short one or more sober parents for Christmas.

There also seems to be a lot of trust issues at Christmas. I have had a customer ask me for an item and despite telling him that we definitely did not have any left in the warehouse, he insisted that I went and checked. Would I lie? At Christmas of all times too! Probably, but he doesn’t know that or me and assumptions of people you don’t know should always be positive unless you’re a miserable bastard or meet them beating their wife to death

Even in the home things are stressful up to and including Christmas day. I was sitting in the living room as my parents Christmas shop arrived and I heard the stress levels rocket as they realised there wasn’t enough room in the fridge or freezer which led to the terrifying realisation that they might have to throw away a couple of loafs of bread. I’m pretty sure that they would have considered buying a new fridge freezer before they threw anything else away.

This also highlights another point about Christmas shopping. People seem to forget that it’s Christmas Day, not Christmas week, or Christmas Holocaust. Stores are closed for one day. Yet people will flood into the stores as if everywhere is going out of business and they may never be able to find food again. It’s not even just Christmas based items that sell quickly. At Asda everything sells in much higher quantities in the week leading up to Christmas than in any other week; from crisps, through clothes, all the way to nappies. Are babies crapping more at Christmas? (Actually I suppose that makes sense, all that food has got to go somewhere I suppose.)

Then there’s the cost. My store takes 1.5 million pounds on a normal week and 2.5 at Christmas week. You can’t honestly say you’re making this back on presents, especially considering that you’ve had to buy your own. There’s really no way you’re coming out of Christmas with more money than you started with, and that’s not to mention the amount of time wasted looking for presents and food and fighting that bitch who tried to take the last Jack Daniel’s. Plus the stress has probably taken a good few years off your life, and remember, you’ve got to do it all again next year, and the year after that. You’re probably losing two years off your life for every one lived and you’re not even recouping anything on the day.

In reality, yes you get to spend time with your family and your loved ones and see their faces light up when they get that pair of socks you’re sure they really wanted, but the cost is really far to high. There are only really three groups of people who gain anything from Christmas; small children who still believe in Santa, Christians who get to rock out Church and celebrate the day Christ wasn’t actually born (But don’t worry it would be way too difficult to change the day at this late stage), and of course the people who have really stolen Christmas from the Christians, the people who own the stores that make money off you ordinary folks stress and panic, and they would love to keep it that way.

If it were up to me and if anyone important read any of the letter I sent to them. Christmas would be scrapped, and instead every family could just pick their own day to spend with each other every year where you could exchange a few presents and have a good meal without going overboard and without handing hundreds of pounds over to those bastards who run Asda and Harrods etc. plus you wouldn’t have to fight your way around supermarkets and town centres preparing for that nuclear holocaust you’re sure is going to happen one of these Christmases.

Also there would be no Christmas songs.

Just an idea.

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Heartbreaker – Chapter Three (Pt. Two)

The hardest part of apologising to Sandy would be filming it without her noticing and I took a considerable amount of time working out how it could be achieved. In the end, mastermind that I am, I came up with the solution. In fact the idea killed two birds with one stone as it involved the suit I had been dying to wear I had bought on a whim a couple of weeks ago. It was a beautiful dark grey creature with a crisp white shirt and a slim black tie, topped off with some beautiful shoes. Putting it on I almost forget about my mission, I was happy just to walk up and down staring at myself in the mirror in my beautiful suit.

Eventually I was forced to continue with my mission. I cut a small hole in the breast pocket of my suit and covered it with some netting so it was less obvious. Then I slid my phone into the pocket and stuck it down with tape so the camera was facing into the hole. Now, all I had to do when the time was right was press the button and I would be able to record everything that happened in the room without anyone ever knowing. I don’t like to blow my own trumpet but this was actually a genius idea. Patent pending.

I put on my suit and head off to Sandy’s flat. I was nervous; I had taken on this little mission without really thinking about it. Sure I had called up everyone I knew to find out where all of my ex-girlfriends were living, then I had planned the route I would take but I hadn’t really thought of the apologising bit. It sounded easy, but this had to be heartfelt and warm if anyone was ever going to forgive me. I had humiliated Sandy just the day before and I had hurt all the other girls in various different ways. What if James was right, what if they wouldn’t accept my apology. Then I really would be screwed. I wondered if Jess would still take me back if I came back having failed. I seriously doubted it. I needed to make this work.

