And an Island Never Cries

 I am, to a fault, one of the most emotionally volatile people I know. My uncle says that it’s a characteristic of all women on my mum’s side of the family. I say it’s a characteristic of all women who have ever had to deal with men. I go crazy sometimes, but at the root of the mentalness there is undoubtedly a Y chromosome involved.

The line between relative sanity and borderline schizophrenia seems so thin that trusting the most untrustworthy of species – being boys – with the leverage to just tip you over the edge seems absolutely ridiculous. In general, I choose to focus my energy on my own personal success, bar the occasional time when I am tricked into falling in love. As documented, this never goes well. The closest and most stable relationship I have with a male is with my dog, and he only loves me because I bribe him with food. Unsurprisingly, the food trick works for awhile with most boys as well. However, dogs, blogs, degrees and careers seem safe, as it’s doubtful they’ll ever turn to me one day and tell me that they’re just not that into me.

This isn’t to say I don’t enjoy male company – quite the opposite. I enjoy male company very much, but in a ‘love them and leave them’ sort of way, before they can leave me. The last time that things went beyond sex and friendship with a boy, since Dale, it was beyond a disaster.

Remember Ost Bub? To be honest, it had been so long you would’ve thought I’d remember nothing of it, but I remembered everything. His laugh, his broken English, his persistently happy demeanour. I had been completely infatuated with him. And I’ve given him a new name – Bullenbeisser, or Beisse (like scheisse, which is what our situation is). A couple months ago, just after term had ended, I had a chance encounter with him in town. 

I heard a loud whistle behind me and turned to see what it was. My eyesight went to Beisse immediately, who was easily the tallest person around. He smiled that massive smile that covers half of his face and I started laughing as I walked towards him. ‘Hello!’ I said, as he bent down to wrap his arms around me.

‘Hello!’ He mimicked in his thick German accent.

‘What are you doing here? I thought you went home.’

‘Um, yes. I did this, and then I needed to do some research here so I come for two weeks.’ He said, matter-of-factly.

‘And you didn’t think to email me to tell me you were coming? How rude.’ I teased.

He laughed. ‘Yes, well, it is a very short trip.’

‘Come to think of it, you never replied to the last email I sent you.’

He frowned. ‘I don’t remember this.’

‘It’s okay, that’s all in the past now … so when did you get here?’

‘Last week.’

‘So you’re only here for one more week?’

‘Yes.’

‘I see. We should catch up if you have any spare time.’

‘I am finished with my work, I can catch up any time.’ I liked that all of his conversation was just very matter-of-fact and to the point, it created the illusion that he would never lie to me.

‘Well, what are you doing right now?’

‘Catch up?’ He asked, and smiled again.

‘Sure.’ I said, mirroring his smile.

We walked around in the sunshine for awhile before finding a pub to sit and have drinks at. It was as if no time had passed since he had left and gone back to Germany. We required no debriefing on what had transpired in the year since we had last seen each other, and instead spoke as one would to their best friend.

After the first time we slept together I had discovered that he had a girlfriend back in Germany, and through the course of conversation it had come up that he was still with this girlfriend, but we quickly changed the subject from her to anything else and she became a distant afterthought once more. Not having met her, I for some reason justified my relationship with him as being nothing more than a whimsical affair, deeply grounded in something as tangible as Neverland.

After sitting in the sun and drinking all afternoon we migrated towards my college. Once we got to the gates we stood there for a moment and he stuck his hands in his pockets and rocked back and forth on his feet, whistling and looking up at the sky, before glancing down and me and laughing. I loved the way he quite clearly could amuse himself to his heart’s content. He found himself as hilarious as I did, which was probably why we were always laughing. His childlike wonder with everything, and his innocent excitement over the simplest of things (the mechanism at the bottom of a Stella glass which makes it bubble incessantly fascinated him to no end) was one of the things I found most endearing about him.

‘Do you want to come and hang out in my room?’ I asked, finally.

‘Um, let me think …’ He said, placing his hand to his chin before quickly saying, ‘Yes!’ and then laughing at his own joke. I couldn’t help but laugh as well and we went to my room.

