Previously in this series: If Harrison Ford Were Your Boyfriend. We recently featured The Fug Girls on writing as a duo.
If Prince Harry were your boyfriend, he would, in secret, change his listing in your phone all the time. You’d have added him in simply as “H,” but one day you’d get a text from someone called “Henry IX.” And then a whole chain of them: “H. Balls,” “Jack the Zipper,” “Codpiece von Rodgerer,” and most awkwardly of all, “Prince Andrew.”
Prince Harry would order takeout a lot. You would always end up paying for it, because he doesn’t have a credit card, and he’d promise to pay you back and then never would because he also never has any cash.
If Prince Harry were your boyfriend, on Sundays he would taste like rugby and Guinness. You wouldn’t mind. He would also live primarily in Adidas track pants. The sound of them rustling when he walks would only bother you when he paces anxiously during Game of Thrones.
If Prince Harry were your boyfriend, fancy dress parties would be a tender subject. “Granny set the corgis on me after the last one,” he would mope. “Look, I have the scar.” You would not be sympathetic.
If Prince Harry were your boyfriend, there would be a surprising amount of Puppetry of the Penis. He would start on a lark after a night out at the pub — it’s 2 a.m., you’re snacking on packets of Prawn Cocktail crisps in bed, and he decides to make you laugh by making a “prawn cocktail” genital shadow puppet just because he liked the pun. But then another night there would be a rabbit hopping along. Maybe a horse. And then, just straight-up wang origami. A sailboat, Dracula, Margaret Thatcher. After a while you’d ask him exactly how many times he’s seen that show. “What show?” he would say, blankly, tilting his head to the side. “This is just how we spent Sundays at Eton.”
If Prince Harry were your boyfriend, you would be reminded that the tongue is a muscle, and it can indeed get sore.
If Prince Harry were your boyfriend, he would sometimes steal William’s Knight of the Garter costume and ask you to play The Tudors with him. You would never be able to look a turkey leg again. It would be worth it.
If Prince Harry were your boyfriend, Bea and Eugenie would talk about Cressida Bonas in front of you. A lot. It would start out small, but then suddenly they’d be waxing rhapsodic about the way Cressy’s hair smells — like vanilla and strawberries — and some apocryphal-sounding story about how she once used a scrunchie to save a dog’s life. Harry wouldn’t notice your discomfort until you’d had a few too many pints, but while you ralph into some Buck House porcelain, Harry would whisper tenderly, “I don’t even like hair that smells like food.”
Prince Harry would prank call people from your bed all the time — old schoolmates, distant relations. David Cameron. You’d find out months later that they were all international long-distance calls. “Wait. Isn’t the telephone free?” he would ask, before offering, semi-seriously, to invade British Telecom and make the bill go away. But then the bill would go away.
Prince Harry would never assume you are too dim to understand or appreciate sports, and you would appreciate that he’s not a stereotypical retrograde doucheface about that. He would find it totally normal that you own a team jersey, and there would be no quizzes to see if you can back that shit up, and no insulting discussions about how American football should be called handsball — except for one time when you wore your jersey to bed, and he turned that particular joke into an elaborate piece of foreplay.
If Prince Harry were your boyfriend, one day he would turn to you and say, “I’d like to take this to the next level. I want to introduce you to… my pet goat, Bridget. Wear your best hat. She’s very particular.”
If Prince Harry were your boyfriend, he’d occasionally go on furtive outings by himself, always lying badly about his destination (because you know he is never actually off to the library). “I’ve been visiting Bridget without you,” he would confess at last. “I just don’t think you quite clicked. She didn’t think your hat was sincere.”
If Prince Harry were your boyfriend, eventually you’d have an argument about why you hadn’t met David Beckham yet. He would make a lot of ball jokes in his excuses — Harry would have a ball joke ready for any situation — before shoving his hands in his pockets and saying petulantly, “I barely even know Beckham, all right? He’s actually William’s friend. Is that what you wanted to hear?” Two days later he would return from his tantrum with a copy of Bend It Like Beckham because he thought it was a kind of soccer Kama Sutra.
If Prince Harry were your boyfriend, the makeup sex would be scorchingly hot. But also sometimes scorchingly quick.
If Prince Harry were your boyfriend, you would give in one night and filch his phone while he slept — passcode: 24601 — so that you could write down Ryan Lochte’s number. Just in case. It’s not disloyal, or anything. It’s just practical. You might need to ask him about breaststroking someday.
