ERROL PARKER | Editor-at-large | Contact
There was only one wedding invitation on his fridge in January, now there’s seven.
It’s not because Jack Regent is particularly popular, nor is he being dragged kicking and screaming to them. The 31-year-old has seven wedding invitations on his fridge because he’s 31-years-old.
But that’s not phasing Jack, because he’s still a bit of a mad dog. Every wedding he’s been to, the boys always look to him to organise the bags of Nosé and some valium for the next day.
He’s a loose unit.
However, as all of his friends begin to settle down around him, the term deposit specialist has started wondering if his hedonism is still legendary – or are his mates starting to feel sorry for him?
“Look, mate. If I was 29 still, I’d still be going to these weddings, getting blind and leaving hotel rooms looking like a painter’s radio,” he said.
“But the reality is I’m not getting any younger… and what I do twice a week, half the boys would be lucky to do twice a year now. It’s pretty grim. But I’m not sure if it’s getting grim for me or getting grim for them. Know what I mean?”
“I do get these moments of clarity, like when I’m having nose beers in a nightclub toilet on a Thursday night. Walking out of the cubical and look at myself in the mirror, I’m like, ‘What the fuck are you doing with your life? You haven’t called your parents in over a month? You’re a fucking monster’ but then I just chalked it up to being really high on drugs and shrug it off.”
For now, Mr Regent says he’s content with being a grub, but looks to try being a coupled poon in years to come.