Simon Amstell: Do Nothing Page #7

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We still judge ourselves on sex.

And we add so much meaning to it,

as we add meaning to everything in our lives.

Sex can just be fun. It can just be fun.

It can just be fun.

No one ever says,

"Oh, you're playing all that tennis.

"Where's it leading?"

"Did you enjoy your tennis game?"

"Oh, it was just meaningless, wasn't it?

It was just..."

It's joyful.

His tips were, "Don't talk about the past.

"Don't discuss the future.

This is just about this moment.

"Just keep saying the words 'spontaneous'

and 'adventure'."

Spontaneous. Adventure.

"Aren't we spontaneous?

What an adventure we've been on today.

"We met today and we spontaneously

decided to be here right now.

"What an adventure it has been,

"and what an adventure

it could continue to be.

"Aren't you spontaneous?

Aren't I spontaneous?

"When was the last time

you did something spontaneous?

"We're so adventurous.

What an adventure this is."

It worked.

He taught me two things that day.

One, some confidence, 'cause why be timid?

Death is coming.

And two, hypnosis.

I feel like now we can just have

anything we want in our lives,

and the only thing to fear is death,

and that's happening anyway.

The real problem, I find,

is that we're getting older,

and we have to be here for that.

I turned 30 last year, and it was

a bit of a crisis leading up to it,

culminating in this.

I was at the theatre and I saw somebody

who turned out to be 18.

Okay? So he was 18. All right? He was 18.

But he was so thin.

And he was with a woman

who turned out to be his mother,

but she, it turned out, was a fan of mine.

So that's good.

She likes my work, I like her son. Great.

Also, I've worked really hard

since about the age of 14

to get to wherever the hell I am today,

so if she's taken any enjoyment

from my work,

I think I've earned her child.

We get talking, and they're delightfully

uber-middle class,

and I'm from Essex, and this feels like

a moment where I've arrived.

We're talking about the play,

we're talking about poetry,

we're having a wonderful time.

I don't like to caricature,

'cause it feels crude and untrue.

I wouldn't say this if it wasn't the case.

He is speaking in that stereotypical way

we imagine posh people speak,

like that sort of, "Fa-fa-fa..."

Like that, "Wa-wa-wa-wa..."

He's actually speaking like that.

Like there's no need for him

to be able to speak,

like his mouth is full of pound coins,

I don't know what it is.

But I'm really having a lovely time

with both of them,

and then after the play

I meet up with just him outside the theatre.

We're sat on the steps of this theatre.

It's about 11:
30 in the evening,

there's a frisson between us,

there's romance in the air,

and then his mother comes around

the corner and I feel awkward.

I think, "Oh, gosh, the mother must love him

and is protective of him."

And she just says to him,

"Okay, goodbye, darling. See you later."

Leaves me with her son.

So I thought, "Well, she's given him to me."

So I took him... Um...

He actually took me to this restaurant

that he knew. It was his area.

We went to this late-night restaurant.

We spoke for two hours.

And he's actually much more mature

than you'd imagine, for 18,

much more intelligent

than you'd imagine, for 18,

and all those other things

that people like me say.

We started meeting up

for these kind of dates.

They weren't defined as such,

but they were essentially dates,

and eventually I invited him back to my flat.

I felt strange and torn about inviting him.

I wasn't sure if it'd be a bit too much for him.

And I'm not very good

at making the first move,

like in terms of the first kiss.

I'm not very good at that.

And I thought I would have to,

'cause I'm the responsible adult here.

And then we were sat

for, like, three hours on my sofa,

just talking and talking,

and I couldn't quite make the move.

I felt just awkward about it,

I wasn't sure what...

And it was hard for him as well,

'cause he's straight, so it was difficult.

But everything is seemingly leading

towards this kiss.

We're edging closer to each other, subtly,

on the sofa.

And at one point, I realised I had to kiss him

because I found myself fiddling with his hair.

And I thought,

"Well, I've got to do the kiss now,"

because that's a precursor to a kiss.

If you don't then do the kiss,

you're just a weirdo who likes hair.

"Oh, it's been lovely

touching your hair this evening."

"Let yourself out."

So I leaned in, and I kissed him on the lips,

and said, "I've just kissed you on the lips."

"Is that okay?"

And he said,

"Oh, yeah, that's fine, that's fine."

And in that moment I won?

I leaned in again, I kissed him again.

I said, "I've just kissed you

on the lips again,"

because kids love repetition.

But really we were having a laugh

about it ourselves.

Like, I kept sort of... You know, I tried to

make it fun. I was making him laugh.

He really liked...

I kept doing, "Who is it? It's me."

He really... He loved that. Loved it.

And actually, it was a really

lovely experience for both of us.

Don't regret any of it. It was like a

wonderful, beautiful, sensual evening,

and there's no...

I don't feel any shame or regret about it.

If there's one thing... There's one thing

that makes me feel slightly odd about it,

and it is that he did describe

what we had done afterwards

as "rumbly-tumbly".

"Well, obviously, a bit nervous at first,

but in the end, lovely bit of rumbly-tumbly."

Now, I... Look, it's not ideal,

being with an 18-year-old.

Nothing we could do about the fact

that he was 18.

Nothing we could do about the fact

that if I'd met him five weeks before,

he would have been 17. Nothing we can do,

nothing the police can do.

No one can do anything.

And I realise now that, as well as it being

a worry about getting older,

it was also an attempt to heal the past.

When I was 18, at that stage

it seemed impossible

to be with another 18-year-old,

so this was a moment of trying to heal

that broken moment from the past.

The great lesson in all of this

came a few months ago.

I'd received a big bill

for something to do with my flat,

and it was really frustrating,

and it felt like an injustice.

It was like this just stupid, boring bill,

and there was nothing I could do about it.

And I was really annoyed by it,

and then I got in this minicab

and started telling the cab driver about it.

He said to me, "Well, is there anything

you can do about this bill?"

And I said, "No, there's nothing I can do.

It's a real injustice."

And he said, "Acceptance."

"What do you mean,

whispering, wise cab driver?"

And he explained so absurdly simply that if

there's nothing you can do about something,

then you do nothing.

And in that moment, the feeling of injustice,

the frustration, it was lifted, it was gone.

There was nothing to do.

I realised I'd made it up.

I'd made it up that it was an injustice,

I'd made up the frustration, it was all a story.

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