“The words of a man who hasn't had a girlfriend for... how long?”
I overdo it on the wasabi to hide that my cheeks are turning a bright shade of lobster. “Oh, I don't know.”
Gary stares at me with big blank eyes that remind me off... well, you get the gist. This is the moment that he'll learn more about me than he has done over the past fourteen years. We've been inseparable like fish and chips since we were twelve, up to the point that teachers wouldn't know for sure which one of us was Terry and which was Gary. He used to do most of the talking, though. I'm an expert when it comes to his flings. I know everything about them, from the way they shave their seaweed to the crazy things they moan during intercourse. Sometimes I think I know more about his love life than he does. In fact, he seems to have the memory of a gold fish when it comes to women. One time, when we were in Fabric and there was this girl – off her face on fuck knows what – that kept following him around, until he told me “I think she fancies me, whaddaya think?” and I had to remind him he'd been there already – she was the one that put her fingers up his bum when she was about to come. "Are you sure?" he asked. "Sounds rank. Did I like it?"
This is the moment that my best friend will finally dive into the deep, intimate details my life, instead of wading through superficialities of employment and housing.
“You're not a virgin, are you?”
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