The Boys I Don’t End Up With

A piece of “fictional memoir” where I recount the elaborate romantic daydreams I’ve concocted in the past. Published in ISSUE #5: COMMITMENT.

Read the full piece here. Find the rest of my work for ISSUE Magazine here.


He’s a young man with a penchant for vests and dark trousers. Dark haired, slim and lanky, “sinewy”, with long “elegant” fingers. Tall-ish. Doesn’t have a stable job, lives with roommates, a pretty solid fixture of the postgraduate, creative underclass, barely employed/newly embarked careers social circle. Owns the usual predictable “niche” interests in pop culture, literature, politics, etc. Bit of a self-styled anarchist. Rides a motorcycle, gets into fights. Has a bearded, more reliable and securely coupled best friend who is my entry into his world.

I am new to the world of dating, of romance, of boys who are now suddenly men. Beyond a few clumsy dates, and now making all the new male friends I never had in school, my life as a single person continues.

He is my act of bravery.