I’m not one to be nostalgic.
...wait, that’s not right.
I suffer from chronic nostalgia. Why else would I indulge myself with this blog? As the observant amongst you may have gleaned, I harbour quite the collection of regrets. A classier individual would preserve them in their original packaging and keep them in mint condition deep inside while trying to ignore the gradual onset of debilitating personality defects. For better or worse, I prefer to replay incessantly the regretful incidents inside my skull like never-ending repeats of Top Gear. And to soothe my deflated ego, I’ll often take the opportunity to revise my words and actions for a more favourable imaginary outcome.
So here’s a collection of past exchanges where the stammering that tumbled from my mouth could have taken a more desirable shape.
...wait, that’s not right.
I suffer from chronic nostalgia. Why else would I indulge myself with this blog? As the observant amongst you may have gleaned, I harbour quite the collection of regrets. A classier individual would preserve them in their original packaging and keep them in mint condition deep inside while trying to ignore the gradual onset of debilitating personality defects. For better or worse, I prefer to replay incessantly the regretful incidents inside my skull like never-ending repeats of Top Gear. And to soothe my deflated ego, I’ll often take the opportunity to revise my words and actions for a more favourable imaginary outcome.
So here’s a collection of past exchanges where the stammering that tumbled from my mouth could have taken a more desirable shape.
Girl: ‘I’m impressed you managed to find me among all these people.’
What I should have said: ‘Thank my childhood tracking razorbacks in the bewintered belts of forest on the Rhine.’
What I actually said: ‘I remember what you look like from behind.’
Friend (angry after I’d thrown my 20-stone frame down onto his prone body): ‘Your tits are bigger than my mum’s!’
What I should have said: ‘I’ve got something bigger to give your mum!’ or ‘You still suck your mum’s tits!’ or something equally witty at the age of 13.
What I actually said: *waddles away crying*
Girl in chat-room (Honeybunch69): ‘Tell me you love me.’
What I should have said: ‘Honeybunch69, you seem like a really nice girl. I completely believe that you’re 16, large-breasted, and dripping wet at the thought of cyber-sex with a fat, perspiring 12-year old on his mum’s computer. But I don’t think a chat-room is the proper medium for declaring our love. Perhaps we should give it some time, get to know each other a bit, and see where our emotions lead us.’
What I actually said: ‘I love you. Wanna cyber?’
Girlfriend: ‘Do you mind if we watch the X-Factor?’
What I should have said: ‘OH GOD NO, PLEASE, NOT THAT. ANYTHING BUT THAT. I FEAR FOR MY INTELLECT, MY FAITH IN HUMANITY, AND MY RESTRAINT IN NOT BATTERING YOU TO DEATH WITH THE TOASTER.’
What I actually said: ‘Of course I don’t mind!’
Karl Kennedy from Neighbours: ‘Did you guys enjoy the show?’
What I should have said: ‘Karl, my love, it was the single most arousing moment of my life. Now put those talented hands on my body.’
What I actually said: ‘Yeah! I thought you’d be shit!’
Attractive girl (noticing a pattern?): ‘It’s late, you can just stay here if you want.’
What I should have said: *porn bass* It’s natural
It’s chemical (let’s do it)
It’s logical
Habitual (can we do it?)
It’s sensual
But most of all...
Sex is something we should do
Sex is something for me and you
I’m not your father
I’m not your brother
Talk to your sister
I am a lover
C-c-c-c-come on!’
What I actually said: ‘No, I think I’m coming down with something. I’ll just get snot all over your pillows.’
Perhaps taking sex advice from George Michael is where I’ve gone astray all along?
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