This blog is made of stardust, it is the remains of numerous other starts at writing. One of these was Angry Fairytales, an attempt to use my creative faculties to get me out of a funk. This was caused by a combination of two factors. A Princess and a Nobber. The Princess I have resolved my issues with, but I still have never dealt with the other party.
A few people read this blog, some of those I know (Hello) and some I don’t (Hello as well), but I am pretty sure about those who never pay these missives any mind. It is not as though I am speaking to them anyway, what though if I was? What would I want to say to you?
If when you have read this you would like to hear about Mrs G’s similarly friend relates woes then you can check out her tale at Across the Wide Ocean.
Firstly and explanation of the name, well you’ll understand soon but a lexicographical explanation on the word. This is from the fantastic Professor Brian Cox who described those going crazy over 2012’s Mayan apocalypse as “nobbers” and it kind of stuck.
So Nobber, we were friends and had been for a long time since we met at university. After the fire that burnt down our original Halls of Residence, and meant I no longer had to share with the right-wing sports hating evangelist I had been put with. Seriously, they had paired us up sharing rooms based on the passport photo we submitted, so you can imagine how well I, a left-wing sports loving atheist, would get on with my roommate.
He insisted on going to sleep to either the music from Braveheart or Saving Private Ryan. Nobber we got on really well and ended up sharing when placed in our new rooms.
After university you went on some worldwide travels but then returned to Coventry and a job at the same company as me. It was 2003, and I had just moved out into a two bed flat so it seemed logical for you to rent out my spare room and that’s how it was for the next few years. This was the golden days of our friendship, hours spent playing Pro Evolution Soccer and (mostly) having fun. Eventually you moved out to live with your, then, girlfriend.
As much as I liked a gaming partner on hand it was also nice to have my own space, but we were still friends. I went over and helped you move in and decorate, we still had fun and even had holidays together.
I remember washing up in the kitchen one Saturday when I saw you and her coming up for an unannounced visit. You had come to tell me that you were getting married, and more than that you wanted me to be best man. Up to that point I had never been so honoured, I accepted. That was the last time I would be happy to help.
The next year was hell, a number of things were happening in my life that caused a spiral I couldn’t get out of. I moved house, I had problems in my job and private life and was unable to cope.
Instead I was being asked to put my life aside for twelve months. My needs and wants were subservient to your wedding and it didn’t matter how I felt. I could do a speech but it would be vetted first, I could move home but it should not interfere with your happy day. I had 90 days to be in a relationship with someone or I was not entitled to a “+1”.
I had to give up body and soul to be able to help you. If I had a call to arms then I should drop everything to come running. I even was expected to forgo the Battlestar Galactica Finale for another suit fitting. Oh, and don’t get fat I was told, because it will cost extra to adjust the trousers.
One day you came over and played some computer games then went home. The next day I had an email demoting me to “joint” best man.
Still as joint best man I had jobs to do, as in effect I was Assistant to the Best Man. Still what little help I could offer was not enough so a few weeks later I had another visit from you. We played some more Pro Evo Soccer and again you left to go home to write me an email telling me that I needn’t worry about any of my best man duties as I was now an usher.
I could be the sad sack that was casually tossed aside. At least all I had to do now was point people to seats, sit by my own on a table sans plus une, and feel even worse about myself and my complete lack of self-confidence. Things were looking up indeed.
This would be a good place to stop Nobber, but then plenty of stories have those perfect moments to finish and then keep going. Like the Lord of the Rings movie I’ve still got a hundred goodbyes to go.
Like Scrooge I had time for one more visit, and this was as deadly as his Christmas haunting. One last time The Nobber came to visit, one last time we played Pro Evo Soccer, one last time he went home to cowardly to tell me what he had come for, one last time he wrote an email.
I was still a guest, I should be glad to know
I’m afraid if you were looking for me to be your friend then I’m sorry, I was busy falling apart and you were breaking me. Since then I haven’t heard a peep from you, until I met you by fluke in a shopping centre. You were happy with your wife and children and I with mine. We exchanged a few awkward pleasantries and headed off in our various ways.
Yet you see all this, the words on this blog, even the whole existence of Geek Ergo Sum is down to you. My wife, my children, you played a part in that. Without any of this I may have been the casual acquaintance without a +1 for life. I would be sat still playing Pro Evo Soccer by myself instead of having the great life I do. Know this, none of it is for you now.
Maybe apart from this post.
Hope your life is okay, I’m not going to wish ill on you but I’m not going to splash you with best wishes.
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