Once upon a time, in a desert land, a girl and a boy locked eyes across a dancefloor. They danced, they laughed, they had the most memorable nights of the girl’s life. And one that continued far longer than it should have.
That girl was me, and that boy was Leibhaber.
The night we met, it was magical. He was so handsome – according to my girlfriend, he is the hottest guy I have ever been with – and that accent was so cute. After I almost got into a fight with a boy, we dragged our friends to an after-hours club, where we spent less than an hour.
There was no escaping it, we needed to get these clothes off right now.
So off in a cab, to his shabby hotel we did go, off to have ridiculous sex. And that should have been it.
But I left my number and that wasn’t the end of our little story.
No, instead he decided to use my number. He then asked for my email address, and we became online friends. Random dirty emails, with German thrown in for good measure and a few texts here and there. consumed the next few months.
I soon booked a trip to Paris – in part to go on a vacation, but also to put myself in proximity to the possibility of him. Soon, he made it clear he wanted to visit me in Paris and for me to visit his hometown.
Oh, these promises of great romance, they are so few and far between. Is there really anything wrong with me grabbing hold of one of them and enjoying it for a bit?
But I don’t think many great romances start with lewd acts, performed with a boy you hardly know.
I have to say though: Best. One-Night-Stand. Ever.
the blog of shame 