I had just met #195 for the first time that night. I’d found him in the bar after the Eurovision and I recognised him from a café I’d been at earlier in the day, and #184 knew him a bit. Plus he was clearly not insane like #194, which was a blessed relief. I don’t really remember how come we wound up kissing, but okay. He left the party a couple minutes before me, and I found him along the street. It was a long walk home and we paused frequently to get off and he said presumably filthy things in Polish. I wound up with hickeys, again – seriously, does anybody else over the age of fifteen get them, or is it just me? The sky was getting light and the birds were singing and my couchsurfers had been safely tucked up in bed for hours when I tiptoed into my flat.