In the summer of my lower 6th, just turned 17, I met Dave. He was lovely and again, had a car. He played me Destiny's Child songs down the phone and told me I was the most perfect girl he'd ever met. I admired his blatant honesty.
We happily dated for a fortnight, going to friend's birthday parties and the cinema. He decided that he would go to the local university instead of Edinburgh as he didn't want to leave me. Slowly but surely, I felt all the signs of teenage infatuation (also known as True Love to a 17 year old).
Then one night, he invited me to dinner at his parents' house. This was the moment I was waiting for. In my head, this was only one step away from a proposal.
So, dressed up, I went along to his house, and enjoyed a lovely meal with his lovely, if somewhat on edge, parents.
It took until dessert to find out why they were so on edge.
Turns out that Mr Dave not only had a girlfriend but a pregnant girlfriend at that.
And again came the sobs.
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