Wednesday, 1 September 2010

The Boy who Taught Me Romance

Freshly heartbroken from the Marine and his bad choice of names, I threw myself into going out and, while on one of these nights out, I met Grant. Grant was 21 and had a car. All big things to 16 year old Livy. I caught my hand in the club (the joy that was LAs in Hull) and told me I was pretty, all while staring at my top (which if I remember correctly had a picture of a hen with horns and the words 'Horny Chick' under it).

Ironically I had already kissed a boy that night, someone called Phil, Grant seemed like the obvious next step to complete the Mitchell Brothers set.

So kiss him I did, come 1am, we exchanged numbers and I went home, floating on a cloud, knowing that, where Mr Marine had failed, Grant would definitely be The One.

The next day this was confirmed with a text message; Grant told me how great it was to meet me and how he couldn't wait to see me again. I quickly arranged for us to go to my friend's birthday party on the following Friday night.

On the Friday he picked me up in his Skoda, and we went to the party, there we snogged in the corner and danced to Westlife before he drove me home. After 10 minutes of trying to persuade me to have sex with him in his car (I go for the classy ones), I left, again on a cloud of love.

The following Wednesday, I received a message from him saying I would be out on Saturday and why didn't I come out and stay with him over night, I could tell my parents that I was at a friends.

Being the good girl that I was, I said I didn't really want to and that I would feel strange staying at his house.

His house? he replies?

No, he meant a hotel, how could I stay at his house? What would his girlfriend say?

And so, heartbroken, I stopped texting him, sobbing my poor naive heart out.


anna and the ring said...

Sort of sounds like a Craig David song!

Christie said...

I clearly led a sheltered life, you could make a soap opera out of this!

Christie said...
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