I don’t like to brag but I’ve always been good at reading the signals women send out, so when Alice opened the door and then immediately slammed the door in my face, I knew that she probably wasn’t best pleased to see me. Still, if at first you don’t succeed … so I knocked again, and I kept knocking until Alice finally came to the door, a look that can only be described as anger on her face. I wasn’t sure why, it wasn’t like I’d ever hurt her, girls just take things too personally.

“What do you want?” She snapped in a rather un-host like tone.

“I would like to see Sandy if that’s at all possible please Alice.” I assumed my polite, calm voice, would in turn calm her down and she might start being nicer to me. Unfortunately this was not to be and instead she decided to keep up her angry front. Well, if I had to be the bigger man, I decided that was a burden I would just have to bear.

“Look… You. Go away. She doesn’t want to see you. You really hurt her and there is no way she is ever going to forgive you, just leave her alone.”

“I can’t do that. I feel terrible about what I said, I handled it all wrong and I’ve been up all night thinking about it. I just want to have a quick chat with her, try and apologise properly, to her, because I want to, not for me. Please. You know I’m just going to keep knocking if you don’t let me in to talk to her.” That seemed to do it, she obviously wasn’t a fan of knocking because she stepped back and I was allowed to walk in.
I had lived in a couple of student flats while I was in university and neither of them had been as nice as this. We walked past a living room that was the size of my entire flat, a kitchen that had enough room for a fridge, a freezer, a microwave and with space left to stand and sit. The walls were all nicely painted and there were no holes in the ceiling. I considered asking her how she had found such a magnificent place on a student budget but didn’t think she would receive such a question too well at that point in time. Instead I just allowed her to lead me in silence through to Sandy’s room. I wasn’t allowed in straight away and Alice stood in front of it, still glaring at me, ready to part some warning words on me before I was able to pass through the door.

“The moment you say anything to upset her, I’m going to come in there and rip both your ears off, okay?”

“That seems a bit extreme.”

“Well then don’t upset her, and we won’t have a problem, okay?”

“You know you have some anger issues and I really think it might be beneficial for you to go and see someone, you know just work through them. Why are you looking at me like that? I promise I won’t upset her okay. No ears if I do. I get it.”

She nodded and went into the room, holding out her hand so that I couldn’t go in. I’d never had an introduction before; I felt my ego swell despite the fact that I knew I wasn’t being talked up. Still, there was no time to dwell on it; I forced myself to run over in my head what I was going to say. This was my second heartfelt apology of the day, it was all very draining, and if this went well, I’d have a lot more coming up in the near future. I hoped that this went well.

After a couple of minutes I was allowed into the room. I felt like I was entering a secret temple by this point. Once I entered I realised that if there was a secret cult of Justin Bieber worshipers, which, let’s face it, there probably is, then I was in its headquarters. The room was covered in Justin posters, Justin bobble heads, Justin CD’s. It was mad. I guess I had underestimated how obsessive some people get about things, of course, looking back on it, Sandy was the sort of person who would have got obsessive about all the new crazes, it was just the kind of person that she was, and, despite all of the crazy Bieber stuff, the first thing that I noticed was her double bed and all the floor space. I would have taken all the Justin crap if it meant I could have a room like this.

Sandy herself was sitting on the end of her bed when I entered, her legs folded up to her chest and she looked like she had been crying. I felt quite awkward. I didn’t really like crying girls, they scared me and I didn’t know how to act around them, but here I was, dealing with my second crying girl in two days. I just sat quietly on the chair and didn’t say anything for a couple of minutes, wondering if she would like to start or if I was expected to. This whole apology thing was quite difficult, it was new to me and I really didn’t know the rules.

“Sandy, I’ve come to apologise,” I said after the silence became too much for me and it became obvious that she wasn’t going to talk. “I realise that I handled the situation yesterday very badly and you may have come away feeling a little bit like you were attacked. This was not my intention at all, I just, I didn’t think, that’s my problem you see I talk without thinking and other people end up getting hurt. But that wasn’t my intention at all. That is why I’m here, to apologise so that you can feel better I suppose.” I realised I was talking in a very unusual way and I was pretty sure I had never said intention twice in the same week before, let alone the same speech.

“A little bit attacked?” She said between highly unattractive sobs, “you humiliated me. You made me think that you liked me. You invited me around to your place and then you told me that you had never really liked me and actually you’d been kissing another girl just seconds before I’d arrived. Then you told me you’d be using me.”

“Yes. I know, that is definitely a factual account of what has happened over the last couple of days and I understand how you’ve come off feeling quite bad as a result of it, and that is why I’m sorry. I’m a terrible terrible person and I feel awful.”

“You’re right. You are a terrible person. I should have trusted my instincts. You can always tell by the name. But I let you dupe me into thinking that it was different with you.”

