Fight Night

Last summer I was in Paris. My friend and I had a night we’ll never forget.

The bar in Pigalle

had dark blue walls dotted with small silver sequins.
For a second it made me feel I was at the planetarium but
then I remembered we were at a bar. 

Jess and I were the only ones in there, apart from the bartender-
a Mr.Tumnus looking geezer, who maintained a strict:

“No! No drinks aohht-seed!”
policy with us, which was especially jarring considering it was a cruel 34c. 

Surviving a Shit Show: Pt 2

Needless to say I wasn’t killed in a satanic ritual. (read pt 2 here)

Instead, Black Hair and I were kissing on the stairwell outside his grandparent’s flat.
Each kiss left me dizzy and I was waiting for it to get boring but it never did, so I reached for his belt to unbuckle but he swatted me away.

At 6am, as I was leaving, he remarked:

“I have blue balls.”
On the Uber ride home I wondered if he was gay, or if he wanted to take things “slow” which is pretty much the same thing.