Red wine, someone else’s jacket, and a dent I cannot explain to the landlord. We flipped the cushion. Classic.
Tag: flatmates
Sophie Heard The Lot
Thin walls, worse timing. I wasn’t quiet and she wasn’t asleep. Next morning she just slid a Tesco meal deal under my door like a peace offering. We still haven’t discussed it. Peak.
Queue For Pret Became Therapy
Two girls I didn’t know asked why I was in last night’s dress at 8am. I told them. They bought my coffee. Community.
He Asked To Stay Over
They always ask once the lights are off. I said yes because the alternative was the night bus and I’m not a masochist. Sophie heard the kettle at 6.
Voice Note Hit The Group
Meant for Mia. Landed in the flat chat. Full recap of who did what in the disabled loo at Fabric. Sophie reacted with a single thumbs-down. Silence after that.
He Was The Photographer
Worked the door at a private members thing in Mayfair, then somehow ended up in my kitchen at five. Mia took a photo. I told her to delete it. She didn’t.
He Left His Watch Behind
Look, I only noticed at noon. Nice watch too. Sophie clocked it before I did and now the whole flat wants a name, a rating, and whether he’s coming back for it.
Afters With No Speakers
Ended up in a warehouse kitchen in Hackney Wick, twelve people, one Bluetooth dying, someone’s Deliveroo arriving at 6am. I still call it a party. Sophie calls it a cry for help.
He Called Me By Her Name
I still finished. Then I told him. Then I put it in the blog. Honesty is my vice, remember?
I Ghosted Him Mid Sentence
He started explaining tokenomics at 1am. I went to the loo and just… left. Peak self-care. Also peak content.