He Hates Me – He Loves Me Not

I remember the first time I saw him, my first week of uni (on stage drinking a funnel of his own urine) he didn’t notice me at first (thank god. I stalked him round the bar saying ‘I want to eat him’) but after a couple of weeks I was soon on his radar (chasing him round the bar, shouting ‘I want to eat him’)

He got on so well with my friends (he tried to finger most of them) but I didn’t mind (I threw my best friend in a bush when he added her on Facebook)

He wasn’t exactly boyfriend material (because he was already someone elses’ boyfriend) But that didn’t phase me (I still locked him in my room and stole his trousers) 

There were times when we wouldn’t speak (he never spoke to me) which made it really difficult (really awkward after I stole his trousers) But my friends were always there to comfort me (whilst stood on the street throwing the stolen trousers through his bedroom window – my friend Jenna looked on; ‘you are so embarrassing, why am I friends with you’)

I think back on the times we shared (he once did a large fart post sex and held my head under the duvet). Such bliss (I nearly passed out)

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