Prose: Excerpt, "The Age of Perfection"

Binty moved through the outskirts and into the heart of the party; as he passed, I overheard several people get dirty-minded; which I hope was a coincidence. It would be terrible to think that Binty no longer needed to speak in order to corrupt hearts and minds. I hung by his shoulder, checking for dandruff, just for the sake of giving myself something to focus on. There were so many things that bothered me about these partygoers that I knew I could never share with anyone; in his better moods, I would find Binty shared some of my attitudes, but given the preponderance of Binty-standard “desirables,” I did not expect to hold his attention for too long tonight. There was, of course, only one reason why I had allowed Binty to talk me into coming; and I estimated that I had only five minutes remaining to take advantage of it. The party-music was blaring loud-enough; I tore my eyes away from the dandruff and looked around for something to say. As when writing a lyric, I had tried to cultivate the ability of allowing my mind to wander enough to trip over something worth saying. It sometimes failed, particularly when fired before that something was ready. We were nearing the outside when something finally occurred to me, I can’t remember what, and I leaned in to say it; the music was so loud I had to lean in till I could smell him. Let’s say it was a remark about the recent spate of fashionable androgeny we were suffering through. Why is no-one happy to look like what they really are… It doesn’t matter, of course, what I said. I only care to remember the feeling of my breath on his ear, and how he had responded with a charming glint in his eye and a chuckle, and suddenly we were outside, a place where it was too windy to whisper, and where people could hear you talking a shoulder-length away. It was in conditions such as these that Binty was liable to talk to drunk women; of all the pointless things to do with women who are inebriated on a Saturday evening, this was by far the most pointless. Two such wandering minstrels, too-skinny models with gorgeous body images, approached and identified themselves as Kate and Kate 2, as if it was important, and conducted the following dialogue which I can vouch is word-accurate, because it nearly made me want to pull my eyeballs out and floss my teeth with the strings, but even that would probably not have pulled their attention from how good Binty looked with his peppering of stubble. So, their attempt at high conversation, complete strangers, walking up to Binty, went approximately:

“Kate and I were wondering if you were a good kisser.”

“What did you decide?"

“She thought not.”

Instead of excusing himself, as I begged him with my eyes to do, Binty encouraged them.

“Actually, it depends on who I’m kissing,” he said, and winked at me. If I thought that wink was some kind of attempt to include me in the conversation I would have vomited, but realistically, I don’t think Binty knew what he was doing when girls like this started to give him attention. He became Cliché Binty, a boring creature who commits flagrant crimes against the laws of interesting conversation, particularly in mating season, and is maddeningly rewarded for his efforts, which gives him no incentive to improve his schtick. I could see how this was going to pan out the minute these girls decided they only needed one name between them, yet I was helpless to make it go any quicker. I tried not to listen, but their voices were grating my brains into a fine powder. I must have been staring at Binty with my evil eye, because he thought I wanted to be introduced. I would have rather have these girls listed as an endangered species, but Binty had invited me, so I had to be polite.

“Ladies, this is my friend Charles.”

“Ladies, where?”

A Kate slapped me and laughed, and I found myself laughing, because I have no control over my laugh-reflex.

“Charles is the rudest man you’ll ever meet.”

“He sounds charming.”

I had resisted bestowing them with separate identities until I found myself succumbing to whatever gas it was they had secreted to make Binty uninteresting, and admitted to myself that Kate 2 found my utter disdain for her appealing, and that I found that an attractive quality. I would have loved her at first sight if I didn’t find her utterly ridiculous. The aim of parties, as I understood it, was to locate a sexual vacancy and fill it; and this theory was confirmed when Binty, the Kates and I retired to a greenhouse to set out the terms of our one-night engagement. The greenhouse was full of unlikely objects: a silver space-suit, a inappropriately positioned telescope that could only have been functioning as an overpriced garden gnome, both of which I suspected that Binty had planted there that afternoon in case he ran out of conversation at this crucial stage. Having known Binty for years, it took me no time to realize I had a part to play, and I was flattered to be asked to play it. The worst things I could do at this point would be to talk to Binty’s girl, or to distract them in any way from having sex. So I entered into a dangerous conversation: with a woman.

“You don’t like women?”

“Oh, I hardly know any, you’re the first, and you seem honest.”

My Kate laughed; which, despite myself, made both of us feel good.

“You’re the first man I’ve ever not wanted to have sex with.”

“I’m honoured.”

“Are you gay for Binty?” She said, though she didn’t know us as Binty and Charles, I remember, because we gave them fake names; the first step in any lasting relationship.

“No,” I said.

“We thought you had to be either gay for him or one of those fish that swim around with sharks.”

“I’m more like a porcupine who swims around with an ass.”

“I’m like Siamese twins minus the twin, and plus a friend with the same name.”

“I like your mouth.”

We kissed for a moment. I turned her flavour over my tongue.

“You taste like someone I’m going to regret tomorrow.”

“I don’t know why, cause you taste completely sober.”

“I’m capable of doing stupid things when I’m sober; aren’t you?”

“No, I prefer it with alcohol.”