Having attempted to draw the young woman off track with a brilliant non sequitur, and failing, the question remained: Why had I gone through life without a least one prolonged interlude with the fairer sex?
“Alright, in the beginning, after school but before now I mean, from the ages of, say, eighteen to twenty-four, for whatever reason, and as much as they appeared to love being my friend, simply, they didn’t want a bar of me in the intimate or, romantic sense.”
“What – why not?”
“Gosh, well, you’d have to ask them, Jenny.”
“Nah, seriously, you’re a good looking guy, there’s no reason I can see why anyone wouldn’t want to go out with you.”
“I appreciate that but like I said, you can’t base everything on outward appearances.”
“Yeah but that’s exactly what you do do for a first date..?”
“Yes, that’s a good point,” I conceded “I guess then, I dunno, must be that everyone around where I live already know me thus knows of my shit, and those I meet by chance, for whatever reason, don’t seem willing to give me a chance.”
“So, what,” she said with a smirk “are you an absolute shithead – is that why no one likes you?”
“I don’t think so,” I said reciprocating the half-grin, “I think it’s more that people are put off by what I am.”
“So what are you – a fucking weirdo?” the smirk grew to a full size grin.
“Perhaps – as I mentioned before, I am the result of some pretty severe brain trauma.”
“Oh-h,” a look of relief came over her face, “that’s right … Is that all though – like, I thought it was gonna something big like a lopsided nut-sack or something.”
“Shit … Is that classed as big?”
“I dunno, how big are they?”
“Oh, you’re brilliant,” I said, releasing an overdue burst of laughter, “although in fairness, the injury was reasonably big.”
“Like, how big?”
“Like, nine days in a coma big, fourteen in ICU big, few months in hospital big…”
“So pretty big then?”
“Yeah, as I mentioned, it messed up my nervous system pretty bad.”
“But apart from that you’re alright..?”
“Apart from spasmodic limbs that never act quite the same for two days running, shit man, I’m fucking fantastic.”
“So why don’t girls like you?”
“You’re one of them, you tell me.”
“I dunno, I mean, you are pretty intense, like, you’re direct, you know, you’re…”
“I don’t fuck around and I say what I mean?”
“Yeah, that … I guess that could be intimidating.”
“Are you intimidated by me?”
“No, but I haven’t known you that long – I’m still withholding judgement.”
“Good point – you know, we’re into some pretty deep shit for two people who only recently met each other.”
“True dat.”
“Don’t say that.”
“What – why not?”
“Because it’s daft.”
“What, you mean like still using the word ‘daft’?”
Article by Tim Walker
Edited by Chance Mei Ting
Photography by Daft Punk