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Taking a dip or trying to and failing to cajole a shag out of girls on MSN

by Flashy 

Posted: 29 April 2005
Word Count: 798
Summary: I sometimes wonder if i am completely bonkers. This is entire fiction, every last word of it. Taking a dip or trying to and failing to cajole a shag out of girls on MSN who get very drunk at discos.

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This piece and/or subsequent comments may contain strong language.

I’m talking…typing to her again on MSN.

“No chance then?” I say hiding my disappointment.

“Not a chance in hell babe,” you say in that cocky cold cruel flippant matter of fact sort of way.

“Oh,” I say.

“Well, were like chalk and cheese mate… you and me,” you say.

“And am I the cheese?” I say.

“We’re WAAAAAAAY too different you and me, it just wouldn’t work out.” You say.

“Well I suppose you must be right, you’d know more about this sort of thing than me.” I say.

“And anyway, I’m off down the Pub disco in a Mo, to get very, very drunk and try and pull a hunk, but don’t you worry babe there are plenty more fish in the sea, you’ll see.” You say.

“Fish in the sea?” I say, “Oh well have a nice evening.” I say.

“But I’m not going just yet.” You say. “Don’t you want me to stay?” You say.

But my mind is off and racing away sailing over deep dangerous mysterious oceans thinking about the lots of lonely fish inhabiting the dark blue cruel seas, and I’m thinking what use is that phrase to me. I mean there are plenty of bugs in the sky and birds in the trees…so? What is this perpetual infatuation with comparing your potential soul mate with a cold wet slimy fish that lives in the sea?

So life, love is it like life in an ocean?

The fish are you and I… yes? You’re a Swordfish and I’m a Barracuda is that kind of what you mean? Is this an underwater equivalent of chalk and cheese?

But no I’m not a Barracuda, and if I were a fish…well I think I would be something like a squid, but that’s not really a fish is it? And that’s one problem you see, there’s a big grey area about what is and what is not a fish, a lot of in-between thingies live in the sea…so if I went fishing for love in the sea so to speak and I’ve decided I’m not a squid…I’m a Cod, a Herring or a Mackerel then I would definitely want to come home with a fish the same as me…well I’m not a pervert am I God forbid, no that’s not me.

And as for you being a Swordfish, well that was the first fish that jumped in my head, I’ve seen your picture on MSN and I would say you’re more of a Halibut or a Brill…no, no a Halibut it is because like i say I’ve seen your picture and you’re definitely not that Brill.

And you say, ‘We’re WAAAAAAY too different,’ you and I, suggesting that certain fish don’t mix and match which is true. But again I’m thinking we’re nothing like bloody fish… I mean next door to me Mr Jones would be a giant dangerous Moray eel and Mrs Jones with the deepest respect in the world would be a great big fat white pasty skinned Beluga, and they have five kids? So do you see? But then again eels and whales are they fish?


Anyway meanwhile back in the ocean, I’m wondering whether I should dip my toe in this dangerous love sea. On top the surface is tranquil and serene yes, but it’s the layers and undercurrents underneath that make it so, so dangerous for people like me.


And that’s it!!! I’ve just a realised I’m a Flounder, a big soppy flapping wet fish sucking panic stricken for air, dying slowly high up on dry land…a big, big scared fish that never learned to swim.

So maybe you might have something in this idea, that people are comparable to fish in the sea.

And i get so lost and deep in thought when i think of things like this, that i barely hear that familiar alert tinkle and I do look at the screen, and I’m back to cold reality on MSN.Oh it appears I drifted off on a really big one there because it seems you had quite a lot to say.

“OI!!!! You.” You say.

“Is anyone there?” You say.

“Anybody at all?” You say.


“In the huff are we?” You say.

“OOOOEEEERRRR!!!!” You say.

“Want to see a picture of my bum?” You say.

“Well fuck you then.” You say.

“Weirdo.” You say.

“See YA then hon XXX...same time tomorrow night sweetheart?” You say.

And off line and into the cold night you go, and i realise... i don't even know you.

And I never will understand why I’m so attracted to girls who get very drunk at discos.

And I’ll never understand why they aren’t attracted towards me.

I wonder if it’s because I have a really short attention span?

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