Shortly after kissing #25, I kissed #26 on a traffic island in the middle of Princes Street. He could’ve been another nameless person but we made out for a while and finally I asked, “Do you speak, at all?” and he said “Sometimes.” We swapped names and numbers; he was having a party not long after Hogmanay.
You know when you basically don’t know a damn thing about somebody and therefore you decide that obviously they’re probably just perfect for you? That’s pretty much how it worked in my head. I was kind of excited about seeing this boy again because who knew what was going to happen. I turned up to his party, presumably with a friend, and I really don’t remember much at all, it’s kind of lost to the mists of time, but I discovered that actually – surprise! – he wasn’t really my type. Plus he kept trying to be funny and it wasn’t really working out. He seemed maybe a little nervous, but I wasn’t sure. I think I may have kissed him again anyway, out of some form of politeness, but we didn’t see each other again. I can’t remember if I explicitly communicated that it wasn’t going to happen.