Once the HOT High School Kid and I parted ways, I did the next logical thing… I started flirting with his best friend, HIP High School Kid. Let’s call him James so things don’t get super confusing. Just like his bestie, James had been the year above me at school, and we bumped into each other again, for the first time in a couple of years, the same night that Hot High School Kid and I re-met. We exchanged numbers but hadn’t used them. Bro code and all that; I was shagging his mate. Well, one shag.
I’m guessing bro code no longer mattered once said bro moved out of the country, because James sent me a text one night, not long after Hot High School Kid left the country:
“Hey, it would be good to catch up soon. Drinks when you’re free?”
I gave less of a shit about bro code than I did girl code back then, so of course I said yes. James was cute. Not exactly my type, even though I didn’t really have a type back then. Or rather, I didn’t know what my type was yet. He was tall, slim, and had floppy brown hair that always fell across his eyes. Hipster emo-esque, I suppose. He listened to bands that I’d never heard of, always had a spare spliff in his canvas cross-body bag, and didn’t really fit in with any of the boy groups. He wasn’t a gym lad, nor was he full emo or metal/rock. He floated between all of the different groups, much like I did. Maybe that’s why we had the connection we did… because we really did have chemistry. It was evident from the very first “Hey, you!”
We drank and flirted, then drank and flirted some more. The more time we spent together, the more I realised: I really liked him. Not just in a sex way. He was interesting, much more than I’d originally thought. Funny, too. I almost didn’t want the night to end.
Eventually, the barmaid called for last orders.
“You could come back to mine?” I offered. “There’s plenty of booze in my kitchen.”
He agreed to my glee, and off we went, back to mine in a taxi. When we got to The Flat, we drank a little more, listened to some music, and caught up on everything that happened in our respective lives since we were at school together. There were lots of laughs, lots of flirtatious little jokes, and lots of prolonged eye contact. All the really good stuff.
Eventually, of course, it was time for us to make our way to the bedroom, kissing and peeling off clothes all the way. I was so excited to get my hands on him, and he seemed just as excited to get his hands on him. It had all the makings of a really great fuck.
But… well… you know that scene in Sex and the City, when Carrie attempts to have sex with Jack Burger for the first time? Well, that’s pretty much how it was for me and the Hip High School Kid: silent, awkward, and downright uncomfortable.
I ripped the first condom. We actually lost the second one for a hot minute. We couldn’t agree on who would go on top, then we couldn’t vet things to fit right. Our bodies just weren’t designed for each other. I don’t even think he came, no I most definitely didn’t.
I never called or text him again. Nor did he contact me.
I appeared to be on a roll of very bad sex.
Maybe, just maybe, fucking everything in sight wasn’t the best strategy to a getting over the ex-boyfriend who’d broken my heart.
Who’d have thought it?
The next blog post in the dating timeline is this one: Number 15: The Lapdog.
Thanks so much for reading my blog today! 🖤
You can read all about my disastrous dating history, right from the beginning, right here: Table of Dating Contents.
Alternatively, why not have a little peek around here:
