on the weekend i met someone who was like me. i think maybe he's the english version of me.
he loves britpop and our conversations tended to always end up there. he gets it. or rather, he experienced it (and continues to experience it) like me. we also share a deep love for the 90s tv show this life. in chatting about these and other things, i felt like a lot of stuff needn't be said or explained, cos he knew how it was. it was comfortable. but at the same time it wasn't, cos he was too much like me.
talking made me realise how much british pop culture i've lapped up over the years. like him. except he was there. and he was seeing all these gigs that i could only ever dream about. bands that never came to australia. he was being the me that i could not be.
he has a skinny body, an unusual face, a misshapen mouth. just like me. in looking at him, i could not tell if i found him attractive or not. it changed as we spoke. some moments he was beautiful, others he was not. it's similar to how i see myself, in photos and mirrors, and in general. maybe it's how we all view ourselves. but it's generally not how i view others. sure, i might not position people at either end of the beautiful-ugly spectrum, but it's rare that someone should occupy both extremes.
i liked his northern accent. i don't have one of those.
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