This Modern Love – Part One

The best house parties were always thrown by at Pete’s. He wasn’t a great party planner by any means, but he did always get a lot of booze in. And would then disappear. Everyone at the party would know Pete, but no one would be able to say where he was. This may have been due to their state of sobriety. In accordance with the availability and cost, alcohol was being drunk by all and all were drunk. To be seen to be empty handed or, worse, relatively sober was to be sent to the kitchen on strict orders to not return until carrying a large glass of something that would strip paint and ‘one for me while you’re at it.’ As the party had started in earnest a couple of hours ago the large modern house had begun to reek of booze, desperation and despair.

Greg didn’t want to admit it, but was feeling the second and was closing fast on the third. Since breaking up with his long-term girlfriend the previous year he had been in a romantic rut. It wasn’t the lack of sex that was particularly worrying him but the complete lack of getting anywhere near a lack of sex. Greg wasn’t the best looking guy, standing only 5″10 in his thickest shoes and weighing in at ‘could use fattening up the poor lad’ and he had character rather than handsomeness in a thin face which gave him a perpetually miserable look. He had tried to grow out his dark brown curly hair and beard to give him a rugged look, but he had just ended up looking like a relatively well-treated prisoner-of-war. He didn’t tend to inspire the kind of lust in women that made them throw themselves at him.

Luckily Greg’s best features weren’t his features. He had a modest intelligence that was combined with being witty at times, characteristics that were only accentuated when the company he was keeping was so sloshed wine and vodka was practically seeping out of their ears. Greg was himself slightly handicapped by being pickled as a herring but he was still managing to come across well to the group he had ingratiated himself with which, aside from him, consisted of two recently single ladies who were complaining about their bad luck with boyfriends.

Greg considered his love life in terms that would have made sense to Archaeologists. It  had began with the Linda months, followed by the time of Mary which led unto the reign of Amanda. The breaking, reformation and final cataclysmic splitting with Amanda had led to  the subsequent Fallow Years until the long Catherine era. He was considering the current time to be The Great Depression. Even the Fallow Years had seemed bountiful by contrast. He explained this to the girls, one of who quickly recognised the narcissistic properties of considering yourself in these terms and drifted away to find someone less pretentious.

The other girl, whose name was Amy, which Greg found out when he politely asked, was not quite as smart and stayed. She wasn’t as bright as Greg either but she wasn’t as dumb as he thought. More accurately, Greg didn’t have the intellectual edge on her he egotistically thought he did. Amy was thought of by most people as a bit dim but this was a false impression built around her broad Northern accent, frequent use of her local colloquialisms, her blonde good looks (shoulder length hair, bright blue eyes in a soft rounded face and a classical Monroe figure) and lack of qualifications. But she was practical and logical and had what she thought of as street smarts. Admittedly, most of the time this boiled down to recognising that she could use her body and her sexuality to get what she wanted, but Amy believed in playing to your strengths.

While Amy did have an active sex life, she didn’t plan on sharing it with Greg. She wasn’t as perceptive as her friend, and so hadn’t figured out how much of an arrogant arse he was, but she found him boring so the same result was guaranteed. She was just looking for a way out when their one-sided and patronising conversation was interrupted.

“What have we here!” Greg winced.

Amy looked around and saw a larger male figure fast approaching. “Do you know that guy?”

Greg frowned so hard it almost gave off physical force. “Yes. Unfortunately.”

“Greg, who’s your friend?” Danny sauntered over to the two of them. Intentionally hadn’t walked but sauntered which Greg recognised as his ‘I’m going to steal this girl from you’ stance and gave Danny a pissed-off look, which was met by a smile. Greg did his level best to wordlessly indicate to Danny that he liked this one and that he should go away. Danny kept a blank smile which indicated that he recognised Greg’s message but was going to ignore it. He stepped over to Amy and held out his hand, which she took.

“Danny. Charmed.”

“Amy.” She looked him up and down, noting that he was well toned and dressed to show it off in a tight white t-shirt and fitted navy chinos that ended an inch above his white deck shoes. He had a bit of a stupid haircut, very short on the sides but long on top and plastered over to one side, but it seemed to work on him. He had a strong tanned face and a confident smile. Amy had a soft spot for guys like him. Greg, wearing straight leg black jeans and a fuzzy grey cardigan which were hanging loosely around his frame, shrunk into himself slightly at the sight of Amy grinning at Danny.

“Has Greg told you that you look gorgeous in that outfit?

Danny broadly winked at Amy, looked over at Greg. “He hasn’t act’ally.”

Danny victoriously put his arm around Greg who stiffened, which made Danny laugh and hug him tighter.

