what made me

That tumblr date.

He is different to how I imagined. Taller, smarter, less playful, more condescending. It’s in the back of my mind to ask him how different I am “in real life” to how I appear online, but I’m already drunk when he arrives so none of it really sticks. I don’t remember what we talked about between pretending to watch a film and taking each others clothes off. Afterwards we lie in my bed smoking with the windows closed. “I’m not usually like this,” I say as my eyes are closing.

I awake confused, thrown by my hangover and the strange body beside me. It’s far too hot in this room and I stare at his back for what feels like hours. He wakes me as I’m drifting again and we spend a sticky few hours tangled up before emerging into reality. Suddenly I’m embarrassed and awkward, not wearing enough clothes so I make breakfast while he checks his facebook and I wonder for a moment whether he’s reading messages from other girls.

We spend the rest of the day watching tv and making fun of each other. He’s takes himself very seriously and I’m too stupid. As he’s getting up to leave I ask whether he really has to go, couldn’t he stay another night and he laughs into my ear that I can’t possibly like him that much already.  

Anonymous asked: do you like giving head??

At least buy me a drink first?

I refuse to torture myself trying to fix this one.

He said he has been depressed lately and needs some time to sort his head out. So I said no worries and deleted his number because I just can’t do this again.