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The Man with the Pink Scarf

JD and I met in Paris at a bar, and hit it off even though he couldn’t kiss to save his life.

Normally this would’ve been a bin-able offence, but there was there was something about him that I couldn’t shake. Perhaps it was his brown disheveled bob or hideous pink scarf he was wearing that made him hopelessly endearing. He was mysterious but let me know he was a Scorpio (eeky) and wouldn’t tell me what he did for work.

“Work, eet is boring, no?”

The day after we met, things got pretty hot n heavy over text. No, not nudes– videos of him eating steak for dinner and of his son feeding ducks. I told him he looked like Roger Federer, which was a complete lie apart from the fact they both had brown hair.

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oi oi saveloy !!

He clearly got gassed over man like Roger and invited me for “a scoop of pistachio”, then invited me for dinner and when I declined both options, he asked:

“Or… maybe pick my son up from skl?”, as if THIS was the offer I couldn’t refuse. I mean, having to tell my Mom: “BRB going on a date with a 42 year old and his ten year old” didn’t really have the best ring to it!!

SURPRISINGLY

Back in London, we were still sending texts back and forth!! I felt butterflies for the first time in forever… the kind of sick making shit that made me giggle randomly and kiss my pillow goodnight. I didn’t know why, but rode the feeling without stopping to question my sanity. We even FaceTimed, which is rare because I seize up on the phone. But JD made it sound urgent!

When I picked up, his face looked sunken, and a filterless cigarette was hanging out his mouth.

“I’m joost so peesed of. I’m done weez everything.”

“Why? What’s happened?”

“I go to get on ze metro, (drag of cig) and I’m about to get on ze train (drag of cig) and ze doors… zey shut!! And the worst beet is, I knew ze driver and he didn’t do a thing!”

Throwing toys out of pram because of a missed train?

Pull it together my guy!

This incident clearly set him off, because the next day he sent me messages slagging off his Mum. I got a frenzy of WhatsApp screenshots of him begging her for a fiver (s/o to Google Translate). “Why cn’t she just leave the £ under the door??” Crikey! What could I reply: “yh yh, ur Mum’s a rite bitch!!” ??

So, I *ghosted* his ass. 

Until…

TWO DAYS LATER

Once I had had a drink and wanted a bit of attention 😉 

His reply stuck with me.

“I want 2 bite you. Jst need 2 sharpen my teeth.” 

Thought it a bit niche, but perhaps an Edward Cullen in my life was just what the doc ordered!!

One day, I had a “eureka” moment.

“Why don’t I know his full name?” #AliciaKeys

 

I hadn’t even stalked him online, a ritual I take v seriously! 

Also, who the hell is called “JD?”

He gave me the full shebang immediately (bless him), but when I hopped on to Google, nothing came up! Couldn’t even indulge in a cheeky scroll through Linkedin!

Dang. 

My wrists were sore and my eyes were turning to squares- I was about to throw in the towel- when- all of a sudden, I saw an article on Vogue.

It was a feature on a woman with his same, distinct last name and it didn’t take long to clock she was his Gran. Her name is Lily and she was being interviewed in her apartment about her world famous company worth…

 4 billion. 

Now I’m no gold digger but, I mean… if the cow’s tete is there, you’re gunna milk it!!! 😉

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yum!!

I saw my life in gold and it made me feel excited- attending galas decked out in jewels, popping Donny P and spending money like I didn’t like money!!

HE HAD A YOUTUBE??

One thing lead to another and then I stumbled on JD’s Youtube channel. No, he wasn’t doing Hauls or “What I Eat in a Week”, he was playing piano and talking to himself. He username was “Washing Liquid.”

ON FACEBOOK

In all his pictures his face looked as they did on our FaceTime, sunken, like an apple core. 

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schmood

His name was also “Washing Liquid” again, which really started to scream mid life crisis.

Then I saw a video of him and a girl dancing.

JD had a joint in hand and was swaying and singing and then he squeezed the girl and opened his mouth and he had…

he had…

no teeth.

THE NEXT NIGHT

I was in Hackney with my best friends at a gig.

One beer down, I got out my phone and sent, under their recommendation, a text to JD. We decided collectively on something discrete and classy.

“Have u got teeth or nah? 🧐”

STARSTRUCK 

Whilst Outside smoking.

Opposite me were two members of a famous band. I had a huge crush on one of them. 

It was raining heavily. 

Next thing I knew my phone buzzed. It was a FaceTime.

I answered on impulse, not really clocking who it was.

“I told you I have no teeth, no?” JD shouted. He was wearing that pink scarf on a Parisian street.

Band members turned round, throwing me dirty looks. 

“Umm…no you didnt? I…. think I would’ve remembered.” I whispered, trying to lead by example.

“No, I know I deed. Joost afteir you told me your Fatheir is a spy.”

Fair, I thought, and walked back into the gig.

—————————-

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