“He’s got an eye for a good looking girl has Greg, but he doesn’t act fast enough. That’s why I follow him around, so I can steal them off him.”

Greg looked straight at Amy. “Not so good at keeping them though are you Danny?” Amy didn’t get the inference, but even if she had would have put it down to jealousy and ignored it. Danny did though and his man hug on Greg increased in pressure past matey and on to macho.

“No, you’re right there mate, but that does mean that I’m single and open to offers. Are you single and open to offers lovely Amy?”

“Maybe. Maybe’m looking for someone tonight. Maybe I let some looker sweep me off me feet.”

Amy always felt the reputation she had was unfair. When described by other girls it was always using the letter ‘S’. Slag, slut, skank, slapper. Even occasionally strumpet, though only ever amongst the more verbose gossips. Men would never use one of these S words, but instead talked in appreciative terms of her…willingness. Amy would admit that she was willing but didn’t think that was such a bad thing. Sex was an integral part of a relationship and Amy didn’t see the point in getting in bed with someone if you didn’t know if they were any good in bed. Once suitable qualifications had been established she was happy to settle down to a sexual monogamy and would stick to it rigidly, jettisoning her partner if they ever transgressed. Didn’t that make her not a slag? Surely a loose woman was someone who had multiple partners, who wasn’t faithful or true to a relationship? Most of the men she had dated were by that definition sluts.

And she had dated a lot of men. Amy looked around the room as she pretended to listen to Danny, she had already decided she’d sleep with him if he ever shut up long enough for her to tell him to find a room, and calculated that she’d slept with probably 75 per cent of the men at the party. Amy didn’t like being alone. That wasn’t to say that she couldn’t be physically by herself, she quite liked having her own space, but more that she liked having someone who would be there when she called, when she needed them or wanted company but only when she wanted them. It was quite a tough criteria and so, Amy reasoned, it was necessary to sleep with a lot of men in order to have a reasonable chance of finding one that met her needs. Danny was saying something on this topic and Amy zoned back into the monologue.

“Oh there’s some choice bachelors in tonight. Hah! Like the Boy Scout. Did you see that the Boy Scout is here?” He asked the last bit of Greg, who nodded.

“Who’s the Boy Scout?” asked Amy, to which Greg pointed at a man at the far end of the room standing on his own looking hopefully around the room. He was tall and lean with a great head of curly brown hair. He had a reserved look to him, even from the opposite end of the room and Amy imagined that his face looked sorry and worried most of the time. “Why’d ya call him the Boy Scout?”

Danny and Greg shared a smirk. Danny set down his drink on a nearby shelf and launched into telling the story, giving Greg no time to get a word in edgeways and possibly reassert a presence in the conversation.

“Boy Scout’s name is Louie, Now, Louie’s ex-girlfriend used to nag him constantly about how predictable he was, how he was so repressed and controlled and never did anything exciting or unexpected or anything like that. So he decides he’ll show her how he can be spontaneous and whatnot. So he takes her to dinner at a fancy restaurant, insists they get dressed up properly and everything, and waits for her to get up to go to the toilet. So he follows her, grabs her and pulls her into the men’s toilets and starts to ravish her.”

“Ravish her?”

Danny grimaced and waved his hands about in a confused way. “You know what I mean, snogging her neck and stroking her legs, that passionate romantic shit that women go nuts for.”

Amy, who considered that passionate romantic shit to be very romantic and not at all shit, wished that more men like Danny would consider it. Confident and self assured was very attractive but knowing that there was more than one way to sexually engage with a woman could guarantee the ugliest man a beautiful girl in his bed every night. Danny wasn’t ugly, but he also was unobservant. He missed the dirty look Amy gave his previous statement and carried on with the story.

“Problem was she got so excited by him doing this that she tried to give him a blow job. That was when she found out he had a condom on. He’d been wearing it the entire night so they could have spontaneous but safe sex.”

Amy twigged. “That’s why you call him Boy Scout, because…”

The others chimed in with her: “He’s prepared.” They all looked over at Louie, who realised that the Condom story was being told again and began furiously blushing. Louie didn’t have great deductive or instinctive abilities but just knew that the story was the first thing any stranger was told about him. He rushed off to another room in the house.  Danny waved at him as he went out and Amy felt a bit bad. She thought to herself that maybe that story could be interpreted as romantic, a man suppressing his natural instincts to try and be a better boyfriend. Then she realised that Charlie must have been wearing a condom throughout the dinner and when they had travelled to the restaurant, and the romanticism fled as quickly as Charlie himself had done.

