Options April 10, 2006Posted by BiB in Uncategorized.
Tags: friends, suicide
Right, so pushy German friend is in town. Pushy German friend used to live in Berlin. Pushy German friend now lives in S_, rather a long way from Berlin (though still in Germany). PGf wants, while he is in town, for me to a) spend every second having hijinks with him or b) spend every second that we’re not having hijinks on the phone to him discussing how we’re next going to get round to having hijinks. I’m not anti-hijink, strictly. But there’s talk of the hijinks being extended into a phase 2.
Since PGf left the Hauptstadt for S_, he has spent most of the time on the phone to me asking me to come and visit. A reasonable enough request. But to a miserable anti-social old Wichser like me? But I have always fully intended to eventually plan to get round to going at some point or other. PGf thinks that time should be NOW, this weekend. Personally, I think that’s overdoing the sociability factor. PGf being in Berlin and then me going back with him to S_ for extended hijinks? Un peu trop.
OK, not the world’s worst dilemma. Unless you’re me. And barking. And, as discussed at various times in the course of this blog’s life, not THAT rich and don’t fancy spending quite an oodle of cash on a train trip to a not earth-shatteringly exciting town to spend time with PGf and his friends, none of whom I know (but who would no doubt be trying to organise my life for me, pushily, within minutes) and who are all, if I have gleaned correctly, 19-year-old frat boys. Though this would no doubt provide moments of eye-pleasure, the thought of talking about fencing (I mean with epées, not what you shut the neighbours out with) and having burping competitions, in German, appeals little. And it would be a new weapon in the Russian’s armaments to bring up in any future ‘conversation’ about money. (New Zealand’s got legs, let me tell you.) And, anyway, I don’t want to go.
So what do I do? What I WANT to do, and should do if I wasn’t English, was capable of saying no, standing up to pGfs etc. is say, “Sorry, pGf, I don’t want to spend a lot of money (that would get me and the Russian to Paris for a weekend) (though I wouldn’t say that bit) (well, I won’t say any of it) on a (long) weekend in S_. I’ve got work to do. It’s an extravagance I can’t afford. It will be a bone of contention at BiB Towers for ever and a day. I have no social interest whatsoever in 19-year-old strangers. And I like being at home, actually.” But I won’t say any of that. So what do I do?
I have a number of options, as I see it. Your advice is sought, natch.
1) Commit suicide. Seems a bit drastic for the sake of a few days in the provinces.
2) Fly to London, today, for a break. Hm, rather defeats the saving-money and having-to-work principle. Plus, I’ve checked Easyjet and it costs too much.
3) Hide under the bed till it all blows over. The Russian might not tolerate it. And there’s not much room to work under there.
4) Send an SMS to pGf saying, “Sorry, no,” then switch off my phone in a hurry before he can answer or ring and hide under the bed till it all blows over. Might raise stress levels.
5) 4) but without the hiding-under-the-bed part. Dunno.
6) Feign illness. Has served me well in the past.
7) Make myself ill. Dreary.
8) Go to S_ for three or four days, make the social effort, have a bearable time, come back and be livid with myself for having gone. Hm.
9) Go and have a nice time and live happily ever after and wonder what all the fuss was about. Unlikely.
10) Write an incredibly fraught and gut-wrenching SMS to pGf saying that, for various reasons, I find our friendship too difficult and I can never see you again. Touch drama-queenish, and not (really) true.
11) Become a monk. This is my favoured option, actually. But I don’t believe in god.
So your wise words are sought. How can I not go to S_ and satisfy my anti-social desires?