Once in my room I got onto my bed and sat upright against the wall. He walked in and took my desk chair and placed it in the middle of the room, sitting down on it. As if it were an inside joke to himself, he started laughing, kicked off his shoes and came to join me on the bed. We sat their laughing and talking for another thirty minutes, almost as if we were waiting for the other to make the first move. I won the stubbornness battle and he kissed me first. We kissed for a long time, and it seemed that there was no end-goal to anything we did, we just enjoyed every moment for what it was. Whereas often with other guys there is quite clearly an agenda, being to get me naked as quickly as possible, with Beisse time seemed to be a passive observer of everything we did.

Eventually we did have sex and it was better than I had remembered. Afterward I rested on top of him, listening to the loud thud of his heart echoing through his massive chest. He played with my hair mindlessly for awhile before we got dressed and continued talking and laughing for another hour.

After he left I showered and as I walked in front of a mirror I noticed that I was still smiling and laughing to myself about something he had said. ‘Scheisse.’ I exhaled.

The next couple of days we went to lunches together and did touristy things around town before he would have to go to some department dinner or meeting with other academics. We didn’t try to sleep together again until the night before he was meant to go home.

We were out at dinner, and as he was paying the bill I said, ‘Would you like to come back to my room?’

He smiled. ‘Yes.’

We held hands and walked back towards my college, laughing and talking the entire way. His English had improved massively since the year before. As soon as we were through my door, conversation ceased and we began kissing immediately, making our way to the bed.

I don’t know how so, but this time seemed much more intimate than before. There was more of an urgency to our kissing as if our bodies subconsciously recognised that this could be the last time we were going to be together.

After awhile he pulled away and bit his lip, shaking his head as he looked at me. He laughed a bit and exhaled deeply as he threw his head back and looked at the ceiling for a moment before tilting his head back down and looking into my eyes. He said something softly in German, and I didn’t need to know the language to understand that it was something I wasn’t going to want to hear.

I tried him anyway. ‘Vas?’

He blinked once, keeping his gaze into my eyes. ‘I can’t do this.’ He whispered in a heavy accent.

I looked down, swallowing hard. ‘I know.’ I said, trying to reject the burning in my eyes. He said something in German and I looked into his deep blue eyes, unable to hold the tears back any longer. He quickly kissed me and I squeezed my eyes closed, the tears escaping as I did. They ran between our faces and I felt his grip tighten around me.

He pulled away and rested his forehead on mine. Eventually, he lifted his head up and stared me in the eyes. ‘I remember your email.’

‘What?’

‘That you sent last time. I wanted to write you back, but I didn’t know if I would ever see you again and it just didn’t seem … fair.’ I blinked as tears rolled out the sides of my eyes.

I looked him in the eyes. ‘I don’t want you to go.’

He said something to me in German and kissed me.

I knew it was entirely likely that we would never see each other again, but neither of us had wanted to admit it. I had found it harder each time I was near him to hide how I felt about him. It was the feeling that you rarely get, but which is disconcerting nonetheless. I couldn’t be near him and not next to him, and I found myself always unintentionally in contact with him, whether it was just our knees touching as we sat next to each other, or our arms wrapped around each other when alone. 

It had only been a couple of days since we had last slept together, and though the sex had been great, it largely concerned me that I was becoming increasingly attached to Beisse. I turned my head to the side as he continued to speak to me in German. I didn’t know a word, but again, by his tone I understood. I held my breath until the inevitable sobbing began and my chest convulsed underneath him. I put my hand over my eyes and he put his hand over mine and intertwined his fingers between mine, pulling my hand away from my face. I turned to face him again, tears burning my cheeks. He kept talking to me in German before he pressed his lips to mine. He released his grip on my hand and I wrapped my arms around him, holding on tight. If I could hold onto him tight enough maybe I could keep him forever. He seemed to have the same idea, as my breath shortened under his tight grasp.

This can’t work. This won’t work. I tried to repeat in my head. And yet I couldn’t let go. I couldn’t pull my mouth from his. Even without having sex it was one of the most intimate moments I’ve ever had with anyone.

He pulled away momentarily, and only centimetres from my face. I hiccupped. ‘What if I never see you again?’ I asked, my eyes leaking undesirably.

He ran his thumb under my eye, sweeping away the tears. ‘You will.’ He pressed his face back to mine and we kissed for another minute before he took another centimetre of distance and assured me in German that I would see him again.

