when there is so much swimming around up there

There is so much to write.

Yet, somehow, I don’t know what to write.

Maybe I’ll start from the first odd incident and end with the last.

I went on a Topdeck tour of Europe over the summer. Partly to escape Perth. And partly as a way of making the guy I was seeing wake up and smell the roses and admit his feelings. He did. Which was fantastic. But not the point. And complete off topic.

Anyway, I made some fantastic friends.

Brilliant ones even.

Or so I thought.

One of the boys lives here in Perth. He was in the nicest way possible a slut on our trip. He slept with almost every girl on the bus, and off. And got away with it. He was a lovely, friendly, easily likeable kind of guy. So it’s hard to hate him. Even now. 

One of my closest friends from the trip lives over in Canberra. We shared rooms, steaks, toilet bowls, money, clothes, socks and even a hatred of other people we shared the bus with. She was fantastic. We didn’t have to talk, but a look across a table could have us in stitches. We could fall asleep on each other and order each others food. We worked. And in all honesty I would have totally robbed a bank for her.

Reading over that I realise I’ve made her sound like the best boyfriend ever. Awkward. 


What I never knew was that she was the last in the long line of girls who ended up being bedded by King Joffrey Baratheon the resident player on the tour bus. To be fair. I had sort of threatened to throw her suitcase out the window if she did. So I can understand why she didn’t mention it. Until I was on the other side of the country to her. 

Back to the present. 


She decided to fly over to Perth to visit me. Or so I thought. 


Turns out through some awkward text messages between myself, herself and the skanky hoe himself they were shacking up. 



So I had to find out the dates she was visiting from the ginger hooker too be honest I also had to find out she was even visiting in the first place from him Not only that. But he then gave me times and days on which I had to “entertain” her until he was available to take her out, or keep her in. Of course they invited me to hang but I felt like a bit of an toad for sitting there while she dug her toes into his leg and he tried to slide is hands under her skinny leg jeans. They’d give each other the “I’ve-seen-you-naked” look across the table. Sat that little bit too close. And even made awkward bedroom comments right in front of me. 




Bit of a rant. 


But I feel really ripped off. Like my friendship was really a means to and end to get into his pants for a whole weekend. 

I would have appreciated the warning. 

At least. 


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