Prince Harry would turn out to be a sleepwalker. You’d often find him standing in the living room brushing the air with a dopey smile on his face. “I’m washing an elephant, Dad,” he would tell you. “Tell Bridget I’ll call her later.”
If Prince Harry were your boyfriend, he’d talk about his latest project for the Chelsea Flower Show for hours and hours. Mostly this is charming, but sometime — like when you point out that you really like the azalea section — it will cause him great agita. “What is that clod thinking,” he’d mutter, erasing so vigorously that he tears a hole in his blueprints. “Everyone knows you can’t put azaleas there.”
If Prince Harry were your boyfriend, he would occasionally try to use your cleavage as a toast rack.
If Prince Harry were your boyfriend, you’d get a rapid increase in Facebook friend requests from people you were pretty sure hated you in high school. You would never accept, but you’d poke them regularly just to be irritating.
If Prince Harry were your boyfriend, he’d ask very innocently if he could please have a turn poking your old classmates.
If Prince Harry were your boyfriend, you would have to sit through so many Michael Bay movies. You would unintentionally learn all the words to The Day After Tomorrow (“Our environment is in a terrible state. My father says this is practically a documentary”) and one day, you’d catch him sniffling over Pearl Harbor. He would pretend he was crying with mirth at Ben Affleck’s cheesy highlights, but you’d both know the truth.
Prince Harry would get extremely defensive every time you mention how much you love Ron Weasley. As a gesture of love, you’d remove “Roonil Wazlib” as the name of your wireless router.
If Prince Harry were your boyfriend, you’d notice that he moves your hand every time your fingers drift toward his hair. You would be more amused by this tic than anything, until the day you caught him in the bathroom using your brush to tease up the stuff in the back. “Hang in there, old boy,” he’d say to himself, with a flutter of trepidation in his tone.
If Prince Harry were your boyfriend, he would answer the door one day to the mail carrier who reads all your magazines and then delivers them late, with coffee stains. You would get them early every week hence.
If Prince Harry were your boyfriend, you’d be the last people to leave any party you attended, but he’d always give you a piggyback out to the car.
If Prince Harry were your boyfriend, he would tell you that you looked hot in whatever you were wearing and you would be able to tell that he sincerely meant it, which would both be gratifying and also make you wonder if maybe he had Outfit Blindness.
If Prince Harry were your boyfriend, you’d just have to accept the fact that Vegas was off the table as a weekend jaunt, like, forever.
If Prince Harry were your boyfriend, you would discover he has what he calls a Fucket List, comprising all the places in the UK where he wants to nail someone. You would be really into the Hampton Court hedge maze idea, until he would shift in his seat and say, “Er, meant to cross that one off. I’ve lost three people and four pairs of trousers in there.”
Prince Harry would also have a Shitler List, tracking all the things he needs to do as compensation to his grandmother for that aforementioned ugly Nazi costume incident. It would in fact be a binder, refreshed once a month for the past decade, with no end in sight. He’d whinge occasionally about youthful stupidity and the power of forgiveness, but you would just raise your eyebrow at him in stony silence, and he’d go back to reading Sensitivity Training for Dummies.
If Prince Harry were your boyfriend, you finally would know whether or not Kate Middleton has hair extensions.
If Prince Harry were your boyfriend, you might one day find a lock of that aforementioned hair tucked away in a souvenir porcelain box with a rose on top that he claims was a gift from his grandmother.
If Prince Harry were your boyfriend, you would never tell him about this discovery, because whatever, marriage is not in the cards with this one anyway. Why end it before its time? Just enjoy the ride. So to speak.
OMG!!!!! This is so awesome!! i LOVE it so much!!!!!
