Professional

Professional, that’s what he should be, X tells me, a professional. He should approach his life in a professional manner, manage his time properly. He should start writing on his calendar, get a diary, get up early, shave, dress sharply, have breakfast, take responsibility, behave as if he’s under the public eye, as if the media might come through the door at any minute. Maybe he should get a PA, he says. Who needs a girlfriend if you have a PA? He should imagine his life under public scrutiny, because isn’t that what being professional means? he asks. He should consider the public eye like a professional, stop brooding and masturbating, be accountable, consider the eyes of public accountability, be an adult, promote profit and productivity, that’s obviously the right path. In essence, he should get some self-respect, he says, without self-respect how does he expect others to respect him? he asks. You certainly don’t get a girlfriend without self-respect, or if you do she’s bound to be bad news, he says, you’ll get taken advantage of if you’re not professional. What kind of girlfriend would you get if you’re not professional? An unprofessional one. And does he expect to live in a one-bedroom flat all his life? If he were more professional he could buy a house, get a mortgage and stop yapping at me all the time, he says. Who am I anyway, he says, that I should take up so much of his time, please, he says, give me a bit of space, I’m making plans, I’m trying to be professional and professionalism means self-respect. He should start wearing a suit, X says.