Hey there unbelievers 🙂
The Easter holidays are upon us once again. Let’s here it for bank holidays! What follows is a bit of a retro-post. Not so much ‘What Lynn Did Next…’ but some back story.
A couple of days ago I got in touch with an old school friend (IT is a small world) and we got talking. He – let’s call him ‘B’ – was my best mate at primary school and, for a time, at secondary school too. I remember not fitting in with the other boys in class. They liked fighting and football, I liked Banarama* and books. Alarm bells anyone? 🙂 But B didn’t care and we were mates through the end of the 70s up to the late 80s.
( * So it seems I’ve always loved girl groups. Being fabulous? It is your destiny!! 🙂 )
I’ve read that men don’t form close relationships with their mates, but I think that’s not true. I think that we do, its just we don’t often talk about them. After all, part of the Man Code ™ is never admit your true feelings. Mmm… maybe I should have gone for a ‘Man Club’ gag (‘The first rule of Man Club is…’), but there’s a risk it may have started to sound very, very camp. 😀
Where was I? Oh yes, close mates. B and I shared most of our growing up experiences – no, not the kinky ones before you think that. Well, apart from him showing me his first porn mag, but that’s another story! – and we had very similar interests: larking about, puerile humour, heavy metal, comics, computers, sci-fi, etc. Pretty much typical teenage boy stuff. Ooops. I realised I missed off girls, but to be honest, they didn’t really register on the radar at that time. Late developer, just plain shy or other interests? I’ll let you be the judge of that one. 🙂
So where are we going with this stream of consciousness that bursts from my brain, down my fingers and through the keyboard? The truth of the matter is that I feel I owe him an apology (which – if things go alright if we meet up for a pint – I’ll give him). For you guys, it’s this: B was a glammie. While I went down the ‘angry kid’ route – lots of black, looking scruffy and listening to music that sounded like it came from a breaker’s yard, B went the other way: long hair, skinny jeans, a bit of slap and doing well with the ladies.
‘Course, this look doesn’t suit everyone, but he pulled it off and he looked cool too. Hell, it was the 80s. Caught up in my own teenage angst and let’s face it, self-denial’s an ugly thing right? – I was rude to him when we bumped into each other about a year later. “You look like a ****ing girl,” I jibed. B just laughed it off and since that day, whenever I think of school mates, I think back to that time and think: You tw**. Why did you say that?
I suppose that looking back I was jealous. Back then I was trying to project this arrogant macho FU image to the world (Ed: you got arrogant down pat) but internally, and if I’m honest, I wish I’d had the courage to do as B did: namely, just be yourself. I was so not that macho sh** that I presented to the world. I read J17, More and Cosmo et al more than I ever read Kerrang. Once the sea of hormones ebbed, I calmed down a bit, got some perspective – and some professional help – things got a lot easier in my 20s.
So there you go, a bit of regret on my part and some noise from the history faults. Will I tell him all about me when we meet up? No, not unless his asks directly (the gossip did go around town when someone outed me) but I will say sorry. I know it seems a bit daft, but really, your mates: they make life much more fun don’t they?
Take care and happy holidays,
[ Lyric: Ugly by the Sugababes. ]