Lara

Image

I met Lara in the Coach and Horses in Soho.  She had short hair, a sandpapery Northern accent and a chip on her shoulder.  At 36 she was 9 years older than me-a definite plus point.

She was clearly extremely nervous, and said she didn’t have many friends in London after moving down on a whim a couple of years ago. She expressed this nervousness by nailing 3 pints of Old Rosie cider (7.3%) in the first hour, after which she was dragging me up Greek Street shouting “can we just go somewhere and go and dance to the worst, cheesiest music on the planet?”

I told her I didn’t fancy G.A.Y. and that seeing as it was only 7 it wouldn’t be open for a few hours.

We ended up in the Blue Post. Turns out she’s a bit of a leftie, works in social housing and three pints later she was shouting something at me about Middlesbrough factory closures, and telling me how she hasn’t made a difference. Around this point I started texting another girl to see what she was doing.:

The other girl was busy so I stuck it out with Lara, despite her actually being a less nice person than me and her harping on about her sore neck.  Three times I heard the story how she started to get pains down her left arm which freaked her out but was as a result of a slipped disc, or something like that.

Turns out she’s a bit of a leftie, works in social housing and three pints later she was shouting something at me about Middlesbrough factory closures

The elevens approached; she’d hit the diet cokes and I’d was on my fifth tequila.  I really wasn’t bothered if she came back to mine or not, the thought of an episode of Alan Carr and a bottle of red rather appealed.  Lara asked what I was doing and I stayed ambivalent , saying  that I might be meeting other people (I had texted the other girl again in the interim). She looked a bit hurt and I felt the unfamiliar pull of guilt, so told her I’d stick with her (which I fully intended to do, unless the other girls’ date ended up as bad as mine).

Anyway, she suggested coming to mine; we got back she started with some nonsense about us not fucking. That didn’t last long, and just after I entered her she said: “Can I add a bit of pressure to the situation and say I haven’t done this in two years?”

Twat.

The sex was good, her tits are fantastic; her best quality by some stretch. Plump and pumped like two size 3 footballs.  I complimented her on them immediately, if “wow, I really didn’t expect that” counts as a compliment.

The piece de resistance: Afterwards we were milling around in bed having a smoke, and having a nice chat.  I liked her more then than I had done for the last 9 hours. She started with some nonsense about the sex making things difficult in terms of us being pals, even though this was the first time we’d met.  At the time I was betrothed (but not actually in a relationship) with a girl who had been away travelling and was due home soon.

She totally flipped out; we woke my flatmate up with our arguing (which doesn’t say a lot for the sex)

I said, in one way or another, “well, I’ve got a girl coming back in two weeks so don’t worry about anything from my side.”  She totally flipped out; we woke my flatmate up with our arguing (which doesn’t say a lot for the sex). After a while it transpired she was annoyed that I didn’t see anything more in this than sex even though, for once, I really hadn’t been pushing the issue; she referred to herself as ‘a bit on the side’ even though I made it absolutely clear that I wasn’t in a relationship with the girl at the time, per se.  Which was true.

She started putting on her clothes to leave, I told her to stop being silly, and that it was 3am. Despite myself I apologised very nicely, simply to quell the situation.  5 minutes later she said “I can’t stay in here with you now” and went to sleep on the couch with some bedding I pulled out of my cupboard for her.  To be totally honest I was pleased of the extra space.

10 minutes later she came back moaning about it hurting her neck. I didn’t offer any sympathy, nor offer her a space in the bed.  She left and the next day I got an apology on Facebook, asking if we could meet up again.

This article first appeared on Sabotage Times, which you can find here

Advertisements
This entry was posted in Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s