“So, how’s about me and you leave Greg here and go find somewhere quiet?”

Amy seriously considered it, but then remembered she had duties tonight.

“Actually I better go find me friend, she’s been having a bad time lately and by now’s probably crying on a toilet floor.”

She thought that this would send them running, most men having a severe allergy to the tears of women. Instead Greg and Danny shared a tired look. Greg downed his drink and placed the empty plastic cup next to Danny’s.

“We’ll come with” he said. On seeing Amy’s surprise he shrugged. “I was wondering where Charlie was.”

Charlie was not most men. Looking at him from only a biological perspective he had all the attributes of a typical man. But looking at his physical form without a scientific mindset gave a hint as to his difference. Charlie looked cherubic, short and slightly pudgy all over, especially in the face where his cheeks were tinted as though constantly blushed. He had curly hair that was not a golden blonde but was enough of a light brown to stay in the angelic mould. Charlie himself was well aware of the comparison. As a child he had found himself in a starring role in all of his school nativity plays, always as Gabriel. Parents, all, not just his own, would coo and aww when he was revealed on stage and after the performance had finished he would be congratulated on his incredible performance and perfect-for-the-role image. And after talking to him they would comment that he embodied the very characteristics of an angelic being.

Caring. It was the caring that people really noticed about Charlie. Just talking to him for a few minutes was enough time for his compassion and sympathy to show through. He would ask questions and listen to the answers, probe people on issues that seemed important to them and then add his own contribution without ever turning the conversation onto himself. He would defer to his conversational partner on issues where they held dominance and would consider their opinion carefully where it clashed with his own. He was the same in any company: friend or stranger, male or female. He was not most men.

Especially where romance was concerned. Most men looked for only a few things in their women: tits, arse and low-maintenance. And they could give or take booty and busts. With Charlie, the more complicated the girl the more he was interested. He did have a type as far as looks were concerned, striking dark girls with high cheekbones and slim figures, but what he mostly like was vulnerability. The girls who had eating disorders, the girls who had broken up with their boyfriends and the crazies. Oh, how he was attracted to the crazies. Greg really hoped Amy’s friend wasn’t one of the crazy ones.

Amy Greg and Danny picked their way through the crowded living room, making their way to the stairs. House parties made difficult to tell who was truly drunk and who was just well on their way. At least in a club or a bar, those who had hit the floor could be safely considered to have run their race and could be swept out of the way by the staff. In the informal and comfortable settings of someone’s home, and many of the people at the party had no idea whose house they were in, revellers were spread everywhere. Some stayed standing, swaying, but most had found a place to recline. The lucky ones had found single-seat armchairs and used the opportunity to cheekily invite a member of the opposite sex, or two if they were really fancying their chances, a knee to sit on. Settees were crammed from arm to arm, with a couple more perched precariously on the arms, hanging their legs off the edge as they sat diagonally to allow them to lean back against the wall. Those who had began to buckle later had found a place on the floor and were lolling about in various shapes, arms and legs splayed if they had the space. It was these people who provided the challenge for the travellers, who needed to play a careful game of legs-only twister to avoid the limbs that littered the beige carpet.

They eventually made their way to the stairs where more people were seated. Generally in pairs they were staggered up the steps and so the group were forced to take the long route, weaving their way around the sitters. Greg was reminded of when he ascended the steppes of Nepal on his gap year. As they had climbed the worn winding path in an early morning start they had found themselves moving into a layer of mist which clouded their vision and made his breath heavy in the high altitude. In Nepal they had crested the ridges and found themselves above the fog, able to look across a gentle wispy sea. The house had a similar effect, an thin smoke started at the foot but the further they climbed the thicker it became until they turned the corner at the head of the stairs and saw in an open door across the landing a roomful of stoners blazing like a forest fire. There were six or seven of them strewn across the room, all transfixed by a muted cartoon on the widescreen TV on the wall or the sounds of Joy Division which was crackling from a pair of portable speakers. Amy stopped momentarily to peer into the haze but the boys ahead of her had already seen their destination.

It was indeed a bathroom floor. All in white was the room, plastic floor tiled walls painted ceiling porcelain fixtures, and so was the girl slumped face down half on the floor. She had a floaty white dress and thin white tights beneath it, the only colour on her body coming from the pink bra straps peaking out from below the white shoulder straps. This was almost literally the only colour she had, for her skin was as pale and cold as the bathtub she was clinging to.

“Have you got a friend here? What’s her name?” Charlie had got onto his hands and knees beside her and was gently holding her shoulder, likely half to try and rouse her and half to keep her from fully falling to the floor.

