The Things I Wish I Had Told You

Part 6.

(pictured above: aesthetics for Beavs)

It was a warm September evening and we were enjoying our cocktails in the student pub, the Drunken Beaver or 'Beavs' as it was more commonly known. Unlike other London pubs, the ambiance was much more agreeable and wasn't overpopulated with drunks from five pm every night. Instead, students would flock to Beavs after lectures to unwind with a pint or four, catch up with friends and gossip about campus drama. That evening was rather pleasant, which meant that the garden portion of the pub was taking visitors. Decorated with fairy lights and tropical plants, Marina, Louise and I sat around a small, well-used wooden table drinking margaritas.

"I don't know how I'm supposed to do this for another five years, one week was tiring enough!" Marina often complained extensively about the buckets of stress that accompanied her on her medicine degree. Despite that, it had been her lifelong dream to become a gynaecologist, a dream that - at this moment - seemed more like one of the ones you forget immediately after you wake up, rather than a concrete aspiration.

"Well, at least you don't have to deal with nerdy, socially challenged pimple-covered maths geeks all week," Louise chimed in. I couldn't help but giggle at the thought of Louise sitting in a class, looking as if she had just come from a glamorous photo shoot, in a room full of boys with square glasses and unwashed hoodies. "You know, the other day, I was going to my lecture, arrived early as always and decided to sit next to this decent looking guy. Then you won't believe what happened! He turned to me and said this was a maths lecture, the sociology lecture is upstairs." As she said this with such dismissal, it reminded me of my conversation with Cameron the other day. "I just looked him straight in the eye, gave him a piercing stare and got up and moved a few seats forward. Why are men like this? It's the Twenty-first century for heaven's sake." Marina nodded her head and I stepped in with an existential commentary on the small-minds that seem to possess even the smartest of boys these days.

We continued in this topic further as Marina began to give us a highly comprehensive analysis of male archetypes on Tinder.

"I just don't see why they think that's attractive? Like girls don't think so, so who are they trying to pool? Themselves?" She raised her arms in a confused gesture. Apparently, she had matched with a few boys she regarded as 'her type on paper, but not on the chat' but was somewhat turned off when their second or third messages were essentially booty calls.

"I get that this is to some extent the purpose of Tinder, but really - did their mothers not raise them with manners? He could have at least asked me out, I would have probably slept with him anyway." Louise appreciated her frustration, but I just sat there smiling and agreeing since I had little to no experience in this field.

"Totally, if he doesn't at least want to go on a date then he's by no means deserving of getting in your pants, or, even your mouth for that matter of fact," Louise's face displayed a marginally puzzled expression as the words left her mouth.

"I have such low expectations of our generation. It seems like dating culture has been sorely replaced with hookup culture and I don't know how I feel about it," I shared my input, but wasn't sure how they others would take it.

"Romance is dead and the Gen Z has killed him," Marina proclaimed as I chuckled at this new and improved Nietzsche quotation.

"I do believe that there are some good ones left. If they were raised right, they'll do what it takes to make you happy and they'll do it properly. And if they're not willing to do that, then you're stunning enough to find someone else who will," Louise honestly understood romance and understood how to play the game. This was why I found myself rather surprised by her relationship with Alec.