My Mate Wayne used to walk around with a little book of quotes and poetry and girls phone numbers. This was before mobile phones & email & stuff like that. He was (in his defence) an art student so it was kind of acceptable. He had a soft spot for this girl he knew who was ‘The Grunge Dream Girl™’. She wore baggy jumpers and torn jeans, she had straggly hair piled up on top of her head and great big boots and Wayne was smitten.
She took his book from him one day when we were sat in the snug of The Earl (the pub that kept Cure fans and Moshers warm and dry while it pissed down outside) and she scrawled in really pretty writing the following words.
“On your third broken window your hair full of glass, throw your clothes in the hallway again just a sheet on your back, so you’re super-connected now all the freaks gather ’round and the crowd in your bedroom waits for a piece of your personal space, are there heartstrings connected to the wings you’ve got slapped on your back?”
Well Wayne was massively impressed with this. I mean she wrote poetry, She had lovely handwriting and (reading between the lines) she wanted to take his shirt off.
So Wayne brought The Grunge Dream Girl™ a drink and I made myself scarce so they could get their grunge on.
I went off to a mates flat. We drank coffee with whiskey in and warmed ourselves in front of his fire while he watched Quatermass and the Pit on VHS. Then we went to The Spread Eagle. This was the Goth Pub where all were welcome, but you paid for your drinks twice. Once in cash and once in the amount of drama you were prepared to tolerate between the bar staff, their exes, their lovers, the kitchen staff and yourself.
I never lasted long in The Spread.
So after a couple of hours passed I made my way back to The Earl. Wayne was still there. So was The Grunge Dream Girl™.How had this not progressed? Why were they still here when clearly they were destined for a duvet and fumbling?
When they called me over to join them it was something of a sweet sight. They’d bonded over a love of childhood stuff like 80’s cartoons and old TV commercial jingles and were quite happy in the warm and cosy fire place of The Earl rather than ‘going at it’ in a damp and cold student digs.
They were indeed Super-connected. They were two kids away from home snuggling down in front of a fire. Damn the rock and roll. Damn the Grunge Scene. Damn the Art College clichés. They just wanted cartoons and cocoa.
I’d love to tell you they’re married now with kids and a house and garden. Truth is, the next night, they acted like they’d never met. She went off to get high with a biker and he blew it with a waitress at the greasy spoon before coming back to our digs to sit up with me for the millionth time and listen to records.