Nothing Else Matters

Posted: November 23, 2010 in graffiti living
Tags: ,

Metal Horns

I’m sat drinking Yerba Mate – my favourite ‘healthy’ tea, that I love to drink when I write – which I’ve just discovered according to some studies is equivalent to smoking a pack of cigarettes a day. This makes me laugh, as I don’t smoke; but I’m still drinking and I’m still writing, as I’ve had a dream that I want to share with you. And nothing else matters.

I dreamt that a couple of my friends (who don’t exist) were about to leave a party – a beautiful, intelligent, smart, and funny girl, and her stupid arse of a boyfriend that she doggedly adored. Both were exceptionally drunk, and getting ready to go home with a third person in tow – Robbie Williams, who the girl had fancied for years.

The couple had the typical joke agreement among couples, that should they ever get the chance to sleep with the celebrity of their dreams, they could do so without fear of recrimination; so long as it was a threesome or the partner got to watch. Robbie Williams had always been the girl’s pick, they’d bumped into him at the party, and at the girl’s insistence, they were going to go through with it. The boyfriend was nonplussed, and only about 70-80% convinced that it was a good idea. They’d had a fight as a result, and there was still a little tension between them. As as much as the guy wanted to believe otherwise, she was going to go through with it whether he agreed to it or not. And it was something they would both regret in the morning.

Robbie Williams had charmed most of their friends, but I’d been rude to him all evening. We were still at the party after hours, and the song ‘Nothing Else Matters‘ by Metallica played in the background. The girl shouted at her boyfriend for getting even more drunk and trying to go back on their deal. She said that it was her consent to give, and her decision that counted. So, by the end of the night, the girl was all set to sleep with the celebrity ‘man of her dreams’ in front of her idiot boyfriend ‘man of her dreams’, who was all set to vomit and pass out in the nearest available corner.

I’m close friends with the girl, and probably a little in love with her myself; as is everyone that knows her. As I bid them goodnight, I got to speak with her alone. She’d asked for my advice. I gave her a hug and told her not to do anything that she’d regret. Not judging either way, just don’t do anything that you’d hate yourself for in the morning. There’d always been a bit of sexual chemistry between us, and when I gave her another hug and a kiss on the cheek, she deliberately kissed me on the mouth. “Nothing that I’ll regret in the morning,” she said.

I said that her idiot boyfriend was very lucky, but still an idiot. She laughed, and said goodnight. I didn’t plan to have a similar heart to heart with her boyfriend or saying anything to anyone else, but Robbie Williams approached me as I was on my way outside. For some reason he wanted to know what I thought about what they were doing.

I tried to dismiss the question, and said something like, she’s all yours; it’s up to you what you do about it. But he wouldn’t let the matter drop until I told him exactly what I thought. I reiterated that it wasn’t my business, but to make sure that she didn’t do anything she’d regret. And to make her feel loved and special, because she was. I said that she’s beautiful, smart, and funny, and that if he knew her at all, he’d fall for her too. That although her boyfriend was a complete dick, he loved her and would do anything to make her happy. And so everybody around here felt the same way about him – that if she loved him and he’d do anything for her, then we guessed that he was ok.

We got into a deep conversation about fame. I said that for Robbie to have done so much and pushed so hard, he must himself have a deep need to be loved, and that there must be a hole inside of him. “Takes one to know one,” he said. I said, “You have the adoration and adulation of millions, and yet I wonder if it even makes a dint. What does it take to fill that hole? Sex doesn’t do it. Drugs doesn’t do it. So, what will? Fucking this girl in front of her boyfriend? Maybe. Maybe not. But, what if it’s what we do for others? What it that’s the only thing that can fill the hole, even just a little bit?”

He considered this as I put on my coat. It was cold outside, and we both realised that we’d been stood in the street talking for a long time. I said, “Maybe making other people feel loved is what you do best; and that’s what made you so loved in the first place? We fill the hole by doing for others what we can’t always do for ourselves. And nothing else matters.”

So, I went home with a pat on the back from Robbie and a kiss from the girl. The three of them went home together in a taxi, and went straight upstairs. The girl flopped down on the bed. Her boyfriend collapsed in the corner of the bedroom. Robbie Williams stood over the bed and promised the girl the night of her life. He sang to her all night, and serenaded her with the song ‘Nothing Else Matters’ by Metallica. The boyfriend gave a drunken heavy metal ‘sign of the horns’ gesture with the fingers of his left hand, before he passed out on the floor.


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