Obsession (v)

Part V

Breaking from the Australian theme for a moment...
The Buzzcocks: Ever Fallen in Love (with someone you shouldn't've) (Link retired)


Being around Sam had never been predictable. But it degenerated to a point where we could spend a weekend together and seem inseparable, and then he would disappear for a fortnight on a binge, not answering calls, noone sure where he was. I would come home from a night out and there he’d be, out of the blue, at 3am, sitting on my lounge, talking to someone, god only knows who, on my phone, the TV blaring, the curtains pulled askew from where he had broken into my apartment. I would be furious, and he’d be indignant. Didn’t I realise that he just wanted to see me? And then the next day he’d be gone again.

Even if he had the best intentions initially to meet up with me in the evening, after a day of drinking and snorting he was going to go wherever the party took him. And if that meant he found himself north of Newcastle after a weekend, then he thought nothing of staying there until he got bored, or the drugs ran out.

I found myself spending more and more time with other friends that I would meet up with on the weekends. In particular, it became usual for me to meet up with his friends Evan and Justin. They shared a place not far from our favourite pub in Manly, and so a group of us would end up there after the pubs had closed, to continue drinking until we all crashed for a few hours.

Evan and I got on particularly well. He had a black humour, and depressive outlook, that few appreciated. However, he enjoyed conversation – combative, quick, brutal conversation. We would tear each other to shreds, and then put each other back together again. It was a game, but most people didn’t understand the rules. It was like a private language between us.

Unfortunately for Evan, his manner tended to alienate people before they had a chance to get to know him. In particular, women found his manner unnerving. He was quite attractive physically, and his smile, on the rare times he shared it, was lovely. Yet night after night he ended up alone.

Evan and I started to talk one night after everyone had passed out. He didn’t understand why I was with Sam, what I was attracted to. How could I explain to him the way Sam could lift up my spirits, my body, my soul, and how he could just as easily leave me gasping for air with a simple thoughtless word. I understood why my friends were confounded by my attraction to Sam. I just couldn’t do anything about it.

We both began looking forward to our quiet talks. The fact that he trusted me with his feelings meant a lot to me. They weren’t something he talked about easily.

Evan had his secrets from his mates. He had given his heart to someone that he knew would never return his feelings. He had fallen in love with his prostitute.

In a moment of desperate loneliness he had visited a brothel. Perhaps he was surprised, when he told me this, that I wasn’t judgemental. I have never been squeamish about the idea of working girls. What I had learnt about Evan, in the time I’d known him, was that he deeply wanted a connection, an intimacy, with someone, and he, for whatever reason, didn’t seem to be able to develop that in a relationship. Who would I be to condemn him for finding a little tenderness where he could.

Evan had been seeing one woman regularly for over a year. He had fallen in love with her, and he had told her that. It was unrequited. She had a boyfriend.But he couldn’t help his feelings, and he couldn’t stop himself visiting her, even though he knew in the long run it wasn’t doing him any good.

Our chats gradually migrated from the lounge, to me curling up on his bed, talking as we fell asleep. It was always a very proper arrangement, always fully clothed, always one of us under the cover, one of us over, and always with the bedroom door open. No one was going to question our decorum. We would lie side by side on his bed, talking quietly in the dark, each wishing that we didn’t wish it were someone else lying beside us.