We never use real names. This week he’s “Mayfair Suit.” Last week he was “Wrong Uber.” Sophie clocked the pattern. Said I need a hobby that isn’t collecting aliases. Rude. Accurate.
Tag: hookups
Sunday Roast Turned Into Gossip
One bottle in and suddenly everyone’s ex has a name, a job, and a disappointing bedroom habit. I contributed. Obviously. I’m not going to sit there looking saintly.
Flatmates Rated The Walk-Ins
Scorecards on the fridge. Marks for height, exit time, whether they made tea. Last night’s got a 6. Harsh but fair.
We Ranked Last Night’s Men
Sunday, hangovers, full English, and a whiteboard. Cruel? Maybe. Accurate? Deadly. One of them is already texting and I haven’t decided if that’s peak or useful.