Soundtrack: Incredible by M-Beat feat. General Levy.
Warning: Features recreational drug use.
I went off the rails a bit, post-Him & Her. They broke my heart, quite frankly. Brutally, too. Time alone meant time to think… and time to cry. That’s all I’d done for a while. Bestie was more than concerned; well, when he wasn’t gloating. “I told you so” had came out of his mouth at least once or twice (or five times,) and I couldn’t even argue with him. He was right. He was always right. But, in all honesty, I needed a break from him, too. And that’s how come I found myself bumping into The Boy On Pills.
Number 19
I’d gone out with a different group of friends than usual, in a different bar than usual, leaving Bestie and my ‘regular’ friends to their own devices. They were too restrictive, too suffocating, too much. Bestie most definitely was. I needed freedom. Freedom to flirt, get drunk, and act like the massive dickhead that I was. I needed it, to get over Grey, and The Girl I Can’t Forget, and what they did.
I needed something new.
“NotSo, is that you?” a voice said.
I turned around and came face-to-face with a boy from high school. We weren’t friends, or anything. In fact, we barely spoke to each other. He was one of the cool boys… and I wasn’t cool at all. I was weird, and I didn’t fit in.
But a fair few years had passed since we were at high school together. And to be quite honest, he was hot now.
“Hi!” I said, giving him a big hug. “How are you? You look good!”
Like so, so many of my dating tales, our first drink together sealed the deal. We were, essentially, joined at the hip until last orders, at which point he invited me back to his place. I jumped at the invitation. Perhaps getting under a new cute boy would help me to get over those other cute boys and one cute girl?
The Boy On Pills
We were barely inside his parents’ house when he pulled a small bag out of his pocket, filled with pastel-coloured tablets. “Want one?”
I peered into the bag. “What are they?”
“Es,” he answered, popping one in his mouth. “You’ll have fun, I promise.”
I might’ve been a bit of a dickhead back then, especially when I was drinking, but taking a dangerous-sounding drug for the first time with a boy that I’d barely spent a couple of hours with, didn’t seem like the best idea in the world. So, I shook my head no, then helped myself to bottles of beer from his kitchen.
[Later reflection: Well done, me, for not taking pills with that cute boy! If only I’d been that smart on any number of other twatty-decision-filled nights, too.]
Fifteen minutes later, we were in his bedroom. I almost giggled with glee when he took me by the hand and led me up the stairs… but my excitement was short lived. Rather than undressing and taking me to his bed, The Boy On Pills took more pills, then started plugging in what appeared to be DJ decks.
Surely not, I thought to myself. It was around three in the morning. His parents were home. I knew that because The Boy On Pills warned me to be quiet as we tiptoed up the stairs.
To my surprise, he started loudly playing a track with some serious drum beats, then flicked, wiggled, and danced his fingers across the deck. I’m quite sure that I was stood there with my mouth wide open, waiting for his mum or dad to angrily bang on the door and kick me out. That never happened, though. I assumed they were quite used to his Friday and Saturday night shenanigans at that point, or they were deaf. Either was possible.
For a good couple of hours, I sat on the edge of his bed, bopping my head, pretending to give a shit about whatever DJ-related shit he shouted above the heavy jungle-slash-DnB music. I considered just walking out and going home at one point, but I’d come too far to go back now. I was going to shag that cute boy from high school if my life depended on it.
Eventually, around six in the morning, The Boy On Pills stopped taking pills and finally dragged me to bed, where we had three-and-a-half minutes of jackhammer-style sex and absolutely no foreplay. I didn’t come, obviously. I don’t even think he did. He fell asleep almost instantly afterwards, and I crept out of his house and into a taxi before anyone could blame me for the early-hours Ibiza DJ set.
Honestly, I didn’t expect the night to go down like that. I was more depressed afterwards than I had been before. What a waste of a number on my list. Fuck, that was barely even sex. Does it even really count?!
The next blog post in the dating timeline is this one: I Fell in Love With a Stripper.
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: