He sent me a Valentine’s card, even though he knew full well I had a boyfriend. He also posted a video of himself on his Facebook page, singing a song “for the woman I love, and may have lost”.
I spent the day wondering how to respond. I was pretty angry by his assumption that I’d leave my boyfriend for him; loyalty’s very important to me. I was also fuming at his suggestion that I could somehow be “won”, like a goldfish at the fair.
A few hours passed. I was just composing a restrained “Sorry, but you know I’m not available” text, when I checked Facebook again.
This time, he’d updated his status to “Fuck this, I’m sick of waiting for a response, I’m going back to bed”.
Within 20 minutes of meeting him, he murmured in my ear, “So, how about you come round to my house later and give me a blow job?”.
Now, let’s be clear, we weren’t actually on a date or anything (even so, it would have been rather forward…). No.
He was my new hairdresser.
Yes, he was cutting my hair, in the middle of a salon, when he decided to give me the come-on. And I still have no idea, to this day, what compelled him to take that conversational turn. And, no, I didn’t accept his kind offer.