Diary Of A Sheltered Student

Part 4: Crush

In true 'me' fashion, I found myself a crush within a couple of weeks.

In fact, I found myself two.

One was tall, curly hair, pale, cute and kind. Let's say his name is George.

The other was tanned, smooth, and very very persuasive. That bastard knew exactly what to do. Let's call this fucker Charlie.

Out of the two options, I chose wrong. This is where the pathetic events of my adult love life begin.

As I said- SHELTERED.

I had no clue what I was doing. Before this I had never had a boyfriend (the closest I came was a guy in 6th Form for a week and then dumped me because I wouldn't have sex).

I was still very much a naive virgin.

So much so that Freya had to explain to me what a foreskin was.

I was useless.

But I'd met these guys, and I was in a random flat playing a drinking game, and I had somehow managed to position myself in the middle of them.

I literally don't know how I get myself into these situations.

So I'm sitting between them, slightly intoxicated, and they are both being rather flirty with me.

I'm pretty sure my thought process went something along the lines of:

HOLY SHIT okay this never happens do not fuck this up Lana you will never forgive yourself. Just be cool, be flirty back and just see where it goes.

If any of you ever met me, you'd know that "be cool" is not something I do very well.

But I tried, and I survived the evening.

About a week later, I was at one of the local clubs with Freya, George, and few other friends. On the walk home (I was a student, taxis are expensive, man), one of the girls we were with went crazy. She got angry about something (I was drunk I don't remember what) and smashed her phone on the ground. She then refused to move and started screaming and crying. I stayed back cause I didn't particularly want to die.

I must have looked scared because the next thing I know, George is right in front of me, looking me dead in the eye, telling me its going to be fine and he'll walk me home. The way he held both sides of my face and kept calm while he spoke despite the commotion is something I'm not sure I'll forget. That was my first proper interaction with a boy that was sweet, and gentle, and weirdly intimate.

That night, in my still intoxicated state, I offered for him to stay in our flat (more specifically, my room) because he couldn't find his keys.

I had completely forgotten I had let my friend (let's name him Sam) stay on my floor too, so we crept in and got into bed. Fully clothed, I might add.

One thing led to another and we were kissing. This wasn't my first kiss, that was on a beach at my friend's 16th birthday party. But this wasn't far off. This was the first experience of making out.

It felt good, like it was something I shouldn't be doing but I didn't care. Nothing else happened that night, we slept and then he went to his flat in the morning.

Nothing happened after that night with him either. Neither of us made a big deal out of it, although Sam did his best to never let us forget it (TO THIS DAY).

It felt like he regretted it, or he got what he wanted and that was that. Not that he got a lot in the first place, mind you. Despite this, I managed to get over my crush on him (took me over a year) and we are still friends now. Pretty sure he's figured out he's gay now.

So that was George, now on to Charlie...