I didn’t believe him, but I still kissed him back. The only thing that ran through my head was, I love you. Ich liebe dich. I love you. I couldn’t bring myself to be selfish enough to say it, though. We stopped kissing and he tightened his embrace, resting his head on my shoulder as I cried harder, wrapping my arms around his neck. I could feel him exhaling deeply into my chest and I swallowed hard, sobbing silently. He rolled over and I pivoted with him, burying my face into his chest as he quietly spoke to me in German, as one would whisper to a crying child. I felt about as helpless as a child, victim to not only geography, but circumstance.

I don’t remember him leaving. I remember wanting to ask him to stay but ignoring every urge to make things harder for either of us. I also have an ugly crying face, so I was eager for him to leave me to it.

The next morning he was leaving, and though I was unsure if I would see him before he left, I got a text asking me to come outside. I got up and stopped to face myself in the mirror. I looked as if I had been punched in the face. Both eyes swollen, I filled the basin with cold water and stuck my face into it until I had to breathe again. I wiped my face and put on makeup before walking outside. He was standing there and I walked up to him. He wrapped his arms around me.

‘Bis gleich.’ He whispered.

Though I didn’t believe him, I nodded, swallowing away tears that were trying to climb up through my chest and out of my eyes. ‘See you soon.’ I translated back to him in English, squeezing him closer to me. I don’t know how long we stood there, but I didn’t want it to end. I knew as soon as I let go he would be gone, possibly forever.

I love you. I love you. I love you. I thought, but let go instead of saying it.

He looked at me and exhaled deeply before wrapping his arms around me once more. ‘Bye.’ He said.

I watched him walk away. He didn’t turn to look at me again, but I was glad, seeing as I was probably an undesirable shade of red from holding back the tears that were waiting to come.

‘And that was that.’ I said to Millie, more than a few weeks later, her face a particular shade of shock. ‘I think I was crying more because we didn’t have sex than I was because he was leaving.’ She laughed. I loved Millie’s laugh, it was genuine, but because she also reacted to being nervous with laughter it came across as anxious sometimes, in the most endearing way possible. We had met the summer before I went to Oxbridge through mutual friends since she was already there and she had given me lots of advice on starting uni.

It had been almost two months since the incident and I hadn’t told anyone about it until my confession over a bottle of wine to Millie. ‘What about those two boys in London?’ She asked.

‘Which ones?’

‘Lad Boy’s friends.’

‘Ohh, right. Brix and Langdon. Well, it’s just – no.’ I said, matter-of-factly. She laughed again, sipping her wine. I started telling her about my last encounters with them, culminating with a conversation I had with Brix. ‘And then he said, all serious, “You challenge me.” as if that was suppose to impress me or something.’

Millie laughed. ‘I don’t even know what that means.’ She said.

‘Lad Boy said that he wants a girl that is going to “tame” him. I was like, I’m not a horse whisperer! I don’t want to “tame” someone.’

‘No.’ She agreed, shaking her head.

‘I don’t have time for these jedi mind tricks.’

She laughed again. Hanging out with Millie was always a self-esteem boost because she seems to laugh at everything I say. ‘I wish I had your problems. I seriously need to pull someone soon.’

‘When was the last time you pulled someone?’

She told me and I gawked. ‘What?!’

‘I’ve been busy!’ She said, trying to justify herself.

‘I’m never that busy! What have you been doing? Trying to end world hunger?’

‘I don’t know, I just got focused on other things.’

‘Well you need to refocus your priorities! Look, we’re going to this party on Saturday, there is undoubtedly going to be more guys than girls, so I will make it my personal mission to be your wingman.’

‘She laughed. ‘Okay.’

‘No, seriously. This is not okay. You are hot. You are single. There is no excuse.’

‘I guess.’

‘We will make this happen.’

‘Where’s the party anyway?’

Two nights later we were walking through Camden with Brix towards his mate’s house.

‘Who are these people?’ I asked.

‘Uni mates.’ Brix answered. He went to a different uni than us. ‘They’re from the rugby team.’ Millie and I gave each other a sly glance and I winked. She tried to stifle her nervous laughter.

We stopped at an off-licence to buy a bottle of rum and two bottles of Coke.

‘Ginger ale tastes good with rum.’ I said as an afterthought as we walked towards the party.

‘Ew.’ Brix said.

‘Don’t knock it ‘til you try it.’

‘Is that your motto?’ He asked, winking at me.

‘Hardly.’ I said, pulling my phone out to check the text I had heard come through awhile earlier.

