Free Cinnamon Twigs by Darren Freebury-Jones Page A

I saw her everywhere, especially when couples walked past, and I felt haunted. Even the lines of poetry I studied described lovesick youth.
                  But I didn’t go to Cardiff University just to read poetry and mope. My eyes had been opened to the multitude of student offers and, in particular, the cheap nights out. I stayed at my mother’s house instead of moving to student accommodation, and often stumbled home during daybreak after pissing on the neighbors’ flowers.
                  Michael also studied at Cardiff. He took Philosophy. From a vocational point of view, he was only interested in becoming a professional actor. But the likes of Aristotle and Socrates fascinated him, so he decided to stick with performing in local theatres during his first year. The girls loved him, and he’d had a very successful freshers’ week in the bedroom department, and many unfortunate visits to the sexual health clinic. His nose had become crooked after his fight in town, but that made him look more distinctive, and he had no reason to lose confidence in his looks.
                  I wasn’t so successful with the opposite sex. I couldn’t talk to pretty girls for fear of betraying Lisa. But Michael reminded me that it was over between us and I needed to enjoy myself.
                  ‘I imagine it’s hard to begin with,’ he said. ‘But there’s no point in constantly telling me you’re moving on when you’re clearly not. This is a great university, and there are so many smart chicks around.’
                  ‘I thought that would put you off!’ I laughed.
                  ‘And there’s a lot of pretty girls too. You need to get laid.’
                  ‘Sex isn’t everything,’ I said.
                  ‘Yes, it is. Don’t question my philosophy. I’m a philosophy student.’
                  ‘I’d just feel so cynical if I slept with random girls for the sake of it.’
                  ‘Listen, and listen carefully. Otherwise I’m gonna go to the market, purchase a frozen fish and wallop you with it.’
                  ‘What the hell are you talking about?’ I cocked an eyebrow.
                  ‘I’m going to slap you with a fish, because you’re talking nonsense. Your mind’s still tossing on the mopish ocean of your time with Lisa, and that makes you a moping tosser.’ He wagged a finger at me.
                  ‘Okay. But why a fish?’
                  ‘I don’t know. It doesn’t matter.’
                  ‘It’s very random.’
                  ‘Cut the small talk. The fact of the matter is that you shouldn’t be looking for anything deeper than a sexual relationship right now. You’re nineteen and you’re talking about cynicism. You sound like a pleb.’
                  ‘Really?’
                  ‘Yes, really. Go out and enjoy being young and carefree. Don’t get bogged down by women and relationships. You go searching for Lisa’s replacement and you’ll never be happy. Jumping into serious relationships will only lead to a mid-life crisis.’
                  ‘You’re just a player.’ I folded my arms across my chest like an indignant child.
                  ‘How can a guy be a player if he doesn’t have a girlfriend to play? I get into girls’ knickers, not their hearts. I haven’t hurt anyone.’
                  ‘I see what you mean…’
                  ‘This relationship talk is bloody dreary! Men spend their lives searching for a woman who isn’t high maintenance. Women spend their lives searching for a man who “understands.”’
                  I laughed.
                  ‘You’re going out tonight, and you’re gonna get laid.