Wednesday 23 September 2009

Susie is a proper student

So once again, I’m a little drunk. This time, it’s 4.30am (fairly regular) and I’ve spent the entire evening with my flatmates (unreal). I’ve thought for quite a while (and by that, I mean an hour or two) about whether or not I’m going to tell my uni friends about this blog. As far as I know, none of them will find a link to it – if there’s one in a public place, let me know. So basically, it’s been my choice, either I tell them it exists; or I let it be a place where I can actually talk about the things that are interesting/exciting/bothering me, without the worry of someone getting offended.

I moved in on Saturday, it’s now Wednesday morning, technically. So the first day, I was terrified. I wish I could say I was just excited; but if I really think about it, the things I was excited about were learning what my new room was like, getting a key, and putting all my toiletries in place. Let’s be honest, all those things were exciting (except the last, where I discovered that every Thursday my bathroom has to be completely cleared for the cleaners); exactly as exciting as I thought and very very good. I moved in and I found a place that was my own, and it was refreshing and exciting and brilliant. Then there was the problem of making friends. The one person, Emily, who I met online, would not be here for a whole day. So the easy ‘I already know you’ conversation was out the window. I would have to start the real conversations; asking names and finding things out about each other.

The whole time, I was pretty nervous, in the bad way. I got crabby and irritated with my parents being around pretty quickly, because I wanted to unpack and people I vaguely knew were speaking to me online about QM (Queen Mary, University of London – I may as well elaborate, because I never have before and no one from here will ever read this) and all I wanted to do was empty my boxes and start properly living here. After the first night, I knew exactly how the flat would work. There was Mr and Mrs Cardiff – not an actual married couple, but seemingly so. Very lovely, but they had obviously chosen halls together, and even 4 days later, they are still fairly segregated. There were also a load of American people, who frankly scared me a bit, because they were obviously older. I had prepared myself to talk to freshers; people who were in the same boat as me, but these girls were international students – here for a semester, and completely not what I was expecting.

Turns out they are a lot of fun. Also in the group is Eve who seems like a massive air-head and the last sort of person I would choose to talk to; but there we go. I suppose I should count myself lucky that there’s only one of her in my flat. She likes to talk about how many people she’s screwed and how many parties she’s been to and what crazy stuff happened there. I couldn’t care less, and she doesn’t even say it in an interesting way, but it looks like I’m going to have to be her friend for a while, so I guess I’ll get used to it.

Susie is so fucked if her uni friends ever learn about this page. Seriously, if there’s any link to it anywhere online, please let her know, because she needs to get rid of it.

Finally in the flat, is Tom. His boyfriend helped him move in and stayed for a day or two. His 29 year old boyfriend, who is nowhere near good enough for him. Tom is facially alright but not desperately hot, but his body is wonderful. He walks sexy, he stands sexy, he even stirs pasta sexy. He’s my new gay best friend, and I’m so happy about it. Emily, my facebook friend and I, will watch him anyday. And the more drunk we all get, the more I am confessing to him that I love him a little bit. So far he has taken it as a compliment, so it’s all good. Emily (Brenda) and I look to be friends for a long time. We'e similar in all the good ways, I think. It's likely that we will be best friends for years. I've already told her about the situation with Ally, and she understands pretty well I think. She's already given me a nickname (Chelmsford, the town I went to school in, because she saw a sign for it and she thought I actually lived there), and it's sad how special it makes me feel, and how excited I am about being 'Chelmsford' for years.

Anyway, other than the rundown of my flatmates, I guess there are other things I could talk about. There’s a lot of talk about sex here. I’m surprised by how much it surprised me. As much as I knew that all-over-the-place sex was sort-of common-place these days, I think that was something I didn’t prepare myself for. Maybe it’s because they’re trying to impress each other, or maybe it’s because they’re actually that sex-crazed, it seems to be a hot topic of conversation at the moment. Eve seems to bring up the stories because we’ll think we’ll respect her for it; Emily seems to have had fairly similar experiences to me, except with the occasional screw; Tom seems a little more subtle about it, but it’s quite obvious he was a bit of a slut in the past. Ok, so sex stories don’t bother me, I’ll listen to them, I’ll talk about them. But at the end of the day, I’m a virgin, and I’m not ashamed of it. I think sex is for long term relationships (if not marriage) and generally, only harm comes from anything outside of that. The stories I’ve heard only confirm that feeling. I expect my flatmates have picked up that I’m not going to share any stories about a time I’ve fucked some guy and he’s completely ignored me in the morning; I hope they’ve realised that it’s because that kind of story doesn’t interest me, and because I wouldn’t ever get myself in that kind of situation.

Maybe it’s just tonight (and maybe the night before) that have been so sex-orientated. Maybe once we’re over this getting-to-know-each-other stage, it’ll die down a little. I’m not too bothered if it does or doesn’t, but if did surprise me how surprised I was by it. This is the 21st century, I feel like I should have expected it from new uni friends.

One of the American girls said that she was a virgin too, and a 19 year old. If all else fails it looks like it’s her I’ll be talking too. I wish that didn’t have to be the case.

Susie is yes, officially drunk. Vodka and then crappy wine make her more honest (apparently) and more willing to bother blogging. She has to wake up in 4 and a half hours, so this blog is so over.

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