Picture this: A 20 year old me, standing in boots whispering to the pharmacist that I needed the morning after pill. Now, you may be wondering how I, the woman who hadn’t even had sex, had ended up in this position. The short answer: Men are trash. The long answer, well for that I’d need to start from the very beginning.
I’ve always been the kind of girl that it never really happened for. When I say this, I’m not referring to my academics or family or friends but rather my ‘love life’. I’d always been the girl that a guy got with just before he realised that he really wanted to settle down. Kind of like the final pit stop before you reach Disneyland. Having accepted my fate by the third year of university, I’d decided to stop looking for the elusive good guy and attempt to concentrate on my studies.
It’s pretty weird but whenever you tell people that you want to concentrate on your studies they assume that it’s because you can’t find or keep a man. Rather than realising that maybe I no longer want to be involved in the male drama that seems to follow me everywhere.
Unfortunately I, like all human beings still have needs. Though I don’t have sex, life seems to be infinitely better when you have someone to kiss. And I figured, since I don’t want a boyfriend, a few harmless kisses here and there would be fine. Before I delve into the reason why I was in Boots whispering to a pharmacist, I just want to understand why I end up in these situations. Apparently I’m emitting two of the worst signals. 1. Please come and waste my time and take mi fi eediat (take me for an idiot) and 2. I’m a weirdo who desperately wants a man. How is this possible?
The real context for this story begins on May the 31st. I had just finished my exams, I was out in one of the worst clubs/ bars known to man (but it was the only one open on a Thursday) and I had been fed multiple shots by all of my friends. Enter male 1, let’s call him Harry. You know those people that you recognise but you’ve never met, in a University town, that feeling of ‘I kinda know you’ is multiplied by 109. Immediately I met Harry, we got on like a house on fire. His sarcastic dry humour matched my sarcasm perfectly. A multitude of drinks later, we end up at his. At which point I tell him that I won’t sleep with him because I’ve never had sex. To which he unsurprisingly reacts to with shock. After 2 years of university I’m pretty used to this reaction but I won’t lie to you, lying in bed with him was one of the hardest things. Having the self-control to not have sex is hard enough, but with a guy who seems to get you, it’s a million times harder. But it was made easier by the fact that he told me he wanted to stay single until 25 (this fact is important for later in the story) I’m not going to lie to you, staying a virgin is probably the biggest challenge I’ve had in life. But I don’t exactly help myself 😪.
Fast forward to the next morning when his crazy lesbian flatmate bursts in at around 7am. Now I only mention that she’s a lesbian or potentially bi-sexual because she was so clearly in love with Harry. I thought she was a lesbian but we girls can recognise all the signs. There’s nothing like a girl who’s so clearly trying to mark her territory. Leaving feeling thoroughly freaked out at how comfortable she was chilling in Harry’s room while we were in his bed, I shook off the night before and arrived home in a borrowed t-shirt.
But of course, this being me, I wasn’t done embarrassing myself. Ahhhh the drunk message. The bane of my existence. After bumping into Harry and his crazy flatmate on another night out, let’s call her Christine. I then proceeded to message him. (She had marked her territory again and I wasn’t here for her bullshit). Long story short, after a series of replies that took WAY too long to arrive, I realised that I was wasting my time and this guy was not interested.