Four

'Christ- it's like the undertaker's Christmas party!'
I'm inclined to disagree- I'm fairly sure any silence at an undertaker's Christmas party would have these undertones of sex, lies and deceit.
J sits at the centre of the table, ironic party hat perched on her blonde hair, gorging on our Indian feast of rices, naans, pokoras, chicken and curries across the spice spectrum, and doing her darndest to preserve the happy birthday atmosphere. Her shag-of-choice is banished to a distant corner of the celebrations, looking on sulkily, and doing his darndest to keep himself to himself. The reason for his sulkiness, his ex I, sits near us, a vision of pixie-cut hair and midnight blue silk, doing her darndest to pretend that she doesn't want him back. In the centre of the celebrations, several girls with similar dark mid-length hair, similar big belts and skinny jeans, and similar floaty tops simmer at the boy quietly- out of 'loyalty' to I, they haven't spoken to the boy in question since they broke up in the autumn. K flirts shamelessly with the boy in question- well, other than my squeeze, he is the only boy in the room- not that dating me stopped H flirting with him earlier in the evening.
The squeeze and myself do our best to circulate, see every face, keep out of the mess that well inevitably unravel if alcohol gets involved. Fortunately, only one bottle of champagne is involved in the night's revelries, so chances of an alcohol-fueled bloodbath seem all but impossible.

The end of the night brings with it a sigh of relief.
Throughout the chatter and clatter and the indian cusine, everyone seems to have aged. They each say their goodbyes, wearily embracing the rest of the group and exhaustedly placing expensive coats on heavy shoulders. For me, however, reaching 11pm without any argee-bhaji (ignore the pun) should be considered a minor miracle. There is a certain spring in my step I gather up my coat, kiss my goodbyes and head for the door. The streets are cold, and my flimsy Topshop dress does little to keep me warm. Luckily, as always my squeeze is there, arms around me, dashing in and out of lamplight right next to me. We reach my house near midnight- our breath is crystalline in the air, merging together.
'That could've gone better.'
'It could've gone much worse,' he assures me, wrapping us both in his hoodie.
'Thank you for coming tonight. Sorry for dragging you into that mess.'
'Glad to do it, beautiful.' He smiles.
'I love you, you know?'
'I know. I love you too.'
A brief embrace, and he's retreating into the murky darkness- probably in search of the nearest chip shop, knowing him.
Running into the warmth, I realise that my relief is tainted with disappointment- four and a half months later, and things still aren't any more united on the friendship front.

Distractions

I can't believe the holidays are nearly over- again! Holidays can never be long enough, in my opinion. As long as you've got some good friends, some time to kill, and maybe some cheesy pizza and cheesier films, there's always something to do.
Admittedly, the party scene has been somewhat bleak- apart from a few hometown piss-ups, it appears everyone's actually been working so they an pass their A-levels/ afford to go on holiday this year. I, on the other hand, have foregone this sensible approach, to do the following:

1. Spending lazy days under the covers with my squeeze, watching crappy films and picking out the glow from the fairy lights in his eyes.
2. Trying Walker's slightly bizarre new crisp flavours in bed with H.
3. Reading comics about emo-scenester-vampires.
4. Eating shitloads of my favorite greasy, cheesy, order-in pizza (they're actually so perfect, they're above my mother on speed dial).
5. Buying my own weight in books from the local charity shops, including Geek Love, Memoirs of a Geisha, Love Lives and With One Lousy Free Packet of Seed, which were all my 'to buy' list anyway.
6. Dancing around J's bedroom to the new Lily Allen album. Not world's biggest fan, but a lot of fun to dance to.
7. Blowing lots and lots of money on cheap tacky bracelets (to mix in with my expensive ones, so my arm-wear looks a little more kooky and original) and luxurious cardigans in the sales (to throw over flirty spring blouses, or keep safe for when winter rolls around again).
8. Keeping H company via telephone, as she is under house arrest for getting wankered in front of her Granddad.
9. Spending any remaining minutes after comforting H on the squeeze when he went to visit his family.
10. Watching Nick and Nora's Infinite Playlist. I defy you not to fall in love with one of the adorable gay guys from 'The Jerk-Offs'.
11. Making some sweet mixtapes :)
12. Having a duvet day with my girlfriends, and watching Minute Men. I know it's Disney, but you should watch it for its cheesiness, predictability, and the fact that you can tell the little one is going to be hot when he's older. And I also quite like the big scary guy, but I always love big scary guys :)
13. Listening to Masterpiece Theatre. Not as good as Fix Me, but still suitably mind-blowing.
14. Trying to teach myself to cook- not as disastrous as it might sound.
15. Actually making some progress with my 'self-destructive-party-people' novel, which I'm hoping will be more Great Gatsby than Gossip Girl.
16. Praying the holidays won't end. It didn't work. Thanks again, guy in the sky.

