My Perfect Life - Food

2007-09-29T11:37:00.000-07:00

Trafford Clay was one of the first students I saw on my last day of... well, my last day. He told me he studied architecture, which to the untrained and unexperienced doesn't mean a great deal. To me, it meant a lot. It's not an average person who chooses to be an architect, but a very specific type of student. A perfectionist.

You see, what Trafford loved most about architecture - apart from the clean lines, calculated figures and minute attention to detail - was the belief that he was designing the perfect building. A home in which perfect little families played out their perfect little lives, an office where the perfect workers carried out their perfect jobs, or a restaurant where a perfect meal would end the perfect date.

Many would say that Trafford himself had the perfect life. Unlike others who had known hardship, Trafford had never had to work a day in his life. He did well at school, and his family had enough money to send him to Greenwood University College, a small but high-performing institute of higher education. Not quite Oxford or Cambridge, but not far off.

Everyone at Greenwood knew Trafford - he was, after all, worth knowing. In his first year, Trafford had lived in dorms with all the other first year students, and it was here that he had met Marcos. The two best looking boys in the halls were hardly short of attention. While Marcos played the field, Trafford ended up settling on a beautiful, blonde (and perfect) girlfriend - Libby.

During secondary school, Trafford was captain of the rugby, cricket and hockey First XI teams. He didn't play as much sport anymore, not because he couldn't, but because he simply had better things to do. He still participated in the college rugby team though, and it was here he had met Dexter.

Trafford was no slouch when it came to having fun, either. He held the record for most traffic cones collected, and his boys' nights out where legendary. He had first met Cameron on one of these nights, although little did Trafford know that Cameron had been expecting a different kind of boys' night out entirely.

In short, everyone in college knew Trafford and, by virtue of this, everyone knew his housemates too. An enviable position, you might think? Perhaps it'd more useful to walk around in someone's shoes before judging their lives...

Cameron: So, what's for breakfast, Yankee?

Dexter: I'm not a Yankee.

Cameron: Er... you sound like one to me... Are you in denial? I know it's hard, but you really need to accept that you're American. There are worse things. Like... No, sorry, I take it back. Denial's probably best.

Dexter: Wow, making fun of Americans, that's original. Actually, Yankees are from New England.

Cameron: And you're from...?

Dexter: Kansas.

Cameron: Like Dorothy!?

Trafford: Morning lads, what's happening?

Cameron: I just found out Dexter's from Oz!

Trafford: Doesn't sound Australian to me...

Dexter: Just ignore him.

Trafford: So big man, what's for brunch?

Dexter: Good ole fashioned pancakes. A proper American way to start the day.

Trafford: For breakfast? No wonder they're all obese.

Cameron: Isn't maple syrup Canadian?

Dexter: Okay, do I look obese to you?

Cameron: Well, I think you're getting a bit podgy lately.

Dexter: Do you think?!

Trafford: He's pulling your leg.

Dexter: Very funny. Anyway, I've got three words for you: English fry-up.

Trafford: ...Isn't that two words?

Cameron: Yeah, I wasn't gonna say anything, but fry-up's hyphenated.

Dexter: Whatever, if you don't wanna eat it, there's more for me.

Cameron: Okay, okay, you're not fat, and the pancakes are great.

Dexter: Thanks... That's more like it...

Trafford: ... So where's Mar- Speak of the devil.

Marcos: Morning lads, shower's free. Are those pancakes? For breakfast?

Cameron: Don't diss it til you've tried it!

Marcos: I never do. I'm off now.

Trafford: I didn't think you were in college today?

Marcos: I'm not, just off out.

Dexter: Where to?

Marcos: That's for me to know, and you not to.

Cameron: Oooh! We'll leave it at that.

Marcos: Well, just to let you know the bathroom's free, so...

Trafford: I'll go!

Everybody knew Trafford. They knew him as a bright student, a skilled sportsman, a good time, and a great friend.

Trafford: You're fat and ugly... you're disgusting... Why can't you just look normal...?

Unfortunately, no-one really knew Trafford very well.

Ama Donovan

Cameron Hart

Dexter Fitch

Harriet Knight

Kieron Hart

Libby Farrell

Marcos Castille

Rachel Weston

Rose Munroe

Trafford Clay

My Perfect Life

Episode 1: Food

Harriet: Morning Sexbomb!

