We’d been on some dates (one date), but he’d become a little distant since our initial few (again one), however I was not deterred (and continued to sit uncomfortably close to him in the library).
It was a Wednesday night, I looked great (I was practically naked) my friends were a little hesistant (‘Debbie, your skirt is shorter than your pants’). But I knew he wouldn’t be able to resist me (being as long as a giraffe, few can avoid me)
I reached the first bar and bought the usual (I bought a shot, chased it with a vodka/coke and walked away with a glass of wine) he wasn’t there, I wasn’t that fussed (‘Guys this bar is shite, lets go to a different one’) we continued drinking and dancing (going to the toilet and seeing when he was last active on all forms of communication)
I came home a little disheartened (completely distraught ‘he’s blatently shagging another girl’) and told my friends the situation (‘Debbie, just go to bed’) I listened to my friends and went to bed (I ignored my friends and left the house), they always know what’s best (‘I can hear her heels going down the street, she will never learn’)
I woke feeling refreshed (confused and in his room, alone) ready to face the new day (already wishing it was over; I had broken into his house, discovered his bed empty and fallen asleep in it until 7am the following day) I quickly got ready and left (and projectile vomited on his front lawn)
My housemates were really understanding about the situation (‘you’re a fucking idiot – did anyone see you?’) I explained it was all fine (hope not, there’s vomit on the doorstep) . My friend later explained he had actually gone home to his parents (hindsight – would of been useful to know this before I broke into his home)
We all vowed to keep it quiet so he would never find out (my friend broke this vow and wrote it in the yearbook)