Swylce

Musings and Writing of GG Alexander

Savage Writing: For the Long Haul

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My idea tank ran empty so I left it alone for a few weeks, and it proceeded to throw a fit and pitched four ideas at once. Be prepared for those in the coming weeks.

This week’s task was “Endurance.” Was an interesting meet, and also the last for one of the best writers in the group, so much reminiscing and sober praise was had alongside the usual revelry. This silly rant/atrocity was my contribution.

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Dear Gran,

Me and Rick have been screwing nearly as much as we’ve been fighting recently, and I tell you, he’s a lot better at prolonging one of those things than the other. It’s like we’ve become trapped in a perpetual make-up sex circle, where we start sniping at each other as we put our clothes back on, then keep on bickering until it escalates into full-blown arguing, and finally at the point where we’re shouting we rip each other’s clothes off and the whole cycle begins again. I wouldn’t mind it if the good part lasted longer, but he says the tension of fighting makes him pop when it comes down to it. He must be lying, because that would mean he’s pretty much always tense (since we pretty much always fight) and I know for a fact that when he’s playing that new shootie-army game he’s the most relaxed person on his internet team. Maybe pretending to kill people is easier than dealing with me, or maybe he pretends that every ethno-terrorist he guns down is me and that’s why he’s so happy.

It’s not like we don’t spend time away from each other, don’t get me wrong, there’s plenty of time where we’re geographically apart and we can’t really fight, like when one of us is at work or football or whatever. It’s just that because of technology we can always text each other mean things. Though half the time when he says something sarcastic I don’t get it because he doesn’t seem to realise that words don’t have tone and that you should always use emoticons for these kind of things, and that usually blows up in both our faces when we meet in person again because, say, he’s said “Don’t you think we have enough rice?” when we have none for dinner, and I think, “Oh, we must have some that I don’t know about, I won’t get any,” and then he gets annoyed when he’s halfway through cooking and realises I didn’t get any rice and I say it’s his own damn fault and there we go again.

Anyway, I didn’t mean to blurb all that. Jenny’s away in Australia for a few weeks and I’ve not really had anyone to talk to. I mean I couldn’t say any of that to mum now, could I? And nothing much has been happening, so fighting with Rick is all I’ve really been thinking about apart from work and the telly. The point is the only thing that happened this week was mine and Rick’s anniversary meal, and when mum phoned the night before she kept asking why I stayed with him if we’re not happy any of the time and I had to explain that no, it is a kind of happy, we are happy, we just don’t show it in the way that other people do, like by kissing in public and all that teenage stuff. I thought I’d explain to you since you’re more open-minded than she is with these things.

See, the last time I had an anniversary meal with a boyfriend it was with James, and you remember how I used to complain that he was a pushover on everything, and said we could eat wherever I wanted and bought me red roses in the morning and all that gross crap. So I was really looking forward to Rick fighting me about it, and sure enough he said he couldn’t stand Italian food and it was all a rip-off anyway, and I said I wanted atmosphere more than value for money and couldn’t he just give me my “Bella Noche” thing? I only said that to rile him up – I can’t think of anything worse than someone eating my spaghetti – and it worked a treat and we were screwing about ten minutes later. Then I said we could go for Japanese like he wanted but he said we could go Italian if I wanted and it was stupid and funny and we bickered about it again. So finally we went for Japanese and had a go at each other all the way through the meal and the people beside us and the waiters all looked at us funny. It was great.

Anyway, he said I ate my soup inefficiently because I scooped too much onto the spoon and then had to blow on it five times as I sipped it. I said if he didn’t spend a fiver a week on lottery tickets and scratch cards every week, he’d have enough money to buy that motorbike he’s always wanted by now. And he smiled for a second and looked at me and said, “You know, if you keep on winding me up like this and doing everything wrong, I might have to marry you one of these days.” And I said “Don’t you fucking dare,” but I couldn’t keep a straight face. He’d better not fucking dare, because if he asks I might have to say yes, and how the fuck would either of us manage a wedding? (Excuse my French, but really?) He knows I’m in this for the long haul. We don’t need to change (except for that one thing I mentioned before).

I know mum thinks it’s weird but you might understand. I mean, it gets really tiring sometimes, constantly pretending you’re hating each other, and trying to figure out the genuine complaints among the wind-ups, but if you’re tired then that’s what sleep is for, right? I’d rather fight constantly for a thousand years than be or be with a doormat. And everyone else is so damn genuine all the time and it’s boring. Me and Rick aren’t boring. I dared him to be sincere for half a day and he refused and said the only way he could do it is if he didn’t talk, and didn’t see me at all, and neither of us want that.

Anyway, that’s all my news for now. Give my love to Auntie Mabel and try to stick up for me to mum when she next visits. Glad to hear you’re still going strong, and don’t worry that Curly’s still humping your leg now he’s back from the vet’s – it shows neither of you are past it.

Lots of love,

Suzy.

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Written by G.J.

29/05/2013 at 10:44 pm

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