Much to your surprise no doubt, I’ve only ever had one one night stand. And to tell that tale, I’m going to paint you a picture similar to an awkward rom-com.

It’s a Wednesday night, I’m eager to drink myself into oblivion and I’m sat at home messaging my friend Dan* online. He’s possibly the easiest person alive to convince to get drunk. Initially, he said no, but with the promise of tequila, how could he turn me down? 

We head out an hour or so later, with no real clue of how the evening was going to go. Fast forward to near 5am and I’m stood on the dancefloor with Dan when a girl approaches me. Dan disappears. 

She asks me my name before leaning in:

“I’ve wanted to approach you all night but I think you’re really intimidating.”

I had to resist laughing. A lot. 

If you haven’t already conjured up an image of me in your mind, maybe have a read over my blogs a few more times before giving it a go. But somehow, “intimidating” probably isn’t how anyone would describe me. I have the gayest laugh on the planet and a ponsy walk – and unless you’re frightened by high pitched noises, I think she had me all wrong.

Nevertheless, she asks if she can come home with me. I look around, Dan has vanished. So why not. Saves me walking home on my own I suppose.

We get back – although I don’t actually remember this, I woke up in my bed so I can confirm that happened – and drunkenly fumble around. At one point I manage to push her off the edge of my bed. I don’t even hide my laugh. How’d you like that intimidation now, huh. 

You know in films when someone has a one night stand and wakes up to their house having been robbed? Well, I always thought that would be me. So when I wake up and find my room intact, I was relieved to say the least. I look beside me. Oh yeah, I forgot she was there. Now how am I going to get rid of her? I’m not one for small talk. In fact I can’t stand it.

I’d already pre warned her I had to get up in the morning and set an alarm to avoid a day of awkwardness. My alarm goes off, she doesn’t even stir. I nudge her. Nothing. Is she dead? Maybe. And for a second I contemplate going back to sleep. No – this bed is mine, she can go. 

So I set another alarm. And put the phone on the pillow beside her. I’m a bastard, right?

Mission accomplished. She stirs, grumbles and asks if she can stay a little longer. Eventually, she moves, and as she leaves she turns to me again:

“Do you even remember my name?”

I did. That showed her. I wasn’t that much of a slut. However… did. 

I am sorry Azealia Banks lookalike, for now I have no clue. 

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