Way bored. What are you doing? x

I called the sender.

‘Family holiday can’t be that dull.’

‘SO dull.’ Lad Boy moaned.

‘I’m having an ah-maz-ing time here in London.’

‘Doing what?’

‘Going to a party with Brix.’

‘Really?’ He asked, confused.

‘Yeah, your friends like me a lot more than they like you.’

‘I doubt that.’

‘Whatever, Trevor. Millie is here too.’

‘Ah, wicked. Tell her I say hi.’

‘Lad Boy says hi.’ I said to her.

‘Oh.’ She said, slightly confused for no particular reason. ‘Hello.’ She answered, waving her hand awkwardly at no one.

‘She says “Hello.” Now then, did you just call to bother me?’

‘You called me.’

‘Oh yeah. Well, I have to go. I’m very important, you know.’ I sighed. ‘Lots of very important engagements and such.’

‘Yeah right. I’ll talk to you later then.’

‘Bye-eee.’ I said and hung up.

We got to the party, which was essentially a flat whose front room had been emptied for dancing space. Brix walked in and greeted his mates, introducing us to the host, a hilarious boy who was quite clearly drunk already. Brix, Millie and I made our way to the kitchen to start mixing drinks and I turned around to be immediately faced with what I presumed to be one of the rugby players. Thirty seconds into our conversation I was bored.

I glanced around, Brix had obviously noticed the conversation, and its awkwardness, but seemed to be enjoying the show.

‘Sooo.’ I said, ‘What do you study?’

‘English.’

I internally rolled my eyes as I waited for a reciprocal question that would never come. Why isn’t he just walking away? I thought, annoyed that I was single-handedly carrying a conversation with the world’s dullest boy. ‘Nice one.’ I said over the music. He smiled and nodded. ‘Will you excuse me for just one moment? I need to …’ Fuck it. I thought, giving up on an excuse to leave as I turned and walked towards Brix. ‘Help me.’ I hissed.

He laughed. ‘Mate, that was the funniest thing I’ve ever seen.’

‘Glad you liked the show.’ I poured more rum into my cup and did a quick survey for ginger ale. There was none so I settled for Coke. ‘Where’s Millie?’ I asked, sipping my drink.

‘Over there.’ Brix said, nodding in the opposite direction.

I turned to see her being chatted up by a very fit rugby player. He had curly, longish hair and smiled as he watched her talk. She was oblivious to this, as she seemed to not look at him when she spoke, but the attraction between them was clear.

‘Who’s that?’ I asked.

Brix confirmed that it was a rugby player. ‘Does she like him?’

‘I assume so. Why would she talk to someone she doesn’t like?’

‘Well I don’t like you but I still talk to you.’ Brix said.

‘Ha. Ha.’ I said flatly as I watched Millie.

‘I’m just kidding.’ Brix admitted stupidly.

‘I know.’ I said, not looking away from the scene in front of me.

‘Do you want to dance?’ Brix asked.

This broke my trance and I turned to him. Smiling, I said, ‘Sure!’

I loved dancing with Brix, he was hilarious and we reverted to our arsehole dancing ways, pulling out moves that no one but us thought were socially appropriate. It didn’t matter, we were having a good time, and that was really all that I was concerned about. That, and making sure Millie pulled.

I noticed the rugby boy Millie had been talking to making a move for the toilet and I excused myself from the dance party to talk to her. ‘Miss Millie, how are things going?’

She laughed her actual nervous laugh – you can tell when she finds things amusing versus embarrassing because when it’s the latter her face turns red slightly. I smiled.

‘He’s quite nice.’

‘Quite nice looking.’ I said.

‘That too.’

‘So?’ I asked, smiling and raising my eyebrows.

‘I don’t know if he likes me!’ She said.

‘Millie.’ I said seriously. ‘He has spoken to you exclusively for the last hour. He. Likes. You.’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Well, I do. Go for it.’

‘Should I?’

‘Yes. And if you don’t we’re not friends!’

‘What?’

‘Nothing. Dumb joke. Just go for it.’

‘Hm, maybe.’

‘Do it!’ I felt like a cheerleader.

‘We’ll see.’ She said, frowning.

‘It. Will. Be. Fine.’ I reassured her.

Thirty minutes later I received a text.

Left with him, talk to you tomorrow x

I laughed.

‘What?’ Brix slurred.

