New flatmate comes with baggage. He is the vice captain administrator senior lieutenant social secretary of GLS BLOGS BLOGIQTS (catchy name) which is Edinburgh's finest society covering all alternative sexualities found apparently. Every year, a new letter is added to the title so that at the moment it covers:
Bisexuals
Lesbians
Gay
Intersexed
Queer
Transgendered
..people throughout the 'Burgh. Anyway, here was new flatmate at 10am prancing around in boxers, eating cereal, making sure to put most of the cereal firmly outwith the path between bowl and mouth in keeping with the cleanliness standards already established (see previous post). I, myself, am showering at this point, thinking I could have a nice leisurely breakfast of porridge in front of morning TV then perhaps practise my piano and then tackle the mystery cupboard which appears to be filled with old keyboards and cables. I emerge from the shower at 10:10am and am mildly surprised to find the flat filled with languid men in plaid and plucked eyebrows. An unsociable hour for house calls in a student flat.. I thought perhaps they'd dropped in to say hello and then they'd go. Or at least be offended by my exposed showered flesh and in embarrassment, realised they were intruding and leave but no. They look at me as if I'm trespassing on their patch and demand a cup of tea.
Hurrying to get ready, slightly pissed off that my sacred breakfast time has been thus disrupted, I eventually make tea for myself and concede to fill another cup for languid man no.1. An hour later, they're still there. All chatting in the living room, making themselves at home. Opening laptops and catching up on their gaydar and thesis writing. Realising my hopes of being able to practise my piano have been cruelly dashed, I leave to get a coffee elsewhere.
2 hours later. They're still there. They've multiplied. Lounging over every surface they're all bitching about others and cattily teasing each other. I try to sit in my own living room for a little bit but their open disdain at my owning a vagina is too much and as they pointedly look at each other whilst replying to my questions I get sick of this rudeness and retire to my box bedroom. They eventually leave at 6pm, taking their overdramatic stories and camp squealing with them but leaving in their wake a sea of mess in my (newly cleaned grrrr) living room and a kitchen filled with the remnants of a spontaneous feast of spag bol. Which, incidentally, is apprently better enjoyed when splashed about the floor, stove, surfaces and intriguingly, the vertical faces of cupboards. I thought gay men were supposed to be tidy! The only tidy thing about these guys were their eyebrows and manicures.
My gay best friend commiserated with me. He resolutely hates all the people in the BLGOKAUIJXT society as they're all "southern middle class w*kers" and unfortunately, I have to agree with him. I just really hope the flat doesn't become a drop in centre for all the lonely alternative lifestlye people in edinburgh in need of a good bitch and untidying party. Otherwise I may have to kick some alternative butt.