“Seriously what is wrong with my name? Name’s and personalities have nothing to do with each other you know. Although I guess by the looks of it you do allow people to walk over you which is a lot like a beach which is sandy so I guess I can see how you came to your whole name conclusion thing but my name is actually normal and did I mention that I’m really sorry?” Once again I was kicking myself, if I could just hold off from making sarcastic jokes for a few seconds of my life things would probably start to go a lot better for me. I certainly knew there was a chance I had just blown it with Sandy by being me.

Sandy didn’t reply straight away and seemed to be regressing more into herself. I suddenly pictured what would happen if she started to cry, the horrible pain of my ears being ripped off. I glanced around cautiously at the door to make sure that Alice wasn’t about to burst in. Hopefully she wasn’t listening in outside the door but I could almost definitely guarantee that she was. If she had heard my comparison between Sandy and beaches then I could potentially be in a lot of trouble.

“Do you actually know how much what you said yesterday hurt me?” She asked, taking me by surprise, “I mean has it ever happened to you? You come around here all ready to apologise but do you even really know what affect you had on me. Do you know what effect your actions ever have on anyone? Pardon me for saying but you seem like the kind of guy with the sarcastic tongue who does what he wants, says what he thinks is funny and doesn’t think about how much he’s hurt someone until later, and even then he thinks a quick sorry will make everything okay again. Do you ever actually think about it though?”

“What? I don’t know. I guess…” The question threw me. She had pretty much nailed my personality in one. Why was I here apologising? Because I thought it would help me get with Jessica, why did I ever apologise. I didn’t really, unless I was forced to. And I never really thought about what effect my actions had on other people, unless it affected something that I wanted. I wasn’t really here apologising for the right reasons and Sandy knew that. She also knew that I had no idea how she was feeling. And how could I? I’d never allowed myself to feel like that. I leant back slightly, trying not to seem too annoyed. Sandy was making me get pensive and think inwardly, I hated doing that.

“I didn’t think so,” she said and her smug look made my self-reflection period end. I couldn’t allow myself to get bogged down by emotions now, I was going to be a great, heartfelt, all on the line boyfriend to Jessica, but I wouldn’t get that unless I got some forgiveness. If I couldn’t even get Sandy to forgive me then I had no hope with anyone else, and actually, maybe the best way to get forgiveness from Sandy was to let myself feel. Or at least pretend I was.

“You are right Sandy,” I said, “I have no idea how you are feeling, I’m here more for myself than I am for you and you’re right again, usually I don’t think about my actions and I feel like a simple sorry wave of the wand will make everything okay again, but it really doesn’t does it. You shouldn’t forgive me until I really know what I’m apologising for. So please, tell me how you felt, what made it so bad. Tell me so I can truly apologise.”

So she did. I won’t repeat everything here because it was quite long winded and I didn’t listen to all of it, but the long and the short of it was that she had been hurt before, dumped by someone who had only been with her for lack of someone else and had moved on the moment another girl had shown any interest. She hadn’t wanted to date, she just wanted to be alone and it had taken a lot for Alice to persuade her to come on a date with me, just like it had taken a lot for James to get me to come on the date. And when she had got there, she had actually allowed herself to like me, just a little bit, and when I had invited her round a couple of days later she had really thought there was a chance. So what I said, it had really hurt her. That was actually something that I could understand.

She told me all that, and more, and for the most past, I listened, and when she was done I gave her a real, heartfelt apology, which she accepted. I got it on tape and really that was the important thing but I left that room feeling slightly less sure of myself than when I had gone in. Still, I had what I needed and it was time for a road trip. I needed to forget about what Sandy had said and how for a second she had made me think about myself and how my actions were affecting other people. I needed to enjoy the road trip. I needed to think about what was going to happen and how good it would be when Jessica finally agreed to be my girlfriend. It was what I had always wanted and no one was going to ruin that for me.

So I was on the way. Mission began. Next stop. Portsmouth.

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Heartbreaker – Chapter Three (Pt. One)

“You are such a screw up,” James claimed in response to my heart-wrenching tale of lost love and pain. I had spent the whole night sitting up thinking about it, a horrible feeling of emptiness in the pit of my stomach, and these were the comforting words my best friend gave me. I was starting to think that I really wasn’t very good at picking friends. I didn’t want to be sitting in his room, pouring my heart out while he played Call of Duty insisting that he was listening, I wanted to be a flat over, trying to make things right with Jessica, but that wasn’t working out so great.

