Missed it on purpose because he lived in Bermondsey and the night wasn’t finished. Blisters, a stolen espresso martini in a plastic cup, and a sunrise I will absolutely post.
Tag: hangover
Cloakroom Queue Was Criminal
Soho, Saturday, one toilet cubicle with a lock that actually worked. We still managed. I lost an earring and gained a story. The attendant definitely knew. I tipped her anyway.
Walk Of Pride In Daylight
No jacket. His socks. Sunglasses I found in the Uber. A woman with a pram looked at me like I’d invented sin. Morning.
He Brought A Toothbrush
That’s when I knew he’d decided this was more than afters. I hadn’t. I let him stay anyway because the lighting in my room is flattering at 8am and I’m weak.
I Went Back For Keys
Left them in his jacket on purpose. Went back at noon looking wrecked on purpose. He made coffee. I took the keys and a photo of his bookshelf for the blog. Efficient.
We Did It Before Last Orders
Pub toilet. Lock that didn’t work. Someone knocked twice. I said “occupied” like I was booking a meeting room.
The Neighbours Heard Everything Again
Thin walls. Thick voice. I’d apologise if I was sorry. I’m not. They play drum and bass at noon on Sundays, so I consider us even, actually.
Flat Chat Named The Regular
They’ve given him a nickname. I won’t repeat it. It’s accurate. He still thinks he’s mysterious.
I Read His Texts After
Not proud. Also not sorry. His mum, his ex, a booking for two at Dishoom. I screenshotted the Dishoom one for later.
House Party Ended At Breakfast
Someone put porridge on. Someone else was still naked. I wrote half the piece on my notes app between bites.