Kieron: Are my eyes decieving me, or are you actually in the kitchen?

Harriet: Oi, cheeky! I was just thinking about rustling something up.

Kieron: In the interests of public health and safety, it's probably best that you don't.

Harriet: I hope you're not insinuating anything about my culinary skills...

Kieron: Me? Never!

Harriet: Hah hah, I thought not. Cuz otherwise you'd be cruising for a dead arm.

Kieron: Okay, okay, I take it all back! So, where's Rose?

Harriet: Oh, you know Rose, she's probably up in her room.

Kieron: I guessed as much.

Harriet: So how was your summer, anyway? I missed you, you know.

Kieron: Well, er, I missed you as well.

Harriet: ...How was your dad?

Kieron: His good old self... Cameron took the brunt as usual...

Harriet: Sorry to hear it...

Kieron: Anyway, how about you? You and Carl still...?

Harriet: Yeah, we're still together. Two years next month. Scary, isn't it? How quickly time passes.

Kieron: Get up to anything scandalous?

Harriet: Oh, of course! We went around London pretending to be German tourists.

Kieron: I didn't know you could speak German.

Harriet: I can't, that was the fun part! Then we went to Soho, and I got chatted up by a lesbian!

Kieron: Check you out!

Harriet: I know, irresistable to both sexes, I just can't help it. She said if I ever wanted to get rid of Carl, she'd be waiting! Oh, and then we went to Chinatown, you should've seen it!

Kieron: I've always wanted to go there!

Harriet: Me too! Carl doesn't really like Chinese food, so we didn't spend that long there.... But you should've smelt it. Sweet and sour sauce was just wafting out of this restaurant.

Kieron: Stop it, you're torturing me! I could eat sweet and sour chicken til I have pineapple in my veins.

Harriet: Oh, me too! This one time, I went to an all-you-can-eat Chinese restaurant. I had five plates full of sweet and sour chicken. Please don't judge me....

Kieron: I won't! If I'd have been there, I'd probably have had six.

Harriet: Oh, so you're saying you could out-eat me, eh? We'll have to see about that.

Kieron: Bring it on!

Harriet: Oh, the phone! I'll get it!

Harriet: Harri Knight speaking, if you're not drop dead gorgeous please hang up now.

Oh, Carl! Hi!

I'm great, just finished unpacking all my stuff. At last!

Lazy am I? Says Mr 'it's not a lie-in if you get up before midday'!

Hah hah! You're so rude!

Harriet: So what are you up to?

That's sweet of you.

Me? I'm just in the kitchen, having a chat.

With Kieron.

Harriet: No, Rose is here as well.

I'm looking at her as I speak.

No, I can't put her on.

She's quiet, she doesn't want to.

Look, I've got to go Carl, lectures start in, like, ten minutes. Love you!

***

Libby: Do you think I need an eyelash perm?

Trafford: ...Sorry?

Libby: I was reading about them the other day, and I just wondered if it was worth having one. Do you think my eyelashes are too straight?

Trafford: Your eyelashes are fine, believe me.

Libby: Did you know you can get make-up tattooed on?

Trafford: Tattoed?

Libby: Yeah! I mean, I'd never go for that! Imagine if your complexion changed, or you died your hair, you'd look ridiculous. Although I bet it'd save time... If only there was some operation you could have so your hair would be permanently straight? But then I bet GHD would sue whoever invented it... What do you think, Trafford?

Trafford: ........

Libby: Traf?

Trafford: Hm? Sorry?

Libby: Hehe, and people say I have my head in the clouds. Earth to Traffod! Do you read me?

Trafford: Yeah... sure... sorry, just a bit out of it... You know, all these assignments they set you at the start of the year, it just gets a bit on top of you.

Libby: Tell me about it! Seven assignments due in January. It's like 'welcome back to college, hope you had fun over summer because you are now entering the fourth circle of Hell'. I've got four essays, two research projects and a presentation.

Trafford: That's rough.

Libby: Tell me about it. Last year I left it all til the last minute, but this year I'm making a start early. It's all your fault!

Trafford: Me?!

Libby: You're too cute. You keep distracting me.