‘Oh, nothing. Just Millie.’

‘Huh.’ He said, and then shook his head in a fashion that I assumed to mean that it was a dance move.

I laughed and we danced some more before deciding to leave. I looked at my watch. ‘Shit.’ I said.

‘Huh?’ He slurred.

‘I missed the last train home.’

‘Stay at mine!’ He offered, enthusiastically. Seeing my less than thrilled expression he said, ‘You can sleep on the couch … or in my bed.’ He couldn’t help but add the last bit and winked in the least suave way possible.

I laughed. ‘Okay. The couch would be nice.’

‘Okay!’ He said, about ten times as excitedly as he should have.

We walked to the bus stop and after boarding the double decker immediately fell asleep. I woke up after the bus had ceased forward progress, my head resting on Brix’s shoulder. I sat up and looked around. Brix was asleep so I shook him awake.

‘Hmm?’ He mumbled, opening his eyes.

‘Where are we?’

He frowned and surveyed the scene. ‘London.’ He said, confidently.

I rolled my eyes. ‘Come on.’

We exited the bus and I looked at the bus schedule to decipher which night trains would be coming through. Brix passed out in a nearby bed of grass. After fifteen minutes no bus had come. I looked around, having absolutely no idea where we were. I turned to where Brix was sleeping and walked to him, leaning over and grabbing him by the shoulders. ‘Wake … up!’ I said, shaking him between the words.

‘Hmm?’ He hummed as his eyes opened. He looked at me. ‘Oh. Hello.’ He said, smiling.

‘Get up.’

‘Okay.’ He complied, and I helped him up.

The kip seemed to have sobered him a bit as he looked around, scratching his head. ‘Where are we?’ He asked.

‘London.’ I said, sarcastically.

‘Seems so.’ He agreed, looking around and walking to the bus schedule. He exhaled deeply. ‘Taxi?’

‘Sure.’ I said, wanting to be anywhere but there.

I fell asleep in the taxi and woke up as Brix was gently leaning forward to pay the taxi driver before wrapping his arm around me and helping me out. We sleepily walked through the door and he led me to the sitting room. ‘Is this couch big enough?’

‘Whatever.’ I said, collapsing onto it.

He left and reappeared a minute later with a duvet which he placed over me. He leaned down in front of me. ‘Goodnight.’ He whispered. I groaned something incoherent and I could hear him laugh. He kissed me on the forehead and walked away.

I opened my eyes once I was certain he was gone. Sitting up on the couch, I leaned forwards to take my shoes off. As I rested my head back on the cushions I thought about Brix for a moment. He reminded me a lot of Dale. Very sweet, doting, loveable. Then I thought about what Lad Boy had told me about him and the wake of girls he had left in his search for a “challenging” woman. That woman would not be me.

I played out how the scenario would go in my head. I give in and ultimately instead of me being challenging I prove to be nothing more than the normal girl he’s use to. He gets bored and “phases” me out – a term he used with Lad Boy to describe the process by which he was trying to get rid of his current girlfriend. No thanks.

For whatever reason, I seem to pose a challenge to certain men when they meet me. It is perhaps because I see through most of the shit chat they have and often call them on it. If you’re searching for a challenge why don’t you just try training for a marathon? Relationships shouldn’t be challenging, they should be fun, and whilst friendships with most boys I know are fun, the idea of dating by their fickle and confusing rules seems like an absolute nightmare.

I have thus closed myself off to the idea of dating. It bores me. And as soon as I resolved not to date, it seemed as if my prospects multiplied exponentially. Most surprisingly, it’s with people I’ve already slept with. Because I know it will never work with them, they seem the least harmless to be honest. I’ve slept with them, I know the sex is decent but that the prospect of being a couple is nil, so what’s the harm in just doing what we do best every once in awhile?

I’m testing this theory out soon when I will be reunited with The Boy for our annual date and shag. It’s almost the anniversary of when we first met, so seems fitting.

What terrifies me most about people like Brix and Langdon is that I see so much of what I loved about my exes in them … and at the same time I see the faults of every single ex in them as well. Maybe it’s me. Maybe it’s the kind of boy I attract. Either way, I’m entirely too busy to give anyone a chance at the moment, and to be honest – I’m having more fun than I’ve ever had before. 

My current theme song. 

"I am a rock, I am an island 

...

And a rock feels no pain,

And an island never cries."