The power dynamics of food

Monday, 3.25 am
I wake up and think:
what am I worried about?
I remember work
and you
the dinner we said we'd have
Protestant work ethics and power dynamics
ingrained so painfully
remind me to hate / freak out / guilt deeply when men pay for me
drinks, dinner, whatever
I cannot handle charity
I must make sure
You do not pay for my tea

Monday, 1.10pm
lunch and I email you
about our final project meeting
god I can't wait til it's over
the last hurrah of my student career
You bought the last round,
it's only fair that I pay this time
I must make sure
You do not pay for my tea

Monday, 3.15pm
and there's your reply
casually asking
have I thought where to eat?
I hadn't thought yet freeze up blurt Indian,
because work is busy and I'm lazy and you're English
I must make sure
You do not pay for my tea

It's just a matter of pride
I'm earning, now, aren't I?
It's not like I don't appreciate the kindness of men, fr
iends stretching back over the years
with disposable incomes and 60 hour weeks
my turn
my turn


no one can say I didn't work for this right

Monday, 5.48pm
So you're 20 minutes late and I've done
all the damn work
golf?! I lost half my weekend for this!
you're funny
and co-operative
but I won't mind if you buy me a pint
I must make sure
that I pay for the tea

Monday, 7.30 pm
Last edit
Your edit
because I did the rest
No that's unfair I spose god I'm grumpy
I don't care about the tattoo
and the afternoon of cheated hope
the smell of smokes, sweet and rank
last night's fears seem hyperbolic
sin/syn/... serotonin glut?
You're paying for that damn drink
but I feel that as a modern feminist
You must not pay for my tea

Monday, 8.35
You paid for the Kilkenny
I knew you would
You have good taste in drink and a salary to match
I forgot that side of you
Unwinding with stories of why we've done this
Snatches and eddies
I do not miss the oh-so-important tangents
from 10 seconds ago
my anxiety sips gently away
I am relaxed: my most alien state
and you are gregarious
and say "don't tell anyone this; we know people in common"
I am most comfortable in bare feet
in a pub
with beer
and a good mate
tea? why not, I'm easy.


Relaxed, I mean: I'm relaxed.


Monday, 9.26 pm
We walk, almost straight lines
To the Indian two doors away
The waiter knows you by name
And you know wine
I remember why I love drinking with wine snobs:
the taste's always good saves my lack of knowledge
We share
far too much
or just enough
about us, our parents
there was something...
i think we could go halves on the tea?

Monday, 10.15pm
the hair in the curry disgusts you but not me
You say "there's almost a generation between us"
and spark a whole conversation about advertising
I say "If you're from... did you speak Welsh?"
You say "I'm half Welsh, I went to a Welsh-speaking school"
me too
well, the half-Welsh bit
I am furiously jealous that you got to keep your language
We connect over Chaucer
You don't mind that I translate the original for fun
I am stopped dead with surprise and delight
This never, ever happens to me
Why aren't you "nearly a generation" younger?!
I say, "don't tell any of my Christian mates this; we know people in common"
We're both a little ripped and it's a Monday night
So getting home to our respective
last bus?
I don't mind if you pay for our tea

Monday, 10.45pm
we hug goodbye
I forgot that short guys are
my god perfect to hug
Barossa Valley's done well
to rob that inhibition from me
you're comfortable and illicit
say, "We were a great team, weren't we?"
and I say, "Yeah, defnitley hey thanks for the dinner it was thanks so much"
and you say, "Well, I'm off for smokes, but..."
(no can't have been, you'd say "cigarettes")
and I say, "Well I'll probably be round your way this weekend"
and you say, "Yeah, do, do drop in, let me know"
i may be reporting this inaccurately but

halfway home
I'm listening to Muse
and you David Bowie
you text "are you on your way safe?"
this is why
I like you so much better when you're sober
because you're kind and english and a good
I'm glad you paid for my tea
it fitted

Monday, 11.57 pm -12.20 am
the text conversation is over
I'm worried it's drunk poetry time
explained the protestant guilt
sorry, it's a monday i'm too
my brain shoots straight to work, I can't do that again
even though... well, best left unsaid
I'm glad we're mates and there's nothing else in it
5 years ago I'd've run a mile from a bloke like you
what with the beer and the smokes and the
voice like home i've never been to
but you surprise me
you read

I've promised next time, it'll be kiwi
It won't emasculate you if the girl pays
and you seem ok
for me to pay for our tea