“She’s here mate.” Greg motioned to Amy, who came through the door and joined Charlie on the floor. “Amy, Charlie. Charlie, Amy.”

“Alright duck.” Amy shooed Charlie out of the way and took her friend by the shoulders, firmly as a friend can. “Come on love, had a bit too much to drink have we Gracie?”

“I think she’s had more than a drink.” Charlie stood to get out of the way as Amy turned Grace toward her and Danny and Greg who were leaning on opposing sides of the door frame. As Greg saw her face he knew it was best to extricate Charlie from the situation as soon as possible. Grace had a classical beauty to her face, all straight lines and cream skin and pale grey eyes. She was a face that could have launched a thousand ships where Amy was a face that could have sold a thousand lad’s mags. In her long white dress and dyed black hair that reached down to the small of her back she was the very image of Charlie’s ideal woman.

“Well her friend’s here now Charlie, we can leave her to be taken care of now.”

“One sec” Amy had managed to balance Grace against the bath. “She needs sobering up, she’s proper out of it. Can’t get a sensible word out of her. I’ll go get some water.”

She left the bathroom and Charlie made to replace her at Grace’s side. Greg grabbed his arm and pulled him out of the bathroom.

“Watch her” he said to Danny over his shoulder. “Charlie, you’ve done your job. She’s fine and you’ve kept her there till her mate’s arrived. You can leave her to it now.”

Charlie shook his head. “She’s not alright, she’s taken something.”

“How do you know that?”

“I’ve seen a lot of drunk people, I know what alright drunk looks like.”

Greg grimaced and tried not to let Charlie see it. He was right on that point. Greg himself had benefited from Charlie’s expert care on more than one occasion. In fact, it was so far past more than one occasion that he had lost count. “Alright, even if she’s not alright, even if she has taken something, what can you do? You’re not even first aid trained. And how do you now Amy’s not better able to take care of her, she could be a nurse for all we know!”

“I knew you weren’t listening. I told you I’m a sales rep half an hour ago.” Greg grimaced again. He hadn’t heard Amy come back up the stairs and he waited until he could hear her footsteps change from the soft press of carpet to the tap of heels on hard bathroom floor.

“Either way, she’s here now, we should go.”

They spent the next ten minutes arguing about what to do. Greg didn’t really know why he was bothering. Once Charlie had found a girl in distress he was smitten.

“Look, let’s ask Amy what she thinks about this, Grace is her friend and maybe she doesn’t actually want our where the bloody hell has she gone!”

Greg and Charlie had walked into the bathroom to find Grace sat alone. She looked up at them this time though and seemed able to focus on them. Charlie went back to her side and Greg walked back into the corridor, looking up and down for their absent friend.

“Danny! Danny!”

His head appeared around the door jam of the weed den, a decently sized rollie clenched casually into the corner of his mouth.

“Sup?”

“Where did Amy go?”

Danny shrugged and looked blearily around with half closed eyes. “She went to get some water ages ago.”

Amy had gone to get some more water as Grace had become more cogent but on the way had been intercepted by a handsome man who had without ceremony, but importantly without sleaze or cockiness, had asked her if she might be interested in coming home with him. Amy was so taken by his confidence and deep brown eyes that she went with him. It took her three further nights of decent sex but poor early-morning-exit excuses before she talked to him long enough to realise that he was only interested in her reputation. Amy wasn’t the brightest girl. If so, she might have realised that random men don’t ask if you’d like to have sex with them unless they are pretty sure of the answer. And only want the sex.

It took Greg fully half an hour to find someone who had seen her leave. He cursed friends, acquaintances and girls he had only just met equally and then returned to the bathroom where he helped Charlie carry Grace to a taxi. He had suggested moving her to one of the bedrooms and leaving her to sleep it off, the half an hour had seen her improve to a state where she probably could be left, but Charlie had insisted that they take her back to theirs’ where she’d be safe and could be monitored. Greg had had enough by this point and relented, pausing only to try and tell an incredibly baked Danny that they were leaving. They carried Grace to a taxi, sandwiched her upright on the drive home and dumped her onto Charlie’s bed at the end of the journey.

Charlie carefully removed her shoes, delicate white plimsolls that were badly scuffed and scratched despite looking new in unaffected areas, and had covered her over with a multicoloured throw that he had frequently used for this purpose. He thanked Greg for helping him again and, once Greg had gone, turned the bedroom light off and scrunched down in his deep battered leather armchair that sat in the corner of his room. Charlie intended to stay awake and watch her, make sure her light breathing stayed regular, but he soon fell asleep. By the time he woke in the morning she had gone.