Mood

10 Reasons Why I Am In A Mood:

1. PMT. Enough said, I think.
2. My not-so-adorable border terrier Pumpkin has got hold of a pair of my heels. I don't know how strong her teeth are, but she managed to chew straight through the heel of one of them. Also, they were a London-charity-shop find, and so are irreplaceable.
3. I have put on ridiculous amounts of weight due to recent comfort eating, highlights of which include: an entire tub of Ben and Jerry's Baked Alaska ice cream, a whole meat feast pizza, and a box of Lily o Briens'.
4. I spilt bleach down my favorite hoodie, and it doesn't look good in a 'fashion statement' sort of way.
5. Mathsmathsmaths. Grr.
6. I've had 7 hours sleep in the past 3 days- it's all party, party, party around here.
7. As a result of said partying, the balls of my feet are in agony.
8. My parents have decided they dislike my boyfriend (who I had a steamy sleepover with on Friday, not that they need to know about that), simply because he's my boyfriend.
9. A picture of my nipple my have got onto Facebook- don't even ask.
10.I didn't get to make a snow angel before the snow thawed out. Boo.

Clocks

9pm - Another Friday night on the town, another crappy club packed with one hundred intoxicated horny teenagers, another shit DJ who thinks he's a God. Every week, a different pub gets stormed, the locals terrorised and the bar drained. Tonight, suffice to say, is no exception.
The night is young- it's all meet and greets, air kisses, and the impatient girls trying to get a dance going. I'm happy to get the drinks in, sit back, and watch things take their natural course. Five minutes ago, I was in someone's bedroom, polishing off fish and chips with my girlfriends, applying purple eyeliner, smoothing out my plaid minidress and stepping into my Hampstead charity shop heels. Now, I'm being dragged to the dance floor by a girl in a cream dress- 'AWESOME to see you!' she drawls, already reasonably wankered.
Oh well- time to get started, then...


0am- 'Do you know these guys?'
'No. Do you'
'No bloody idea...'
The four guys who were grinding me from all angles finally wander off, leaving me in the arms of my current squeeze. I can pick out almost every face in the crowd- the friends of friends, the casual acquaintances, the old school friends, the old flames...
I see H in the arms of her ex, her face the picture of confusion, wondering whether or not this is the best idea. W, crying into the chest of a boy she doesn't know, hurt once again by her ex. I, leading a stranger outside for a drunken fumble she'll regret in the morning. K, gathering her belongings again, looking wistfully at the boy she attached herself to, as he slides his hands down the back of someone else's knickers. L, fresh from a break up, throwing herself at any and every boy in close proximity.
I see them all, their love lives spanning out into a web of pain and puzzlement. Each web merges into each other, as old flames are passed from mouth to mouth in search of something with meaning. I look at them all, and wonder how their lives got so complicated.
I see S, staring down at me, hands on my ass, and small tipsy smile on his face. I look at him, and wonder how my life got so simple.

1am- Finally, I get him to myself. We go back to my place. He watches me go about my nighttime routine- take my tablets, take off my dress, put my kitsch robot necklace back on the stand, make a cup of tea, drink it. He brushes the hair out of ym face; calls me beautiful. I put down my mug, carefully; slowly. Within five minutes he's in my bed, on his back, kissing me like my lips are strangers to him.

2am- We lie on our sides, hands clasped, completely naked. I see the satisfaction in his eyes. We don't speak; we don't move. We simply breathe, and try to figure out whether or not we're still awake.

3am- 'Do you believe in ghosts?'
We're still naked, his arms around me.
'Guess so. You?'
'Yeh, I guess.'
'Is it strange how sometimes you remind me of me?'
'Not really. We're not similar enough for it to be considered narcissism.'

The next day- I got no sleep. We get on a bus, go somewhere-anywhere-nowhere. We talk food and fantasies and bank robbers with nothing to lose. I can feel sleep is near, so I nuzzle against that cinnamon, tangerine, ash and soap scented neck.
I'm still wondering how life got this simple, right up until the moment my eyes close.