Trafford: I don't think so...

Libby: Of course you do, you studmuffin!

Trafford: You're buttering me up for something...

Libby: Of course not! Just wondered if you're free tonight? Because I've decided I'm going to do my research now while the books haven't been snatched by the mature students yet.

Trafford: What do you want me to do?

Libby: Well, it's my pragmatics research. I mean, I get referencial, phatic and poetic language functions, I'm just struggling a bit with conative language.

Trafford: I don't think I'm the right person to ask!

Libby: I just need someone to help me mark the pages, that's all. And maybe afterwards, we could do a bit more... reseach... together?

Trafford: I, uh... I'm sorry...

Libby: That's okay...

Trafford: I'm just not feeling well, that's all. I'm sorry...

Libby: I understand. Some other time, maybe?

Trafford: Yeah, of course.

Libby: So what's wrong?

Trafford: What do you mean?

Libby: You seem a bit quiet lately.

Trafford: ....Do you ever look in the mirror, and it doesn't feel like your own reflection?

Libby: All the time!

Trafford: Really?

Libby: Yeah, but then I straighten my hair, and voila, Libby's back!

Trafford: Oh.... yeah, right. Look, I'm sorry about this evening.

Libby: I really don't mind! How can I? I've got the most gorgeous boyfriend in college, who's the sweetest, kindest and most darn-good-in-bed-est man I've ever met. I suppose I can't get greedy. So chin up, eh? I mean, you've got me as a girlfriend, what more could you wish for, hehe!

Trafford: Yeah, thanks Libby....

Libby: Well, I'll get out of your way. Ama's in college, and Rachel's got Barney over. I don't feel like being a raspberry between those two, so I might see about those eyelash perms.

Trafford: I told you, you're beautiful as you are.

Libby: There's always room for improvement!

Trafford: A lot of room in my case...

***

Barney: So... did you chose the colour?

Rachel: It was brown before. What do you think?

Barney: I think you should've stuck with brown.

Rachel: Oh aye, Mr Grumpy! If pink is good enough for your hair, it's good enough for my room!

Barney: My hair's not pink, it's lightish red.

Rachel: If you say that enough, maybe you'll start to believe it.

Barney: And what's going on with the single bed? How am I supposed to fit?

Rachel: Well, I'm sorry but I couldn't afford a double. You'll just have to squeeze up close...

Barney: Or maybe I'll take the floor.

Rachel: What's wrong with squeezing up to me?

Barney: Nothing.

Rachel: Prove it!

Barney: That better?

Rachel: Much.

Barney: What would your mother say if she saw us now?

Rachel: Her pure little Jewish daughter, corrupted by a heathen.

Barney: I prefer the word pagan. And you're not exactly pure.

Rachel: Careful...

Barney: I'm just glad summer's over. All that sneaking around was stressful.

Rachel: Barney.... I need to talk to you about something....

Barney: Whoa! If this is the 'move in together' talk, I'm not ready, okay? I mean, I really like you, and yeah, I'd love to do the whole white picket fence thing later, but just not yet, okay? I'm not ready for that kind of commintment. Okay, there, I said it. ...... Am I dumped?

Rachel: You're really not ready serious about us, are you?

Barney: Of course I'm serious about us. It's just... it's only been six months. I still want to get to know you more, you know?

Rachel: Sure... Well, I wasn't going to ask you to move in, anyway.

Barney: What were you going to ask?

Rachel: It doesn't matter now. Just forget I said anything, you sort of answered my question anyway.

Barney: Are you angry with me?

Rachel: No! Well, perhaps a bit.

Barney: I'm sorry for being such a...

Rachel: Man?

Barney: Yeah, I suppose.

Rachel: Then why don't you make it up to me?

Barney: How?

Rachel: I'm sure you can find a way...

Barney: ....You know, when you move into a new room, it's customary to Christen the bed.

Rachel: I thought you said it was too small!

Barney: Well, maybe we can Christen the floor instead?

Rachel: So romantic!

***

Trafford: This... smells really good, Marcos.

Cameron: Mmmph... tastes even better!

Marcos: Cheers, it's my family's recipe.

Cameron: I didn't think the Portuguese made spaghetti.

