F*CK AND RUN- Part 1- The First Encounter.
I imagined single life to be a little bit different to how it ended up. It would be fun, It would be freedom, and it would certainly be the best thing for me.
I am a second year university student (of 23), who has recently departed -rather ruthlessly- from a four year relationship, that began too young, lasted too long and ended too late.
Single life is a student dream, but for myself, it was not to be. Sure, the first two weeks of freshers (for the second time around) were much more enjoyable with this new found freedom. But, what I've learnt this term, and not to be too bitter, there is always an ugly counter balance to whatever enjoyable things happen in life.
This girls, is the worst, most unforgiving and utterly atrocious incident of my first term as a single student.
We called him Michael Cera.
There was a cute and obscure intrigue in his face, tall, slim, around my age and definitely a student. He had saved me from a lip-pierced, umper lumper looking lad that had jumped right out of an episode of Geordie Shore. “You look lost” he said. True….Very true. At this moment my mate was otherwise engaged, chatting to a guy we would from that moment on nickname ‘Malfoy’. It was a Halloween, I had devil horns on, a red dress, and it was slowly approaching closing time. The look of relief on my face must've been the reason he smiled.
I'm not going to lie when I say my mate and I are pretty brutal, just girls with the same attitudes in life that guys have. I don’t think there is anything wrong with a one night stand, and there’s no better time to get it out of your system than while you’re young.
The taxi journey home was shared with Michael Cera, another guy (not ‘Malfoy’), my mate, myself, and some panicked glances between us two girls, as we quickly tried to overhear the names of the lads we were taking back with us. I definitely heard Max. Or matt. No. Definitely Max. Thank god the lads had got chatting, that would've been an awkward one. When we got home, the two couples dispersed into neighbouring rooms, each intending to enjoy each others company for one night only, and wake up in the morning full of either satisfaction or instant regret.
My friend began the next day by quickly ushering her piece out of the front door with a hurried goodbye. Luckily and unluckily for myself Max had done a runner as soon as we were done.
Yes. I had just experienced one of the worst possible outcomes of a one night stand.
It had been one of the most awkward encounters of my life, silent, simple and utterly unextraordinary. He had had an inbetweeners-like style and a dick that he didn't know how to use. During our first encounter I remember quite clearly the continuous ringing of his phone and the clear distractions it brought with it. Afterwards conversations were exchanged. These covered many topics including his degree in engineering, his car, and his age, his money, his mates and his work. If I'm being honest, I'm surprised he even knew my name. Just one question aimed in my direction would've sufficed for fuck sake.
At 5 in the morning I found myself lying alone in my (apparently unsuitably sized) bed, completely unsatisfied and utterly dejected. We were both drunk and experiencing many blurred lines. This would be the only thing that I could blame for his quick exit, but for the next couple of days I simply sunk into a pit of self loathing and confusion, wondering what I did wrong, and who the fuck he thought he was!!!!
Unfortunately for me there was no end to Max’s unjustified attack on my pride. From this point on it only gets worse.
For more, read FUCK AND RUN- Part 2- The Kebab House.