You'd want to do coffee. You'd be one of those people who can't go anywhere without a caffeine burst, and who gets all mopey when they don't get one. You'd be miserable in the mornings until you'd found an espresso dispensary, then queue up like a doe-eyed junkie waiting for your first daily fix. I'd look at you with sad withering eyes and think "what am I doing with an addict?" I don't need fuel injection to feel awake. I do life unstimulated. We'd never get on.
You'd need more than six hours sleep. You'd want to go to bed before midnight, which in my world is unnatural. You'd still be in bed at eight, not up and doing. You'd want to wake up whenever the fancy took you, which might be nearly noon for heaven's sake. I'd be staring at the ceiling, wide awake, wishing the day would begin. I don't do bed for any longer than I have to, not if I can possibly help it. We'd never get on.
You'd want to fill time with DVDs. You'd go out and spend ten, maybe twenty quid on a film we saw at the cinema three months ago, then make me watch it again. You might even do box sets, which would be hell. You'd buy entire series you could have recorded off the telly for free, because you're a mug. You'd settle down on the sofa and feed the first disc into the player, then watch umpteen episodes on the trot for lack of anything better to do. By the end of episode 3 I'd be watching the little timer on the machine, willing it forward to 55 minutes so this purgatory could end. I don't do box sets. If I want to watch something I make sure I watch it when it's on. Once is quite enough, thanks. We'd never get on.
You'd want to make plans. You'd have tonight sorted, and Friday night mapped out, and the weekend pencilled in. You'd resolve to do things you thought might be interesting, even if they weren't especially. You'd have friends who'd want to do dinner, and they'd be boring sods. You'd take up some hobby, merely as something to do 'together'. You wouldn't want any slack, because time must be filled, by however mundane an event. I hate tying myself down to sub-optimal social occasions. I like spontaneous, even if that sometimes looks like apathy. I like gaps. We'd never get on.
You'd take unnecessary taxis. You'd have commercial radio playing in the car. You'd want to dine out at 'interesting' restaurants. You'd drag round the same old shops every Saturday. You'd watch channel two hundred and something on Sky purely because there was nothing else on. You'd demand to take a beach holiday. You'd probably vote for 'them'. You'd want a pet, most likely a bloody dog, and whine until you got one. You wouldn't walk along the platform to the empty bit, you'd be one of those annoying people that stops within ten feet of the stairs. You'd spend half your time buried in your iPhone. You'd like jogging. You'd turn out to have a secret smoking habit, or garlic, or worse. I do none of that. I sometimes pick where to go on Saturday out of a jamjar. We'd never get on.
I answer to nobody. I live in a cosy bubble, a protective cocoon, a universe governed by inertia. I carry on undeflected, independent, unaccompanied. I do what I want, because there's nobody to say otherwise. You'd never compromise enough to fit in. You'd just stop me being me. We'd never get on.
