#131 was #98’s 16-year-old boyfriend. #98 didn’t know this until about a month into the relationship. He’d said he was 23. That’s why #98 looked so shell-shocked when we arrived at his flat the night of the James Bondage flatwarming party; he’d only just heard the confession.
I did research for him, reassured him that he wasn’t actually breaking any laws. It still felt weird, though, seeing as he and I were both 26. The relationship didn’t last beyond a couple of months.
#129 and I ran into #131 and his friend when we were in Opium one night. I was kind of enjoying Opium in those days because it was a nu-metal style bar that was dripping with teen angst and I liked to mock the clientele. But that night, the DJ was playing things like Enter Sandman and Debaser, and #129 and I were dancing in a corner as if it was just for us. After that, #129 made out with both #131 and his friend, and then we headed to #98’s place for some mayhem.
My next sighting of #131 was at a small gathering at #98’s place a few weeks later. I was texting #129 to report that #131 was being oddly touchy-feely with me, and #129 was reminding me that he always was, which I’d completely forgotten about. Next thing I knew, #131 was making out with me and explaining that he was actually bi. On top of that, I was also intermittently making out with #98 for the fun of it, and he was in turn explaining to me that he still had a thing for #131 and could I please put in a good word. (He completely denies this now.) All in all, it was a very stupid sequence of events.
#131 appeared on the radar a couple of times the following year, mostly to scrounge money. He claimed to be Irish and to do modelling work, but both of these things are doubtful since according to #98 he was a compulsive liar. Who the hell knows: maybe he was really 30.