Friday 28 September 2012

I certainly learned the lesson of not doing any exercise for a couple of weeks and then playing football without so much as a stretch. My fucking legs felt like someone had lived not particularly healthily on then for 34 years and then ran around of them, including going over on both of the ankles. Just like that.

I was helped to feel young (I wasn’t, I was feeling hold; example one of sarcasm in this paragraph; will there be more? Who knows. Keeping you on your toes) by going out for my lunch. I work in the middle of the University in Manchester you see. I have been on holiday and then not been out for my lunch since coming back. In the meantime the students have come back. Rather than reiterate the ‘don’t students look very young?’ thing people insist on rolling out as they get older I will say this: students aren’t looking younger, they look generally 18-22. I am just a generation away from that. That said they do look proper young, 18-year-olds these days are about 14. That makes me a brain-wish-age-confusion-paedophile (of sorts).

As well as an opportunity for trotting out tired cliches about students looking younger, September is also a time to shake your heads at the freshers couples. Two eighteen-year-olds absolutely in love with each other and not afraid to show it by touching each other. There is always one who looks slightly more uncomfortable (as in not used to being in a couple) as they laugh at things but try to act as though holding a girl’s hand isn’t the best thing they have ever done (and it is normally the lads who fulfill this role in the relationship – but it is not always them).

I’m not even annoyed by them. OK, I am annoyed by them, but just because they are annoying. Not because I am jealous or bitter. I so would have been in their shoes at University. Fortunately for me I was found universally grotesque by every woman I met at University. Fortunately? Why, yes. It is definitely better that I get to have a go at freshers couples now – and people not be able to throw it back in my face by saying they bet I was the same – than have had some happiness for a moment when I was at university. Definitely. I had to wait until all the attractive and intelligent women had lost their confidence and self-esteem for one reason or another before I would be in with a chance. And even then I would still struggle.

So, no, I am not jealous of these fucking dickwings. I am annoyed that they are morons (males and females). I am confused by how low their trousers are worn (males). I am aroused by their young bodies (both). But I am not jealous. I just wish they went somewhere else for their dinners. I am quite sure all the local food-selling establishments would choose me other Europe’s largest student body as well*.

*I don’t think that is the case anymore. I think it used to be a thing, though. I think the figures included Salford University – and they don’t use the Greggs near my work. They use one in Salford (near the University).

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