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That’s Your Boyfriend: Scotland’s Number One Male Barbie

The two of you met at a Hot Topic looking at a display of new Manic Panic colors and at first it was all very exciting. You would help him carefully bleach leopard spots into his head, and he would help you scarify his name into your forearm with a gum eraser. At a certain point, though, you noticed that your mutual disgust for your nowhere hometown was not as mutual as it had seemed at the beginning. Sure, you could spend an entire afternoon fantasizing about going to University, finding a good job, moving to Glasgow or, in your flightier fancies, the United States. It was normal to trade in heated dreams of road trips, studio apartments, and dinner parties. All of your friends did. There was a whole world out there, and one day you wouldn’t be stuck in your parents’ flat dreaming of escape. But he never really talks about University, or saving up money for a train ticket. He focuses all of his frustrations into dressing like the rocket to Gay Saturn might take off at any moment, and his desire to carve his own path in life is less about actually making it out of here than what will get him the most looks at a pub two towns away that has dancing on Fridays. You do have fun with each other, though. You’ll probably stay together until you turn 18 (you’ve always said you’re moving the day after your birthday). And maybe you will stay friends. See each other every Christmas, when you come back home for a visit, to the town you finally escaped, where he lives his entire life, just drinking and drinking and drinking. (Thanks for the tip, Chantal.)