It’s a bit ironic that we put so much emphasis on conversation when it all leads to a sole physical. My mind ends up rolling back and forth and I can only call myself a groupie at this point. At this point. It feels odd, just like on bad days you wait for everything to go away miraculously somehow, it so happens that when good things happen you have no explanation for them either.
And now it’s like I don’t even have time to hyperventilate, all I can do is try and relax in the moment. I can’t even recall what we were even talking about, besides seeing him outside the gig much later, when everyone had left. It was a touch job to wait with all of the fangirls which pretty much keep squealing Alex’s name for hours on end. The difference was that I figured that even standing in the back yet with all supplies such as water was smarter as they would all, the monkeys, head out, sign, go back in, get hammered and walk out again hours later when everyone would flee and they had enough alcohol to forget the gig.
By the end of it, for some reason people think there’s some sort of virtue, but in reality I just want to get laid by Alex Turner and that’s where it all leads to really, I think the only nod I got on my end was Matt staring at me as me and Alex were discussing the new album, that for some reason neither of us could shut up and it’s that moment when all of your skin is stretched and electrified along with the combination of Matt’s stare that maybe I had been doing something right.
It takes a flicker of trust in someone else’s eyes to know you’re doing everything right, because after all, any moron can start talking about the album and get a vinyl signed or something, but it ends up that the same syllables said to someone else will cause a different reaction in you.
Maybe it’s the eyeliner, how it looks on me, maybe it’s the tight pants or that I look queer for a change, which is a wild goose chase in guessing, but we’ve all got to try and get into someone’s pants for a change than our own.
I look at his slicked back hair and I preferred him younger with the quiff, but it’s surely nothing for me to brag about and I just keep my mouth shut as he slowly signs the CD (vinyl was too big to carry). But it’s really something within us which makes us walk up to people on the first day of school to actually talk to and even hook up even later. The rest of the band are already slowly drifting off and I presume they have their own course of actions where to even go to, which would be excluding me, unless I speak out.
“Is it okay if I invite you for a pint or something?” I ask Alex and that’s when he just fixes his eyes on me and I don’t even pay attention to what would the other band members reply to any groupie request, all I’m doing is staring into an older dog’s eyes and waiting for a reaction. He hands me the album back, nodding.
“Yeah, sure, why not?” And that’s when the stars align, the moment which you’ll tattoo on your wrist and wonder what the hell was wrong with you that you could even wonder that something could’ve gone wrong since the horoscope did indeed mean that everything would go the way you wanted, as it was simply an action of picking up the Metro in the morning, riding the bus around to somehow fall asleep and dreaming of an applause.
In a split second you can die or be reborn, technically a second can mean anything.
We end up departing from the rest of the band, which means more than anything that I’ve succeeded and I can only pray from now that it’s truly because he’s at least queer enough for me to lay in bed with him, as we walk past the dark streets dipped heavily in the night, holding only dimmed lights which hold peak of sleep for many now. But then everything comes out at night and we fool ourselves to believe that it’s safer to wonder when no one is out even if you can be anonymous in a crowd. And every single problem will come back like a pendulum, like disappointing parents who think that men are created to breed and if that moment doesn’t come, then all is wasted.
I try to wash that off, like I would in the morning with foam and it’s hard not to think of what happens to everyone’s mouth to say such things when you’re about to fuck if lucky.
I just recall drinking not because I’m thirsty, but because my tongue keeps trailing on and on, how much his music had meant to me since I was small, that I recall how my boyfriend had tried to get me into Arctic Monkeys but it just wasn’t my cup of tea when he would make out with me under the bleachers and other girls were hand in hand over the bleachers and introduced to his relatives. That all would come and go, but I’d always be the one pinned down to the bed and truly desired. And that had caused me to drink even more as he would watch me, amused that I had somehow ended up nagging about my life and so it happened that the band didn’t stick to me until we had broken up-
A shot of tequila down my throat
And I wanted to recall how was it to be a teenager again and I had tried Favourite Worst Nightmare again, because I had felt that I had missed something and it ended up being the right break up record I had needed. And he had listened to the things even I would not confess to myself-
A shot of tequila down my throat again, reminding me of those tequila and floor jokes-
It slices my insides that I end up coughing.
“I went through a rough break up as well-”
“Yeah, y-you kind of state that.” I say, nearly hiccuping and I can feel my feet slowly give in, even as I’m sitting, but he just keeps looking at me and all I can think of is how come he’s not drinking enough, and I seem to be.
“So, I’m happy that it had helped you with your boyfriend.” Alex had smiled and his hair was already starting to get out of place and I am drunk enough to look a bit lower than where his eyes are and to desire him somehow again. I’ve desired him enough in the bedroom, spinning all the records and muffling my cries of finishing against the pillow to be padded later on to the walls, to make sure my mom wouldn’t hear. He reminded me of everything I could’ve been.
“Yeah, I wish you’d help with my next boyfriend, too.” I say and I wonder how come words still come out of my mouth and I feel brave, leaning a bit closer across the table. How did we even get here?
“I’m a bit older, actually-” Maybe the alcohol got to him as well.
“Who said you can’t be my daddy or whatever?” I don’t think alcohol will cut it now, I start raiding my jeans for my box of cigarettes, but my hands don’t necessarily go in my pockets. I find them after crumbling them out of my jeans. “Y-you’re rich and all-”
“I’m pretty sure you’d sleep with me anyway.” He mocks me and I light the cigarette, while wobbling. I’m hard as well.
“Yeah, but think of the age-”
“I didn’t decline. I’ll be your daddy-”
“I always thought the term was sugar daddy.” I chew on the cigarette, inhaling and trying to do a ring. “Since you’ll be -”
At this point as usual I have no title, so bear with me xD
The idea came from the fact that Jazz (the-age-of-the-shadow-monkeys) got a prompt regarding making Miles Alex's sugar daddy and then that ended up with me discussing it with Callie how I kind of wanted something reverse, because I'm a bit too vers sometimes I guess xD and I just couldn't get that idea out of my head, so I pretty much talked to both and ended up writing it xD
I just had the imagery of Miles going after musician Al and that just really stuck to me, kind of groupie-esque and then to escalate really.
I've been struggling with writing due to my anxiety and it just keeps going round and round in my head, so that's why I really wanted to have this chapter out because I really worked hard and bit myself down to hold the anxiety and pretty much had to repeat that it's not bad, that it will be liked, hopefully, if to strictly speak honestly. This backstory is quite hard to squeeze out, even if it's slowly loosening me and it's easier.
I guess a big inspiration was just meeting The Kills back in the day and just that overwhelming feeling of actually meeting Jamie Hince, who I admire to the core. I didn't meet after a gig though xD this was just me musing out loud
In general I have awful self-esteem and I kind of start projecting on myself from what I see, how attraction builds up in other people and try to understand that the same works with people which like me as well, that's where the scene takes its roots from.
Also life ends up throwing good things at you with no explanation and that's how they feel, illogical.
I get scared of being repetitive, so I'm sorry if the backstory is shorter. I was musing on the whole debate since it's the biggest argument against homosexuality which I grew up with, which was frankly that 'they can't reproduce' and that was the catastrophe of it all and I recalled the whole Volkova speech of "men are born to breed" and that kind of gave that sentence to life here.
The whole boyfriend being into Arctic Monkeys was something I had and I kind of went in depth with that and how I had been shown FWN which is actually my favourite album now, really. It's quite hard to step over memories at first, but then it's as if it's given a harsher, brighter glow because you defeated it really.
My mind goes crystal clear when I'm drunk and daring.
I hope you enjoyed it and if you did, please tell me so because I'm not in the best of places right now.