Words By: Beth Commons
I don’t even know how to describe this boy. The first thing he said to me when I met him was that he’s “not used to hugs” and that “hugs are weird,” right as I was hugging him. He complained about the seat I’d chosen. “I can’t smoke here.”
We sat at a new table and he smoked his cigarettes. He asked me if I smoked. I said yes and he did not offer me a cigarette.
He asked me if I’d ever tried growing my hair long. I told him yes. He told me it’d look better. I told him I preferred it short. He told me to trust him when he said that it’d look better. I changed the subject.
“so are you like…a lipstick person?” He asked me. Putting extra care into making sure it was with my lipstick smeared lips, I smiled.
He told me that at least I could apply it perfectly and that some girls can’t put on their lipstick for shit. Thank you for this hot knowledge, guy. That was just the ticket.
I asked him if he ever planned on moving out of home.
“I just love my mum so much, she’s my best friend.” Ok, but are you planning on ever moving out of home?
After a few more red wines and his genuinely astounded reaction to my buying him drinks, we took a bus to his house.
I met his mum and she told me that she could have sworn that we’d met before. I told her that there was no way at all that was the case. She was adamant though and I gave in. She then told her son that there were some ribs in the oven for him when he was ready.
He lived in a granny flat out the back of his mum’s house that was covered in rugs. There were rugs covering windows and rugs covering floors. There was a drum kit, record player, and nintendo 64 in his room. His bed was on the floor.
He started smoking weed. He asked me if I smoked. I said yes and he did not offer me any weed.
He then rested his head on my shoulder. It took him about half an hour to actually make a move on me. I was not planning on making any moves on him. Once he did we had short, really high sex.
Then he asked me to leave.