I had spent all night thinking about what I was going to say. How I was going to profess my love for her and tell her the only reason I had even gone for someone else was because I believed that she was too good for me and I would never have a chance. How I had genuinely wanted to take care of her and the kiss had just thrown me, because it was everything I had ever wanted, and I wished the moment that it happened that I didn’t have a previous engagement. It was all so perfect in my head, the whole speech, she was going to hear me out and take me back and it would be easy. Why is nothing ever easy?

I wasn’t even given a chance to screw up the speech. When I woke up, after about 45 minutes of sleep, Ross was back. Don’t worry (if you were) they weren’t getting back together. There was much more hate and anger than love and regret in the air. He was just picking up his stuff and they were having their final argument. I got the distinct impression that there would be no break up sex, although that could have just been wishful thinking on my part. Anyway, there was no way I could confront Jessica while that prat was around, so I was forced to lie low in my flat until he receded into her room to get the rest of his stuff. Then I headed down to see James.

James’ immediate concern was, and this not out of character, for himself. He was worried that me hurting and humiliating Sandy would be bad for him. He would look like an arsehole by association and Alice wouldn’t want to have the sex with him anymore. Not surprisingly this was something I actually couldn’t care less about. My life was falling apart and all he could talk about was himself. It was disgusting. I needed some sort of advice on how I could get around to Jessica and I wasn’t going to let him use his whole diversion thing.

“Maybe you could buy her flowers?”

“Oh what, and a box of chocolates? Yeah I’ll just head on down to the cliché shop shall I. Be serious James, this is serious.”

“You know you’re a very sarcastic person.”

“I have been told, unfortunately that little nugget of information is very rarely any help. Again, I must stress how important this is. I have the chance for true happiness if I can just fix things. I just need to make her see.”

“After what you said? I really don’t think she’s ever going to take you back man. I mean, Alice said she’s been hurt before.”

It took me a second to realise that there had been a misunderstanding before I said, “not Sandy you idiot. Jessica, how can I make things right with Jessica?”

“Oh Jessica. Well just go back, give her the speech you were going to give her this morning, just, when Ross isn’t around.”

“And what if she doesn’t accept it?”

“Accept that you screwed up, and move on.”

I pretended to believe he was right because I knew I wasn’t going to get any more useful information out of James at that time, but I knew very well that there was no way I was going to let this lie. If Jessica didn’t fall into my arms after my heartfelt speech then I would do absolutely anything I could to win her over another way. I wouldn’t give up either, I would continue to pursue her until she forgave me or got a restraining order. Only after those two scenarios would I stop trying to show her just how much I loved her.

Ross had gone by the time I got back which I was thankful for, I really wasn’t interested in any parting words with him, especially as I was likely to rub in his face the news of the previous nights kiss. As satisfying as that would be for me it would likely earn me a punch in the face and make my uphill struggle to get Jessica to forgive me even more uphill, and I didn’t do well with any kind of hills, metaphorical or literal. No, Ross being gone meant I could get straight to the heartfelt stuff, straight to the winning Jessica back.

Cleverly I didn’t say anything as I knocked on Jessica’s door, for fear that she would not answer if she knew it was me. She opened it and I was already started before she could close it again, I dived straight into my speech and considering I hadn’t even written it down I think it went pretty well, I almost welled up at times. I knew for sure that if it had been the other way around then I would have taken me back. I would have grabbed me right then and pulled me into my room and had my way with me. Man it would be easier if I was in love with me, I’m nowhere near as difficult as girls.

Finally I finished, then it was Jessica’s turn: “Look,” she started, a good start, I thought, “I’m not angry with what happened, I can’t be really. I like you, okay? I wouldn’t have kissed you otherwise. I actually thought that there was a chance that I might really like you, and you might really like me. Something could have happened. Then again, I thought all the same things with Ross and look what’s happened there. I invested a lot into that relationship and I’m not really willing to do the same again if it’s just going to end up in me getting hurt.

“You’re a heartbreaker, Sandy arriving last night, it just reminded me of that fact. You admitted it yourself and just because I didn’t see you for seven years doesn’t mean I didn’t hear about you. You didn’t just stop at breaking Leanne’s arm did you? There was what, four more? And now you can add Sandy to that list. That’s six girls you’ve really hurt in one way or another and I’m sorry, I’m just not interested in being added to that list.”

“No!” I shouted unnecessarily loudly, “you don’t understand. The reason I’m like that, it’s because you rejected me. You turned me down and I decided then and there that I was never going to be hurt again, I really liked all the girls I’ve gone out with, and I didn’t mean to hurt any of them, it just… it just happened that way. But it wouldn’t be like that with you. You’re the girl Jessica. The Girl! Do you know what I’m saying?”

