School Disco

I went to my ex Adam's 30th birthday party. You know you're getting older when your twinks turn 30.

I still keep in touch with Adam. Despite his drug habit, and the time he tried to kill me, or when he assaulted me in a pole-dancing club. There's something about him that keeps me hanging around him. Maybe I still love him, just a little. Or maybe it's cos he owes me £200.

Anyway, Adam's 30th wasn't quite the party he was expecting. He had a big plan for a funeral theme - which got scrapped when, tragically, his flatmate died. So, it was became a strangely subdued affair - full of very young men. And me.

I'd forgotten quite how young Adam likes his men. I remember him once laughing about not going to a shag's 18th birthday party as he was no longer interesting... but this was something else. A room full of weird child-gays, old before their time. All gangly limbs and haughty expressions.

"Oh god," I thought. "I don't fancy any of you." Well, apart from the scowling Eastern-European looking one. He looked cruel. Hurrah!

I helped myself to some KP Skips, a party hat, and tried to think of something to say. I have a Myspace page somewhere. Perhaps we could talk about that. Or, um... no, hang on - this was a room of people who think that McFly are ancient.

I ended up talking to a visiting Irish chef. He looked as lost as I did, although he wasn't my type. We went and hid in the downstairs bar, until one of Adam's catamites ordered us upstairs.

Adam introduced me to one of them (not, sadly, the scowling one, who winked at me. In a scowly way).

"Hi, this is Mark," said Adam. "He's my boyfriend."

It's always a shame when you meet the boyfriend of someone you once went out with, no matter how disastrously. There's a slight "oh, what does he have that I don't?" In this case, the answer appeared to be buck teeth.

Mark mumbled, and hid his head behind his fringe.

"I know! Isn't he sweet?" roared Adam. "Guess what? We're engaged! Look at me settling down and doing commitment!"

I smiled like a fat friend in a sitcom.

I rang my friend Kate. "Meet me in a bar, any bar, in half an hour."