There’s a guy I like. We get on really well as friends and have loads in common. We’ve been flirty for a while and a friend said he confided in her that he likes me. We were out a few weeks ago and ended up in bed together. It was amazing.
Last weekend we were out in Brighton having a laugh with friends. He challenged me to go up to a random bloke of his choosing and pretend I knew him. Fortunately, he chose an attractive bloke and I got chatting. A friend later said he seemed quite interested (I was oblivious; I was pissed and am not very good at gauging intentions – see entire blog for examples), but she could tell I wasn’t. However, what became clear was that the guy I like was interested. Our mates were teasing him about being jealous and joking ‘you’re clearly fucking her’. It didn’t take long for him to admit it.
The evening continued in a similar vein; we were flirty. I was trying to play it cool, but also desperately eager to sleep with him. We all came back to mine and when people had crashed out, it was just me and the guy together. Music + alcohol + sexual tension = suggestive looks and lots of touching. I leaned in for a kiss. He kissed me back.
Then he stopped and pulled away.
I said something like, ‘why not? We both know it was great last time.’
I really want to. I really want to. But we shouldn’t.
In a bid to play it casual I said it was cool. Being drunk and horny meant I began texting some other male friends. One guy called and we had a FaceTime chat upstairs in the bathroom. Within 5 minutes, my guy came upstairs, took the phone off me and hung up on the other guy. Then he took my hand and led me upstairs.