The thing about #159 was that she was #138‘s ex. They were together for ten years, if memory serves, and their break-up left #138 homeless for a year. So yes, there was baggage. But all that happened before I met either of them, and when #138 introduced me to #159 on a drunken night out, they seemed to be getting along just fine. In fact, it was #138 who suggested I should get off with #159, so I assumed there weren’t going to be any problems. #159 and I made out on the dance floor at CC’s because that’s how classy a night it was, and then we went back to my place.
This is where it started to feel like I was in an awkward indie film, because we were in the middle of having sex when #138 started phoning #159 repeatedly, and #159 kept answering the phone, and then they’d argue with each other in Shetlandic. #159 would then hang up, assure me that everything was now sorted out, and then get off with me some more before the process was repeated all over again. It was pretty ridiculous, and it’s what I remember most vividly. But I guess the sex was good enough judging by the mystery bruises I discovered the next day.