Madge

Nick called me excited about someone he’d met out drinking on the weekend.

“Her names Madge, and she’s cool.”

“Out drinking with a girl on a Saturday night?”

“Well, lovely boys attract lovely girls.” 

I always translated that as Nick saying, hot boys attract hot girls.

“Are you going to tell me her full name is Madonna?”

“No.”

“No, her name is Madge,” said Nick. “You’re odd sometimes.”

Her house always had a peculiar smell, now I recognise it as booze and fags.

“Sadly, are you going to tell me she is, what sixty nine?”

“No, thirty, she’s a scream…”

“Is that too much booze?”

“No, but we drank Brandy Crusta’s all night.”

“Jesus! Brandy cocktails.”

“Her favourite.”

“Expensive tastes.”

“And we smoked her menthol cigarettes 

“You?”

“She sneaked me puffs on her cigarette out in the smoking section.” 

“Smoking hot, hey?”

“You should try being nice, it suits you better.

“Oh, Nick?”

“We got legless and ended up back at my place playing backgammon.”

“Did you have fun?”

“She played like a shark, 

“She wiped the floor with you?”

“She encouraged us to bet. It makes life more interesting, Madge said.

“What? bet?”

“I lost my shirt.”

“You must have been pissed?”

“We ended up in our underwear…”

“Did you have your best jocks on?”

“Boys need good briefs to see them through life, Josh.”

“So that’s a no?” 

“She laughed and patted me on the arse, saying we’d have to go lingerie shopping together.”

“We ended up playing cubbies in my bed, before falling asleep together.”

“Oh my god, is it love?”

“I think it is?”

“How pissed did you get?”

“Legless.”

“You shouldn’t be allowed out unsupervised.”

“She even had the good sense to be gone in the morning, just a note on the kitchen table.”

“Gay 101.”

“I know,” said Nick.