Marcos: My great grandmother stole it from an Italian.

Cameron: Well, it beats a Maccy D's, anyway. Don't you think, Dexter?

Dexter: Er, Maccy what's?

Trafford: The burger place.

Dexter: Oh. I wouldn't know, I've never been.

Marcos: You've never been?

Dexter: Yeah, I don't really eat junk food.

Marcos: You don't eat junk food?

Dexter: I just don't like it. I don't drink either.

Marcos: You don't drink?

Dexter: Are you gonna repeat everything I say?

Trafford: Whoa, hold it, you've never been drunk?

Dexter: No... I just don't like the idea of putting harmful stuff into your body. The way I see it, your body's a temple, you should take good care of it.

Cameron: I wish more temples were like that, I'd be a lot more religious.

Marcos: ....You've never been drunk....?

Dexter: Okay, moving on.... Hey, I saw Libby in town today.

Trafford: Oh yeah, she said was heading there. Did her eyelashes seem very curly?

Dexter: ...I don't get it...

Trafford: Never mind.

Dexter: She's real babe.

Trafford: Careful, that's my girlfriend you're talking about.

Dexter: Sorry. But's she's real hot.

Cameron: And whoever said nineties man was dead?

Marcos: Speaking of other halves, how's Ryan?

Cameron: He's good. He might be coming over in a few weeks.

Marcos: Oh no!

Trafford: What's wrong.

Marcos: Just don't expect to get any sleep. Cameron's quite vocal.

Cameron: Well, it's good manners to let someone know if you enjoy something.

Marcos: At three in the morning?!

Dexter: Ryan your friend? What were you doing, jumping on your beds?

Cameron: Er... not jumping... Maybe if you change a letter?

Marcos: Ryan is Cameron's boyfriend.

Dexter: What?! So he's a... you're a...

Trafford: Oh my god, don't tell me you never knew. How dense are you?

Dexter: I just... wow... I mean, where I come from, there aren't really any.... homosexuals...

Trafford: He didn't just say that did he?

Cameron: Homosexual is a bit... clinical. You can call me gay, it's a lot shorter.

Dexter: O-Okay, Gay- I mean, Cameron.

Cameron: Are you alright with it? I mean, if you'd rather Ryan didn't come over-

Dexter: No, it's fine. I mean, just a bit of a surprise, that's all. I didn't realise you were that way before. I mean, I've never met anybody who's homo-... gay.

Cameron: Eh, you probably have, you just didn't know.

Marcos: Dexter...

Dexter: Yeah?

Marcos: I've got something to tell you too...

Marcos: That's for being so thick!

Dexter: Spaghetti sauce... my eye!

Trafford: I'm gonna go up to bed, I think...

Cameron: But it's still early! And you've hardly eaten anything.

Trafford: I know, I just don't feel well. Maybe a stomach bug or something?

Cameron: You should go and see a doctor.

Trafford: I'm fine. It'll probably be gone by tomorrow.

Cameron: If you're sure.

Trafford: Okay guys, see you in the morning.

Marcos: Already? I haven't got the tequila out yet.

Trafford: Thanks for the meal, sorry I couldn't eat more of it...

Marcos: That alright, you're welcome.

Trafford: Night, guys.

Dexter: Night Traff.

Cameron: You think he's alright?

Marcos: Yeah, he's probably just stressed from all the assignments, you know? Just give him a few days. Now, I cooked, so guess who's washing and drying?

Cameron: I'll dry!

Dexter: Dammit...

***

Trafford was indeed a perfectionist, so much so that it kept him awake at night.

As he walked through the corridor, he couldn't help but compare himself to the occupants of the rrom he walked past, his friends. Each was so much better than him, or so he believed.

Why any of them associated themselves with him, he could not fathom.

They were strong; he was weak.

It failed to dawn on Trafford that in fact he was like anyone else. We all seek perfection. We seek the perfect friends who understand us, who can make us laugh, who are there to support us.

We seek the perfect partners, who we can share anything with, and trust, and hold through the night.

And we seek to perfect ourselves, on the inside and out.

In these ways, Trafford was just like anybody else. There were only two differences. Firstly, Trafford could not see perfection in the way you or I see it. And secondly....

He was prepared to do a lot more to attain it.