no more!” Perhaps I’m starting to grow up.Perhaps this is where I truly begin the transition from youth to manhood – and maybe my friends haven’t quite got there yet. I might need to buy some aftershave.
“Guys, guys – I don’t see what the problem is, she’s just a girl! And how often have we talked about getting girls in on the Game?”
“The point is you should’ve asked us first.” Matt’s moral streak is suddenly asserting itself.
“Why? What’s the difference? Surely it’s going to make the Game better if we have some new blood.”
“Dude, you know the score; it’s the Game. We’re mates.” And now Beggsy’s joined the lynch mob. I can feel the foundations of my argument becoming unsteady. Ravi remains quiet and watchful.
IM: You’re in the wrong. Put your hands up and admit it.
Instead, I resort to distraction tactics. Less generous people might call it lying.
“But I didn’t actually invite her, she just sort of invited herself. And then I couldn’t exactly uninvite her, could I?”
“All you had to do was tell her you needed to clear it with us.”
“And what would you have said, Matt? ‘No’?”
“It doesn’t really matter, Archie. You’ve taken that option away, haven’t you?”
You can always tell when an argument’s starting to change up a gear – people start using each other’s names with pointed clarity and statements always seem to end in questions. These are the territorial displays of Geeks. Gorillas do it by beating their chests; stags lock horns; Geeks over-emphasize each other’s names and bring out the Great Swords of Rhetoric. The thing is, I’m in the wrong. I know I am, but I’ve gone too far to back down. And part of me can’t understand what the problem is.
IM: Part of you doesn’t want to understand what the problem is…
There’s a simmering silence, which is broken by Beggsy’s NATO Peacekeeping sensibilities. “Dude, you just needed to check it with us. It’s not like we would’ve said she’s not allowed.”
My argument fails in the face of my mate’s Vulcan-like logic. Like the straw house built by the First Little Pig, it simply blows away. However, this Little Pig’s not done yet; he has the whiff of the wolf about him and can huff and puff with the best of them.
IM: Don’t do it!
Too late.
“It’s not like you could anyway, Beggsy. It’s my house.”
Any free-standing structures built from straw, sticks or bricks should be instantly decimated. But I have thishorrible feeling, even as the words leap sneeringly from my mouth, that I’ve just done a big one on my own doorstep. Matt fixes me with eyes that have suddenly become unreadable.
“OK,” he says, nodding slowly. “Good. It’s your house. At least we know where we all stand.” And then, with a barely perceptible clench of his jaws, he turns briskly on his heel and walks away, something like determination in his stride. Ravi pauses for a second and then follows him.
“Aw, Du-ude!” This one conveys *Is disappointed*.
“Well… He was being stupid.”
IM: Do not pass “Go”. Do not collect two hundred pounds.
Beggsy remains obviously unconvinced, gently shaking his head.
“Dude. You’ve gotta sort this out.” By this point, we’re both staring at the same spot on the floor.
“I know…”
“Get him on the way home. Just say you’re sorry and it’ll be cool.”
“I know…But what about Sarah? I can’t just…you know…”
“Dude.” Conveys *Isn’t having any of it*.
Can’t argue with that. I sigh and follow the rest of the Year Nines down the corridor.
SIX
It goes without saying that Matt wasn’t at the school gates at hometime; he’d chosen a different route back to his house. Luckily, this allowed me to play my Righteous Indignation card with the rest of the gang. I started out with a disarming display of humility, followed by concern that Matt was all right. This worked
“Guys, guys – I don’t see what the problem is, she’s just a girl! And how often have we talked about getting girls in on the Game?”
“The point is you should’ve asked us first.” Matt’s moral streak is suddenly asserting itself.
“Why? What’s the difference? Surely it’s going to make the Game better if we have some new blood.”
“Dude, you know the score; it’s the Game. We’re mates.” And now Beggsy’s joined the lynch mob. I can feel the foundations of my argument becoming unsteady. Ravi remains quiet and watchful.
IM: You’re in the wrong. Put your hands up and admit it.
Instead, I resort to distraction tactics. Less generous people might call it lying.
“But I didn’t actually invite her, she just sort of invited herself. And then I couldn’t exactly uninvite her, could I?”
“All you had to do was tell her you needed to clear it with us.”
“And what would you have said, Matt? ‘No’?”
“It doesn’t really matter, Archie. You’ve taken that option away, haven’t you?”
You can always tell when an argument’s starting to change up a gear – people start using each other’s names with pointed clarity and statements always seem to end in questions. These are the territorial displays of Geeks. Gorillas do it by beating their chests; stags lock horns; Geeks over-emphasize each other’s names and bring out the Great Swords of Rhetoric. The thing is, I’m in the wrong. I know I am, but I’ve gone too far to back down. And part of me can’t understand what the problem is.
IM: Part of you doesn’t want to understand what the problem is…
There’s a simmering silence, which is broken by Beggsy’s NATO Peacekeeping sensibilities. “Dude, you just needed to check it with us. It’s not like we would’ve said she’s not allowed.”
My argument fails in the face of my mate’s Vulcan-like logic. Like the straw house built by the First Little Pig, it simply blows away. However, this Little Pig’s not done yet; he has the whiff of the wolf about him and can huff and puff with the best of them.
IM: Don’t do it!
Too late.
“It’s not like you could anyway, Beggsy. It’s my house.”
Any free-standing structures built from straw, sticks or bricks should be instantly decimated. But I have thishorrible feeling, even as the words leap sneeringly from my mouth, that I’ve just done a big one on my own doorstep. Matt fixes me with eyes that have suddenly become unreadable.
“OK,” he says, nodding slowly. “Good. It’s your house. At least we know where we all stand.” And then, with a barely perceptible clench of his jaws, he turns briskly on his heel and walks away, something like determination in his stride. Ravi pauses for a second and then follows him.
“Aw, Du-ude!” This one conveys *Is disappointed*.
“Well… He was being stupid.”
IM: Do not pass “Go”. Do not collect two hundred pounds.
Beggsy remains obviously unconvinced, gently shaking his head.
“Dude. You’ve gotta sort this out.” By this point, we’re both staring at the same spot on the floor.
“I know…”
“Get him on the way home. Just say you’re sorry and it’ll be cool.”
“I know…But what about Sarah? I can’t just…you know…”
“Dude.” Conveys *Isn’t having any of it*.
Can’t argue with that. I sigh and follow the rest of the Year Nines down the corridor.
SIX
It goes without saying that Matt wasn’t at the school gates at hometime; he’d chosen a different route back to his house. Luckily, this allowed me to play my Righteous Indignation card with the rest of the gang. I started out with a disarming display of humility, followed by concern that Matt was all right. This worked
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