Today I was in the kitchen with Dan and Mike walked in and began to excitedly punch him on the shoulder, saying, ‘Good night then, was it? Eh?’
And Dan started laughing as if they shared some exciting secret.
I’m nosy as all fuck, so I started whining, ‘What? What are you talking about?’ (I have an older brother, growing up I spent a lot of time left out, I don’t like it).
‘You’re not allowed to know. Me and Dan talk about things, secret things,’ said Mike, with that expression kids get when they’ve found something, but it’s theirs and they don’t want you to see it.
‘What things? Why don’t you tell me?’ I asked, because I have no real dignity.
‘Man things,’ said Mike smugly.
We all went outside and sat in our new bench area, but Mike hadn’t finished gloating, he wanted to make sure Jessica (who was sitting out there, happily smoking a cigarette) understood too.
‘See, you think that the communication ends at four when we all go home, but me and Dan, we carry on, that’s just the beginning.’
‘Carry on what?’ said Jessica, politely feigning interest.
‘Man things,’ said Mike, again, proudly.
‘Uh huh,’ said Jessica (she’s so much cooler than me)
‘But what are man things?’ I asked.
‘You know, manly,’ said Mike.
‘Tell me!’ I wailed.
‘Well, for a start we talk on WhatsApp,’ said Mike.
‘WhatsApp?’ I said, this wasn’t quite the wrestling-pigs-and-smashing-cars manly thing I’d imagined. ‘What about?’
‘We send each other selfies!’ said Mike.
‘Selfies,’ I repeat.
‘Yeah, Dan will tell me he’s going out, and then he’ll send me a picture of the shirt he’s wearing and ask me if it looks good.’
‘So you WhatsApp each other pictures of your outfits?’ I ask. ‘That’s your manly thing?’
‘And Mike sends me back pictures of his clothes too,’ added Dan, who’d been chuckling quite a bit, ‘look!’ and held up his phone that showed Mike in a flower patterned shirt and an inept duck face.
‘See?’ said Mike. ‘Man things!’
I think he may be trolling me.
Word of the day: phallocrat – one who assumes the naturality of male dominance
inkbiotic 