Dylan

Dylan is a strange one. He simultaneously knows what he wants, and is very shy. He sometimes speaks about sex, but with a kind of near-Buddhist reverence and a sage detachment that makes you wonder if he might not be confusing it with biblical exegesis. He has old-fashioned morals, or maybe he’s ahead of his time and they’re actually post-modern. I don’t know quite what they are. There’s a bit of guilt in there for sure, so they might be traditional after all. He shies away from vulgarity. He has an almost eastern respect for the body. He is quiet and reserved and will immediately turn his nose up at any particularly candid information with a hearty ‘that’s awful’.

That’s one of the reasons I like to subject Dylan to whatever particularly sordid thing that comes to mind. The other is that he’s one of those rare, few people who won’t really think any less of you afterwards. I like to be honest with Dylan. As long as you can put up with being told that whatever else it may be it’s also awful, then you’re in the clear with him. I like that.

Dylan has a strange way with women, who will fall into his arms at a moment’s notice, usually in a manner that hinders but does not preclude romance. In second year he met a girl called Joanne, who was obviously the spawn of Highlanders and hippies. She was from so far up North that English might have been her second language. 

There was a long lull period before they actually hit it off, although the point of no return probably came not too far into the semester.

However, Dylan did not Beast Joanne. Certainly he didn’t Beast her at this stage, and then he didn’t Beast her later either, because Dylan was above Beasting anyone.