We ended up at another party yesterday; Tuesday and all. We went shopping for clothes, and I had a hair-cut, and during the hair-cut Stephen rang and told us to come at nine, and we went. And it was a party in an incredibly small flat with about eleven-twelve people spread over two small rooms and a small closet-like kitchen.

About seven or eight of the guests were people from Mark and Stephen’s old sixth form school, and Mark felt relaxed enough to stay for a long while.

We spent most of the evening sitting six people in a three person sofa slaughtering or being slaughtered on the XBox. Sitting like this, there’s no way you can avoid physical contact with other people, and so over the smell of Axe and cheap perfume, you have this release of pheromones and alcohol that even a gay boy like me pick up on.

There is snogging under those circumstances, and drunken fumbles, and you do your best not to watch because under these circumstances, what Mark jokes about (as I told in the other post) isn’t true. I don’t really like to watch that.

So, dancing. Mark isn’t a dancer, and thus I have to do that on my own, and therefore I’m squished up against some female on the two by two feet ‘dance floor’, which in reality is a space next to the telly. We regularly moved in front of the telly, which drew protests from the people on the Xbox.

And then, it’s after midnight, and we’re on the threshold back home feeling both elated and deflated, and it’s good to be back home. I can think now that I’m not a good member of the party crowd. I enjoy leaving that circle too much, to retreat to our house and our space, and I don’t particularly miss it when I’m not indulging in it.

But, I can’t help wonder what would have happened if things had been different, if I hadn’t had Mark. Would I have felt forced to move on to the party scene? Would I have enjoyed it? Would I have become more like Stephen that seems to move further and further into that scene? Would hormones, desperation and boredom have made me a part of the scenery?

I don’t know, but I’m not keen to find out.