Leave him, kissing people when you are drunk is not a good excuse. He still would have been aware of what he was doing, most likely.
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my boyfriend has kissed 2 girls when drunk watch
- 14-06-2016 12:26
(Original post by Anonymous)
- 14-06-2016 13:13
You are fundamentally wrong. And he's why:
Spoiler:ShowIf you stroll past Itsu or KFC on Cornmarket Street on a wintry night, and head down towards the Carfax, it's not hard to notice that underneath the bright and candescent lights are shadowy figures crouched on the floor, shivering through the cold. If you're not too late (i.e. when Tesco is still open), you may notice a man singing "Knockin' on Heavens' Door" right next to McDonalds, with a few burger wrappers scattered around him as he sings the same old tune with a guitar of which strings often don't work very well. And the guitar's off-pitch too.If you take a leftwards turn and head down High Street after 01:30, you would notice that beneath large, normally shiny billboards and next to glamorous nightclub entrances, a few homeless figures would be lying down with blankets covered over their ears and eyes, surreptitiously trying to breathe their way through until dawn. Continue along High Street, and you will observe that in between the Oxford University Press Store and the Shop where really fancy subfuscs are bought and made, a few unkempt individuals would often be fighting over whose cardboard belongs to whom, etc. And sometimes they'd be picking at the rubbish bins near All Bar One, with a healthy mixture of leftovers and yesterday's scraps if they're lucky.And you'd think that in 21st century England, under the allegedly working capitalism that drives the economy, homelessness would not be an issue. And you'd also think, as Waldron puts it aptly, that people can only have basic dignities and rights when they have at least some form of spatial areas that they can claim to be their own, where they hold some right to exclude and prevent others from using their spaces. And finally - you'd think that these homeless individuals, as politicians have promised again and again, can "seek refuge" and "find help" by calling the police or dialling the community centre.A few weeks ago, I was on my way to Spoons (7-8pm-ish) when I walked past a homeless individual on George Street. Turned out he had had some sort of cardiac arrest and lost his pulse - an ambulance had just arrived, and the man was being transported onto a stretcher. He was comatose. Last Friday, I was walking past the benches outside Trinity with a few friends (after C&C), and saw a drunken, homeless man sprawled over a bench, sleeping in his own vomit.And the irony is - the ways in which we talk about and discuss the "Homeless" as a homogenous Other, is essentially but a way of imagining and constructing these individuals as hapless, helpless, hopeless objects of observation, subjects of speculation, recipients of pity, and the inevitable "side effects" of "economic prosperity". Behind every face there is a story, and behind every story there is a history. But for a vast majority of us, we see the Homeless as merely the apology, "Sorry, I have no change left." when we are waiting for a kebab at Hassans, or the excuse, "I don't have any money with me, sorry." whilst walking along High Street, or maybe the I-will-imagine-that-you-do-not-exist-whilst-I-hold-my-champaign-bottle-until-I-get-into-this-club-and-you-will-be-gone thought. (NB: I have never clubbed before at Oxford... or in my life, for that matter.)I have haunted by a surreally beguiling thought lately. I normally walk past homeless individuals sitting passively on the floor, and would try and make eye contact with them as I place down a few pennies or the odd quid - nothing that would make me go bankrupt, but presumably a relatively important sum for them. Yet whenever I'm approached by someone jogging or walking after me, asking for the donation, I find myself instinctively shocked and reluctant to contribute towards them - I would always turn my eyes away, and think, "Not my business; not my fault; find someone else... please?"And tonight, after some bizarre introspection, I have realised why I have been unable to look into the eyes of those who come walking towards me, asking for cash. It is because of shame. I find myself ashamed: too ashamed to look into the eyes of the men and women who have come up to me and begged: Begged the accomplices who have engendered their downfall by being passive bystanders; begged the system who has told them to **** off during the daylight and come out at night; begged the criminals who would only spare mercy if they see people sitting on the ground, submitting themselves in spatially inferior, physically subjugated positions to those who take pride in pitying them. The truth of the matter is - it "feels good" to be in control, to be able to decide when and how you give away your wealth, to savour the warm glow as you play the game of the Capitalist Benefactor who pretends to give a ****. But who really, in reality, doesn't.And the reality is - it doesn't have to be this way. The Oxford bubble doesn't have to be an oligarchic reality that props up archaic laws and sustains political inertia; it doesn't have to be used to justify the coercive force deployed against individuals who lack the ability to access some sort of decent homes; modern capitalism doesn't have to be this way at all - and there are many better ways to deal with this problem than resorting to anti-capitalist narratives and economic ideologies.If we have enough money (yes, myself included) to queue for ages to get into a club named after a purple sea creature or binge-drink ourselves at fancy, fancy cellars - I daresay we have the time and monetary ability to contribute, if only just a little, to tackling homelessness - in Oxford, in Britain, and abroad. And I don't think a vast majority of us (myself included, again!) can come clean from this - it is natural to ignore an Other that is so close but so direly different, so real but so unrealistically vexing. We're all humans.But perhaps the world would become a better place if we could just put aside our intuitive defences and force ourselves to confront the reality that we - in all honesty - really wouldn't need to do.*I must apologise for the lack of cohesion in this post. It is more of a cathartic rant than a serious sociological critique.