Not as a trophy. As proof I didn’t invent him. Sophie asked why there’s a clipper on the windowsill that isn’t ours. I said it was Mia’s. Mia said it was mine.
Tag: soho
Peckham Roof Was A Mistake
Beautiful at midnight. Tragic at 4am. Someone’s cousin DJ’d, the wine was warm, and I snogged a man whose name I still cannot spell. Classic, really.
Hackney Wick At Half Four
The night bus felt like a confession booth. I told a stranger what I’d just done. He said “safe”. Very London.
I Took Him To Tesco
Walk of whatever. We needed water and I needed concealer. He held the basket like we were married. I let him. It made the fluorescent lighting less tragic.
Members Club Then Sticky Floor
Started at 22. Ended in a basement where the floor pulled my heels off. That’s the London arc and I refuse to skip either half.
Night Bus Confessional Went Viral
I tweeted one line. Forty people asked for the rest. Fine. Here’s the rest, names changed, details not.
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.
Afterparty Toilet Full Of Stories
Three girls in a cubicle at 4am swapping who they’d just left in the main room. Names, positions, who came, who didn’t. I wrote it down in Notes. Gold.
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.
Why I Never Delete Hinge
Everyone’s pretending they’re done with apps. I’m not. It’s research. Also I get bored on the District line and some of these boys write like they’ve never met a woman. Useful.