Beirupdate, romance

Talent like yours, Mr Idiots, should not go wasted in Beirut. V visits from Switzerland. She has blonde hair and of a sudden I understand I’m growing used to this place. J romances her with sunset suppers and seafront roleplay while I explain to M that the roach she saw was just a mouse and nothing to worry about except that I’m bad fucking news. J and I do pushups on the terrace while the girls look good and we all hydrate each other with black label and bombay in teacups. Soon we leave to test Lebanese patience and with M and V we’re the envy of a small world. After seven hours and a bill no one recalls settled J and I blow minds and ruin lives. Over fifteen pitchers I tell the story of the river and we agree that infidelity is admirable but when M’s mother arrives and I offer shots and sex with an unbuttoned shirt it goes down badly and yet her daughter sticks around. By now we’re Beirut celebrities and I know I am the same way a baby knows it will live forever so I dance the stage while the DJ packs away and sing in rival circles and harass short skirts to where a waiter we never tip tells me to take it easy. In the zone we waltz to McDonalds and I throw bills across the counter and yell take it fucking take it like a man as J mixes his own dessert. At home I hear myself say let’s have kids and I tie M’s neck with my belt and she falls asleep in tears.