When Lennon met Harry

So... I'll just sit here and wait then

"Glen! Remember your last internet date? And the one before that? Oh, and don't forget the guy whos idea of a first date was to take you to a holocaust museum-"

"I know! But honestly, this is the one. I can feel it. I mean, how else am I meant to meet people? You're like the only person I hang around with and much as I love you, the idea of sleeping with you physically repulses me-"

"Well thanks." I mutter.

"No really, the thought of it makes me want to vomit-"

"Ok I get the message."

"It's just gross. I mean the thought of having sex with you-"

"Glen if you want to make it to this date alive you better shut up now."

He opens his mouth to speak before thinking better of it.

"So... This date?" I say eventually.

"Well, his name is Tristan..." I let Glen ramble on excitedly as I watch him.

I might be the most irresponsible person you'll ever meet, but I do care about Glen. Behind all the sarcastic comments he has a heart of gold. The minute he'd heard Tyler had kicked me out he refused to even think about letting me stay anywhere else. He just desperately wants to be loved, and makes some really shitty decisions in men to get that.

He changes about a million times before settling on his outfit.  Once he's finally gone I start to think what I should do with myself today.

I figure I should phone home. I try to do it at least once a week, if only to check that Brian is still alive and being fed. I have this vague fear that my parents will put him on a wheatgrass only diet or some crazy shít like that. Four years ago my Dad decided to survive on 'Prana energy' he refused food and water for 2 months, claiming he was living off the earths energy instead.

When mum found out he was sneaking to McDonald's twice a day she nearly divorced him.

In fact, to this day we're not even allowed to mention it. The marriage only survived because they had counselling sessions with the local weed dealer, who claims to be a Cherokee Indian. Of course, he has no explanation of how a Native American came to live in a tiny freezing village in Northern England, or why he has ginger hair, but my parents aren't really ones for details anyway.

The phone rings for ages before it's breathlessly answered.

"Hello?"

"Hey Brian it's Lennon! How you doing little buddy?"

"Lennon!" He squeals excitedly. He sounds way younger than his ten years. Sometimes I worry that he doesn't get enough contact with kids his own age. He's way younger than the rest of us and at least we had each other.

"I'm rad." He says happily.

I grin at his attempt to sound cool.

"What have you been up too? Why are you so out of breath?"

"Well." He huffs quickly, trying to catch his breath. "Me and Mum were just balancing our core energies by doing Swedish forest yodelling."

He says this casually, as if it's a standard thing for 10 year olds to do with their parents on a Saturday morning. I push away the slightly pathetic image of Brian and my mum yodelling to each other.