„He was driven by his hunger to learn to constantly top himself to be the best. He was the consummate student. He studied the greats and became greater. He raised the bar and then broke the bar. His talent and creativity thrust him and entertainment into another stratosphere. The Motown family mourns the death of our friend and brother Michael Jackson who was like a son to me. Our deep condolences go out to all his family, his parents; Joe, Katherine, his beautiful children, his sisters and brothers and his nieces and nephews. Michael Jackson was 10 years old when he and his brothers auditioned for me in Motown in Detroit that July day in 1968, and blew us all away. The Jackson 5 were just amazing, and little Michael’s performance was way beyond his years. This little kid had an incredible knowingness about him. He sang with such feeling and inspiration. Michael had a quality that I couldn’t completely understand but we all knew he was special. Aside from singing and dancing like James Brown and Jackie Wilson, he sung a Smokey Robinson song called Who’s Lovin’ You. He sang it with the sadness and passion of a man who’d been living the blues and heartbreak his whole life. And as great as Smokey sang it, I thought Michael was better. I went to Smokey and said hey man I think he got you on that one. Smokey said me too. That was Motown. Motown was built on love and competition and sometimes the competition got in the way of the love but the love always won out. We competed on everything. And California we had a baseball game every week, the Jacksons vs. the Gordy’s. Unfortunately for us, Tito and Jackie were big homerun hitters. They would knock the ball out of the park. But then so was my son Barry and I’m not going to tell you who won most of the games but I will tell you that the Gordy’s cried a lot. And even though little Michael was the catchers for the Jackson’s and missed a lot of balls we still cried a lot. But we swam and we joked and we played games and when Michael performed his songs you could feel the hipness in his soul because that’s what he loved to do. Michael inspired me so much that for days I walked around humming a bright little happy tune with him in mind…then I put a group together and we came up with 4 hit records for them, I Want You Back, ABC, The Love You Save and I’ll Be There. The Jackson 5 was the only group in history to have their first 4 records go to number 1. In 1983 the brothers reunited and returned to do Motown 25th anniversary show. After a high powered dazzling melody of their songs Michael took the stage alone and made pop history. From the first beat of Billie Jean, I was mesmerized. And when he did his iconic moonwalk, I was shocked. It was magic. Michael Jackson went into orbit, and never came down. At 10 years old, he had passion. He had passion to be the greatest entertainer in the world and he was willing to work as hard to do whatever it took to become what he indeed became the undisputed King of Pop, the world over. What kid wouldn’t give his right arm to fulfill his wildest childhood dreams? Michael loved it all, every moment on stage, every moment in rehearsal. Michael loved creating what have never been done before. He loved everything and everybody especially his fans. I must say though that he did have two personalities. Offs stage he was shy, soft spoken and childlike, but when he took the stage in front of his screaming fans he turned into another person. A master, a take no prisoner show man. It was like kill or be killed. I mean Michael was awesome, totally in charge. In fact the more I think about Michael Jackson, the more I think The King of Pop is not big enough for him. I think he is simply the greatest entertainer that ever lived. Michael, thank you for the joy. Thank you for the love. You will live in my heart forever. I love you.”
“I’m so glad you came!”
You’d been standing at the party by yourself for awhile, after your friends had ditched you early on and you couldn’t find the reason why you had even showed up in the first place. Now Luke had mysteriously appeared after you’d been searching for what seemed like hours.
“I said I would, didn’t I?”
“Yeah, can I get you something to drink?” He shifted from foot to foot, your greeting had been a little colder then you had planned
“Actually, I think I’m gonna leave soon, this isn’t my scene.”
“No you can’t leave yet! I just found you…” Luke pouted his lip at you
“I’ve been here for hours though.” You crossed your arms over your chest
Luke huffed and scanned the room quickly before grabbing your hand “Come with me, then after that I’ll walk you back to your dorm.”
He expertly weaved his way through the crowd while dragging you along after him. He slipped through the patio door and into the back yard, a wave of freezing air hitting your bare arms and face. You instantly pulled your wrist out of his hand to wrap you arms around your body, you definitely weren’t dressed for the weather.
“Oh shit, right,” Luke slipped his flannel off and wrapped it around your shoulders “Better?” He asked
You nodded graciously and followed him out to the lawn. Despite everyone inside being drunk, even they were smart enough to choose to party inside, you and Luke were the only people outside. A pair of lawn chairs sat in the cold grass waiting for the two of you and you mentally prepared yourself for the freezing gift your bum was about to receive. Luke sat down in the seat beside you, not really noticing the cold due to the fact he was wearing jeans. Cringing, you pulled the flannel tighter around you, willing the seat to warm up beneath you.
“I like to come out here and think sometimes, its so much quieter then being with the others. Plus those idiots never think of looking out here for me.”
“It’s… nice.” You commented
“I didn’t really plan out the weather really well tonight, I promise it’s a lot better when it’s not freezing balls outside.”
You laughed at his lame joke and he smiled at you.
He pointed to the sky as a cloud floated out of the way and revealed a starry night above you. The both of you tilted your heads back against the chairs and stared at the sky for a long time, despite the cold, it really was beautiful and peaceful outside, even with the loud music from the house still playing. After awhile of sitting in silence, Luke interrupted
“I should probably walk you back to your dorm now so you don’t catch hypothermia and die, that would make a shitty first date.”
“So this is a date now?”
He smirked at you before taking your hand