I got very drunk last night. Drunk enough that L and I, walking from the taxi back to the flat, had to put our arms about each other and count, ‘hup, two, three, four’, putting our feet down carefully in time, in order to in any way approximate a straight line back to the flat. I also danced all night, flirted shamelessly with everyone, and looked pretty hot in my little black dress. At least I thought so – like I say I was drunk, so my judgement probably isn’t to be trusted. Although the flat seemed to agree, if you want to trust them any more than you can me… .
When we got home, K and L and I got into a conversation about who is living with whom next year. Of the girls in our flat I am the only one not living with the others next year – K, K, L and J are all living with two of the boys, M and J, and three other medics, in a house of nine, which seems to me to be madness. Anyway, at the time when all this was decided, about last November, they didn’t ask me. At the time I was hurt although I know I would probably have turned them down if they had asked me because I was already forming other plans and because their brand of exciteable twenty-four-hour party madness is tiring and sometimes I just want to relax and be a grumpy old bugger and for that to be fine and not cause for concern or resentment or anything. But I was hurt. They tried to make me feel included, but not terribly hard, and always at that point seemed closer to each other than any of them were to me. I felt insecure around them and always on my guard, criticised, judged.
I know now that that was just because I was depressed; I was paranoid and bound to see things in the worst possible light. What I didn’t realise until recently was that that was the reason they didn’t ask me to live with them – perfectly reasonably, they didn’t want to be having to ‘deal’ with me when they were trying to enjoy the whole university thing and get as much out of it as possible, and without A there they’d be in the firing line. At that point I was just getting worse and worse and I was just too much of a risk. And yet again, the fact that I was so ill as to be seen like that surprises me.
I should just get used to it, really.
The other thing that L and K said last night was how much they do love me and they do feel guilty for making a decision which they now think was ‘selfish’. But the main focus of all this was how much they love me and will miss me and how I am go to round to their house all the time, ‘just drop round, you’re always, always welcome’. Apparently even J was saying the same thing and I really really don’t know her as well as I know the others. So, right at the end, just before it’s too late, I finally feel accepted by my odd plastic flatmates and their mad, optimistic, naive ways.