Talk to This Guy, He Seems Alright

Right?

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11 January 2019, 10:00am

(Photo via Jamie Clifton)

This guy looks alright: he’s got slicked back hair like rich people do and he’s getting an absolutely fucking mega round in, so when he points and does the quizzical eyebrow at you – “What can I get you?” – you don’t even feel bad about ordering the most expensive drink on the taps because you know he won’t feel it and you know that if you want to buy Hoegaarden for yourself you’re going to have to discretely check the NatWest app with your phone folded up at an acute angle to your chest so no one sees your bank balance and it’s not worth the hassle so—

He’s sound, you know. Is he sound? You’re not sure you can tell what sound is anymore. He’s married to your mate’s sister, that’s why he’s here. He’s wearing a gilet. I think one of these kids is his. He’s got you cornered. “Listen,” he says, conspiratorially, leaning in, “tell me – what do you make?” You tell him and he laughs. “Listen, I made that when I was your age. You’re what, 20? 21?” You sadly admit to him that you’re 25 years old. “Oh, yah: same. What uni did you go to?” No, sorry, hold on: this guy was just talking about his mortgage, his marriage, his three-year-old, his Porsche. “Yah.” You thought he was, like, 40 years old. “No, 25. Twenty-six in Feb.” He’s… younger than you? Didn’t he talk about retiring in ten years? It’s a panic attack, you’re having a panic attack. You’re having a— Oh, ohjesus— Ohjesusfucking— Ohjesusfuckingchr—

go 2 bathroom