because none of us is fucking up like we think we are, is what i'm trying to say

Wednesday, 24 March 2010


I am one of those irritating people with a special gap year story. It is an offense punishable by social leprosy, I know, but let's face it. I bummed about for long enough. I deserve to have at least a few dinner party anecdotes even if I do risk becoming the girl who interrupts you every other sentence to say, "Really? Gosh, that reminds me of this time that I was in the orphanage in southern India...

At the end of the day I need something to use whenever I end up chatting to some boring physiotherapist from Bangor for the first course. When she acts like a day-trip to Glasgow makes her freaking Leo DiCaprio in The Beach I can get all LISTEN LADY. YOU HAVEN'T HAD AN ADVENTURE UNTIL YOU HAVE ACCIDENTALLY HAD A GOAT POOP IN YOUR MOUTH. OKAY?

I pretty much tell it the same way, too, probably every time I utter the words, "Gosh, that reminds me so much of the time I was in Sri Lanka..." And I'm not going to lie. It has gotten me to second base on at least three different dates. Boys seem to like a girl who has had it a little rough and ready.

I get sort of misty-eyed as I tell the story, and I use the palms of my hands to create the visuals. I sort of swoop them from side to side like I'm in a Spice Girls video and blink a lot slower than I might otherwise do. "It had been an awfully long day," I'll say, and then I'll do a half-smile at a non-existent private joke. "And I remember I was absolutely wet through. My kaftan was positively sticking to me. I suppose that is what you get for going on jungle safari in monsoon season!" At this point I do a little knee touch or elbow graze. You know. I want my pray potential lover date dinner companion to feel included in my story. That's what will get me lucky, this shared intimacy.

"I remember literally ringing out my hair as I climbed out of the jeep and then holding my breath as I realised that right out on the horizon, in the distance," (this is where the hand waving thing comes in), "I could see mummy elephant, and daddy elephant, and baby elephant. It was truly beautiful," I'll say. 

Normally I catch myself here to ask a question of the other, just to highlight how nonchalant I am with the tales of my world travels. Oh yes, they've probably already decided to kiss me after dinner by now. I'm so charming. Not at all like those other girls. I would never hack into your emails or secretly follow you when you go out for a beer with the boys because I suspect there is somebody else and I definitely wouldn't call you names if you didn't call for like, a day and a half. Probably.

And as they agree how wonderful that must have been, I then reach my climax. I say, "And just when I thought it couldn't get any more perfect mummy elephant trumpeted. She sang right across the trees and the fields and the sky and the very sound of her reverberated through my very soul. It was magical." CHUR-CHING! I just sealed the deal. "I've never experienced a feeling like it."


This video has just been brought to my attention. My only conclusion? I'M A TOTAL DICK.

Thank you, and goodnight.
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