This isn’t an exciting one, it was just opportunistic. It was August. We’d got our GCSE results and there was a formal at the Royal to celebrate. It was my first formal. I think tickets probably cost £3. I wore a green dress with gold trim that my sister had brought me from probably India. (Yeah, I used to wear dresses. It was a whole other life.) I remember drunkenly thinking, halfway through the night, “Wow, there are an awful lot of bartenders here tonight.” This was because all the boys looked identical. The girls got to wear colourful dresses and the boys only got to wear white shirts with black bow ties.
I danced with one of the non-bartenders towards the end of the night and we made out by the side of the dancefloor for a while. I think he had long dark hair in a ponytail and I never saw him again. I wasn’t bothered about that in the slightest. I mean, you just couldn’t go to a formal and not get off with anybody.
Oh, and in case you were wondering, I got 2 As, 3 Bs and 4 Cs. I got a fifth C two years later when I did Italian GCSE for the hell of it. I mention this only because nobody’s asked in the last decade, and I’d been led to believe that if I failed GCSE maths, my life would essentially be over.