’ from a nice bloke called Jack, I immediately felt the need to dramatically blurt out that I had train tracks in a manner comparable to confessing that I had ten children from previous marriages or an axe murderer ex-husband. I spent weeks on the phone to mum moaning about how no one would ever kiss me again before realising that a) it wasn’t helping and b) nobody gives a fuck. Having retreated to the toilet to take stock of what I could possibly have said to warrant the serious shift in vibes, I then noticed what was essentially half a salad bar hanging from my front tooth. As I went downtown for the first time with braces, I’m pretty he could hear the voice in my head screaming ‘please don’t shred his dick, please don’t shred his dick…’ While I have since managed to give successful head (after a lot of Saturday afternoons spent trying to deep-throat a banana), I do try and avoid any prolonged action.
You can’t watch as they smile, and that smile spreads up into their eyes and transforms their face into one of the most beautiful things you’ve ever seen – a thing that warms your heart and makes you realize you want to spend more time with the person. Unfortunately, the reality is nowhere near that fantasy.