“You’re saying it’s my fault these girls walked away with broken hearts and or arms? Maybe I should apologise to them.” She glared at me and I had to fight myself to think of something rational to say. She was making things incredibly difficult for me.

“No, it’s not your fault,” I said, choosing my words carefully, this wasn’t part of the plan. “It’s just … you’re the one.”

“You can’t guarantee that. You’re living with a dream and you don’t really know what it would be like if we got together. I like you, sure, but all I’ve got is this image of you going through life, breaking hearts because you’re too afraid to get close to anyone, and what have you got of me, some fantasy that you cooked up when you were five?”

“And what I know now, listen I’m different to what you think, how can I show you that?”

“Have you ever even apologised?”

“What’s that?” I kicked myself inside, definitely not the right time to be making jokes, I backtracked, “I mean, yeah I suppose, well I don’t know, most of them didn’t give me the chance. Is that what you need? I can do that, if I apologise to Leanne, Mary, Claire, Louise and Daisy, will you give me a chance. I can make amends, I can prove to you that I’m not like that.”

“Yeah, right. You go and get video messages of you apologising to all those girls, and Sandy, and them accepting, and then I’ll forgive you. Is that really what you’re going to do? Now you’re just being silly. We both just need to move on. I’m your boss, and I can be your friend too given time, but I can’t be your girlfriend, not now. I just can’t risk it, I’m sorry.”

And with that, she closed the door, closed it on my hopes and dreams. Almost. Now I knew that I had a chance. Now I knew that all I had to do was drive around to the houses of six girls that I had been out with, or almost been out with, video record myself apologising to them and them accepting, and I could make things right with Jessica. What more proof could she need that I was deadly serious about her? This was happening. After all, how hard could it be?

“Really hard!” James seemed to think, “are you mental? I mean I can’t speak for everyone but just speaking to Sandy I know that she is nowhere near ready to forgive you anytime soon. And most of those other girls won’t even remember you. Secondly, once you say you need to video tape the apology, they’re going to know that you don’t really mean it. Look mate, you really haven’t thought this through. Wouldn’t moving on just be easier?”

“I have thought this through, I’ve been thinking about it all day. Listen. I start with Sandy, because she’s here and it’s all fresh, she’ll appreciate a quick apology. Once I’ve sealed her, I go across to Portsmouth where Leanne is now living. Then I go up back to my hometown where we meet up with Mary Morris. Then further up to Manchester where crazy Claire now resides. Then, across to Bristol where Lucy is for some reason studying at university and then to Wales city where Daisy has gone. Finally back here where I show all the tapes to Jessica, she forgives me and we get married.” It all sounded so perfect in my head but James was still giving me a sceptical look and I had to admit, hearing myself say it out loud it didn’t sound like the most full proof plan, but I was not to be deterred.

“As for your second problem, they wont know that I am filming them. I am going to have a camera phone on at all times but they won’t even realise. That way I can come across as genuine and caring, they will accept my apologies then, aforementioned marriage. All I need is for you to come with me so that someone can drive me around.”

“Well that’s very impressive,” James said, not looking at all impressed, “except that I’m not coming on some stupid ex-booty hunt with you. It’s stupid. I don’t want to be your wheelman, I’ve got a job remember. So just forget it and give up, okay? Move on forget Jessica, I really don’t know how many signs you need before you’ll her the message that it’s never going to happen.”

“Think about James, it will be like our very own road trip. Like in Road Trip, or Sex Drive, but set in England, and we’ll be allowed to drink. You love those films. Come on man, what is more looked upon with coolness than the age-old road trip. We come back with all our mental stories then we will be the coolest people in the entire country, think of all the bar stories we can tell. I am telling you, there is no way that this cannot work out amazingly for both of us.”

“Except that I don’t think you can achieve your crazy goal. Also, Jessica is going to know you don’t mean your apologies and you’re still just a bastard. Finally, I don’t approve, what you’re doing is wrong. You shouldn’t apologise unless you actually mean it.”

“I understand your scepticism, and I think I have a solution. How about, I go and get the forgiveness from Sandy, fully recorded and ready to go. If I can prove that I can get that, then you put enough faith in me to come on this trip. Also, I just need you to put aside your morals for now and come for me. Please. I need you on this one. I can’t do it alone.”

“Fine. Just to get you off my back. I will come with you if you can prove alone that you can get Sandy to forgive you, okay?”

“Yes, okay. Let’s do this.”

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