University Crush

Entry 3 - Gothic regrets

UNIVERSITY CRUSH

by Charlotte Kymberley
Imagine an alternative Bridget Jones. Now welcome to University Crush.

Leli Hetheridge is a college-based would-be uber-goddess flirting with life, lesbianism, shitty phone sex, worse drugs, 'sleep with your best friend' dilemnas and more.

Life doesn't have to be this hard, but isn't it more fun when it is? Read the new installment every wednesday...

New to UNIVERSITY CRUSH? Read it from the beginning...

My eyes are refusing to open. I'm aware that I'm in a bed, but where and with whom, at this precise moment in time, I must admit I am unawares. And I don't think I want to know either.

Have you ever woken up in a stranger's bed still half-cut from the previous evening? Have you ever woken up in any bed and have memories and flashbacks pummelling your weary mind from every direction? Have you ever woke up and felt like the world is coming to an end before your eyes are even open?

If you haven't, or even if you have,take a tip from me and:

1) Don't drink copious amounts of alcohol

2) Don't take drugs (It's awfully true what your mother tells you. In fact, scrap that, parents, schools and the powers that be lay you with the heavily-edited version, and if you think that what they say is bad, compare Angel Delight with sprinkles on top as a description of the dangers of drugs that the Government illustrates for us and then take a big stinking turd as the truth, laced with arsenic.) Although, on the upside, I did escape a grisly death. Although, on the downside, a grisly death may have the better option, considering what's coming back to me now...

3) Don't have sex with your friend from University

4) Especially if said University chum is a woman

The sounds of my Nokia's ring tone shocks my eyes open and I find myself alone. Now that's a good thing, I was worried someone would be in my bed. Beep Beeeeeeep. I have a message.

"Wot time we mting in twn 2day babe? Tb luv CC x"

Shit, I forgot. I glance at my watch - which still has the remnants of silver glitter on it - and see that its nearly 9am! I better get up. I don't feel too bad physically but I do feel terrible emotionally. What have I done? I feel dirty, I feel disgusted with myself, and I know I'm going to feel worse as memory returns because most of it I can't even properly remember.

So much for the new improved Leli. Hello to depraved, common, stupid, sluttish Leli. How can I ever face anyone after last night?

I need a bath, I need to get clean and I need to rethink my life. Again.

1pm

I make my way into town late, as usual, to meet my friend Celia. The morning has been spent lounging on the sofa alone (how rare it is to have the house to oneself) watching Richard and Judy discussing designer vibrators on their morning chat show when I should have been getting ready.

Right. I may have got this wrong, but when I was younger, Richard and Judy never discussed designer vibrators. Or maybe they did and I just didn't notice because I was, you know, a child. In my opinion children grow up too quickly these days. It's not unheard of to hear about twelve year olds shagging each other on the green, having pregnancy competitions with their siblings and running about at all hours wearing their ASBO's like a badge of honour. I read it in the Daily Mail all the time.

Anyway. My point is that daytime television has become more risque since the mid nineties. In years to come, when I' m older and I can afford designer vibrators which double up as interesting chic Nuevo art pieces, I will be sure of my mortification when any future children I bear decide to pick up said vibrator, turn it on and ask what it is.

"It's a foot massager, darling" I will sing song. I can see it now.

I'm running late to meet Celia as I'm trying to figure out where Lionel Ritchie is on my i-Pod. Celia is a casual acquaintance I met one night in the pub when I first moved up to Derby. Cat had wanted to spend some last-moment quality time with her not-gonna-last-past-Christmas boyfriend Ollie back home in Sanford before they split for good and went to separate universities. Sammy was still at home with her parents, I think, and Roberto had moved his stuff in, but was visiting his brother in Essex. One evening, I'd decided to check out the pub at the end of our road, just to see what it was like. On first glance it had seemed like one of those yokel local establishments, but I wandered in, ordered some wine and took a pew in the corner. Then I watched. And drank more wine. Then played some eighties music on the juke box and tripped over a shaggy red bag strap which was lying on the floor on the way back to my table.

"Shit shit shit!" I'd sworn, knocking wine over myself. "Sorry!"

"Don't worry, lass!" This gangly-looking Goth had looked up at me, fag in hand, wearing a trilby hat and a waistcoat. "These things happen. You're not from around here?"

"No," I'd said. "Well, yeah - I am actually."

"You either are or you're not. Or are you a student?" She'd laughed.

"Got it in one," I laughed back. "I moved in across the road a few days ago. Just checking out the local boozer, y'know ,get some practice in for Fresher's week, y'know, er, y'know how it goes." Why was I talking slang?

"Wanna join us? I've been living round here a few months. Uou going Uni or College?" She patted the seat next to her. "There's plenty room." I could feel her watching me.

I sat down. "Thanks," I said.

"You smoke?" she held out a packet of Marlboro Lights.

"I certainly do," I'd said.

And as I'd sat there sparking up a fag, listening to crap music, I'd sort of felt like I was home.

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© Copyright Charlotte Kymberley Walsh

With the greatest love in the world, it'll be an honour to all concerned if you want to link to University Crush. if you steal this without the express written permission of Charlotte Kymberly, you are legally screwed.

About the author

Charlotte Kimberley has been to Uni and quit, has partied like it's going out of fashion, has had her hair every colour under the sun, and believes in bohemian life, love and happiness! As a freelance journalist she's been a celebrity columnist and an Instant Messenger sex therapist, as well as a sex columnist for MAXIM man's magazine. Like a duracell bunny or an Ann Summers rabbit, she just don't stop.
Read her 'Babe's Bible' columnRead her serialisation of 'University Crush'Read the mooky advice column

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