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A little less conversation: After Sex @Arcolatheatre

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According to research, millennials in rich countries are having sex less these days. But they were prepared to talk more about it. So, it is no surprise to see a story about what happens when a series of no-strings-attached encounters start to become attachments. And the conversations arising from it. Such is the premise of After Sex, Siofra Dromgoole’s two-hander of the conversations afterwards. It’s not particularly sexy or erotic, and the snappy pacing and short scenes sometimes make you wish they stayed longer to finish the conversation. Nevertheless, it is still a funny and, at times, bittersweet picture of single lives in the big city. It’s currently playing at the Arcola Theatre .  He is bi and works for her in an office job. She is neither ready for a commitment nor to let the office know what’s happening. He isn’t prepared to tell his mum there’s someone special in his life. He doesn’t speak to his dad, so his mum is his world. It’s a perfect relationship/arrangement. Or so it
Idle Chatter at home this evening

Paul: I am just heading out for a spot of gym
Flatmate: You're heading out for a spot of what?
Paul: Gym.
Flatmate: Oh gym! I thought you said you were heading out for a spot of gin!
Paul: Wouldn't that be a splash of gin?

Keeping fit and smoking

As for gym, six months after joining I think it is paying off as I feel healthier and I can run for long periods without passing out. This must be a good thing. Although I am still not ready to take my shirt off in a dance tent in Brighton.

To help with the whole gym experience I have had Kylie, Madge and Whitney on the iPOD. But I have also supplemented them with old hits from Olivia Newton John, Basement Jaxx and Mariah Carey. Yes Mariah as New York Times said that her song "We belong together" is the song of the summer. So who can argue about that?

Later tonight I returned home to a flat full of cigarette smoke. My flatmate was entertaining a gentleman caller who obviously had a thing for heavy duty tobacco. I didn't see the caller but envisaged that he would be some red-faced leathery looking thing so I figured I didn't need to meet the passing trade. As for the smoke, I shouldn't complain too much about it since I am living with somebody fairly easygoing. No kitchen Nazi, unlike my former housemates in Haringey. When looking for a place I found it worthwhile to discount anybody who introduced the kitchen with a funny accent and adding "And this is how we always keep it... Spotless!"

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