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.
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”, can 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 this guy’s Instagram was the opposite of hot.
It was pure trash.
I expressed my dismay but it was shrugged off.
Liberty. He looked like someone who’d work at Bleach London, and listen to Kaiser Chiefs.
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 band perform, so I wasn’t just about to leave. The question on everyones lips was “why did he invite me out?”
Was this an Curzon x Punkd edition?
Was it some sort of sick dare?
The band was good and I was bought a couple of drinks which semi softened the blows. 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 got the jab”.
“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 venue puffing on Camel Blues, scrolling through WEBmd. For reasons unknown I allowed him to walk around with me which is when he asked me
“Do you want to listen to some music?”
“Didn’t we just hear some?” (scratching my head)
“Can’t we listen to some at yours?”
At MINE? Holy fuck. What did THAT mean? Sleepover on a SUNDAY nite ? A liccckle 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$$! 😉 😉 oi oi
When we arrived at mine, he lay on my bed. So naturally I sat on the other side of the room on the chair by my desk. He said he wanted to listen to music, after all, and my laptop was on my desk. 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 so it went on. Then he said
“Do you know who you really 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.
Woooooooooooow. This was all a bit much. Was he attracted to me now? Was I SO androgynous that it turned him on?
I knew I should’ve have worn my wig.
—TO BE CONTINUED——