Wednesday 30 April 2008
Things I like: Serendipity Big O-mometer: ****
Second mystery solved in a week, and second one solved by not me: Antony.
So D&C played football again at lunch yesterday, and we were lucky to escape with a draw against one of the res teams, The Clever Boys who are all from Smuts House. Smuts is the res on Upper Campus, one of the original twelve buildings built as the start of the University, and to win a place there to live in as an out-of-town student is very prestigious, reserved for the best and the brightest. Hence the team name of The Clever Boys, because jealousy makes us believe they're all smarmy little arseholes. We were looking forward to showing them a few tricks and striking a blow for the little guy.
We got drilled. They pulled our pants down and bum-fucked us, with no lube.
Fuck me, it was like The Sun vs the Snowman Army. How the hell we didn't lose that game like 13-0 I have no idea. No, actually I do -- the Gay Porn twins had a blinder; Cam outstanding in goal and Zack terrorising their left side. However, the rest of us kinda didn't quite bring our A-games out our kitbags. I got murdered in midfield to the point where I subbed myself off before I could do too much more damage; Paolo could not find touch up front and couldn't time any passes to Siya and his lethal left foot. Even with changes in and out we were hopeless. We managed a legitimate goal from some scrappy defending right at the end of the game, and we were given one earlier which the ref says went in that I know didn't -- their keeper does too; the side netting is missing on one of the goals and the ref reckons it went through but I know it sailed a few inches wide -- and they only managed to put two past us, somehow. We all know we got lucky with a 2-2 draw. Still, we'll take that point.
I had a prac afterwards, and when I was leaving it, this dude I've had my eye on for a bit was too. Perfectly timed, by Fate not me, and I was a little surprised when he made eye-contact and held the door open as I approached. I mumbled my thanks, trying very hard to telepathically tell my winkie to behave itself. He was wearing white linen pants and they're semi-see-through in the afternoon sunlight; I could make out some dull grey boxerbriefs quite easily and they set my heart all a-flutter. G_d, I sound like Emily Bronte.
And then he spoke to me! His voice doesn't sound anything like I imagined it; clearly a local accent (I thought he was from up-country, Joburg probably), and much softer and more tenor than the thumping and authoritative baritone I thought he had, and which I will admit I have had tell me to do very, very rude things in my fantasies. Looking good, right?
Even better: "You played football at lunch today." I nod. "You okes did well last week, but this time? I think you got lucky." I agree and allow myself what I hope is a self-deprecating but still suave and dashing wry grin. "It's Charley, right? I'm Antony." We shake hands.
You guessed it, folks, I am shaking hands with MM, who knows my name and also has been watching me play football. What else me-related has he been keeping tabs on, I wonder?
My recollection beyond that is little hazy. I'm sure whatever else we chatted about for the next couple minutes as we walked out of the building and halfway down Jammie steps before we went our separate ways will come to me at some point; hopefully before I see him again in class later today and he says hi again. The only bit I really do remember after that was wanking up a storm in the shower last night.
-C