10/09/05 - Final
Tat man and I woke up early one morning to the sun shining too bright and the sound of a digger hacking at the pavement below. We couldn't sleep so we lay on the dusty mattress on the floor which he (under considerable disillusionment) likes to call a luxury floorbed, ate biscuits and drew up a list of all the things we'd like in life but don't have.
'You to have a proper bed,' I said. 'I have!' he said.
'A smooth, brown-haired miniature sausage dog,' I said. 'A squatter-boy dog on a string - a hungry-looking Jack Russell with wiry ginger hair to match mine,' he said.
'A flat with an upstairs and a downstairs,' I said. 'A house then,' he replied sarcastically. 'Yes a house ... with a patch of vegetables. Your turn.'
'Not to live in a high-rise with burly boys who like shouting into their Flash Harry mobiles on the landing in the middle of the night on one side and the baby/dog hybrid woman on the other, someone with a DIY and hammering obsession above, somebody splitting concrete below, a lift that smells of wee and the infinite roar of London's traffic and people from all directions day and night,' he said, with sleep-deprived, noise-induced exasperation.
'A boyfriend who wears bigger shoes than me,' I said. 'A girlfriend who stops going on about the size of my feet,' he replied.
'To stop losing sight,' I said.
'Matching tattooed wedding rings to stop you still looking,' he replied.
03/09/05 - Type
People can change their own tunes. Sometimes a taste revolution occurs, the status quo gets shaken and a new ilk breaks the fetters of your old self-inflicted criteria. I said I'd never go out with anyone under 6ft or with feet smaller than a size 10. I wanted someone who would make me feel daintier than I really am. Tat man is my height with smaller feet than my size sevens. At first I felt vaguely transvestite. Now I don't care.
I used to think tattoos were unsavoury. Now I have a lover who exists as a canvas with legs for his best friend to scribble on, and my roving eye clocks the other tattoo boys of London with a new-found fondness. The illustrated man is now decidedly attractive - but only up to a point. When we met, tat man said he wanted more pictures. I told him he had enough. Now I think he should have more. There are a few empty inches of skin that could be adorned with new faces. I was thinking maybe a fluffy kitten or a little bird to balance the horror of the existing death emblems. But he was thinking a devil with an erection. 'It's traditional,' he said. 'It's horrid,' I said. 'Give me one good reason why I shouldn't get it,' he replied. 'Because ... what if my mum invited you to a family barbecue and it was so hot you wanted to take off your top while you turn the sausages.' 'And?' he asked, provocatively. 'And ... you'll scare everyone,' I said with desperation. 'Exactly,' said tat man.