Nothing but your Boxers

This year was a pretty uneventful year in terms of men, which was great.

It meant that for the most part, I wasn’t complaining to my friends and constantly checking my phone for messages.

I did go on a date with a guy who was cute in a dishevelled way, who I had had a horrible crush on for three years.


Everything started off like most my dates do-
me asking all of the questions and not getting much back.
Suddenly, things took an interesting turn when he announced he was flirting with a dude via text.

“Wow – may I see a picture?”

was my impulsive reply, whilst wearing one of those frantic fake smiles that you can see straight through.
I’m pretty sure at least one tooth popped out which is rare because I hate my teeth.

In a “here’s one I did earlier” style, he got out the dude’s Instagram, becoming all animated and giddy
which made me feel energised and confused.
What did me in was that the Instagram was the opposite of hot…

It was pure trash!

The guy looked like someone who’d work at Bleach London, and wear onesies to sleep.

I expressed my dismay but it was shrugged off.

The candour really needed to be thrown in the bin when I then got:

“I’m surprised you’re straight because I assumed you were gay.”

I thought about that track
How Do You Get Up From An All Time Low
by The Wanted.
(what happened to them?)

We were due to see a French film, so I wasn’t just about to leave.

The question on everyones lips was why did he invite me out?

Was this a Curzon x Punkd edition?

Was it some sort of sick dare?

The film was basically a porno, and during we sat with our arms crossed and afterwards he had the cheek to say

“I had a boner during the whole film.”

An hour later, and I was kind of drunk and ill at the same time, with a throat filled with saw dust and a crusty nose. I was desperate to amp up my sex appeal in this midst of all this chaos, so I decided to talk about my flu.


“COR my glands feel swollen, tell you that for free!”

“If your glands are swollen you could have HPV.”

(Ring ring hello, it’s NHS hotline how may I help you? 🙂

“To be honest… I never did get the jab…”

“Yep. There you go. You probably have it then.”

Probably have it?
Fuckin ‘eck.
That isn’t something to be tossing around so lightly, boyo.
One comment away from an anxiety attack, I left the cinemapuffing on Camel Blues, scrolling through WebMD. For reasons unknown I allowed him to walk around with me which is when he asked

“Do you want to listen to some music?”

“I’m not sure of any gigs on tonight…” (scratching my head)

“Can’t we listen to some at yours?”

What did that mean?
Sleepover on a Sunday nite?
A bit audacious if you ask me.

So, naturally I said

“Yes ok sure.”

I called up my flatmate and asked if he had any weed but he just laughed it off.
No, this request wasn’t for me, it was for my guest, who I thought might be slightly more
human after a couple tokes of the Devil’s Gra$$! 😉 😉


When we arrived at mine, he lay on my bed.  I sat on the other side of the room on the chair by my desk.
He said let’s

“Listen to some music.”

A bit bloody demanding!!!

So I started playing music from one of my many Spotify playlists (this is not an Ad).
He’d show me a song, I’d show him a song, he’d show me a song, I’d show him a song,
and on it went.
Then he stared at me deeply and said:

“Do you know who you reaally look like?”

“Dunno, who?” (flipping my hair)

“This guitarist from this rock band…he really looks like you”

I turned away to compose myself and when I turned back around he was in nothing but his boxers.


Liked this?? Why not read :Surviving a Shit Show? 

Published by Never Pure, Rarely Simple

The truth is... Never Pure and Rarely Simple.

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