When I think back on it, through the soupy fog of memory, I can see us back at The Union, dancing together on a dance floor packed so full it was a wonder the wooden floors didn’t collapse, raining all our drunk asses down into the Day Kaif below.

I couldn’t have been much older than 18 back then, and I guess you could say I was still pretty green, still putty dough, soft and maleable.

And so I found myself dancing with her, the first time I think I’d ever tried dancing with a girl, and even back then I could feel some kind of force drawing us closer, our pheromones so thick in the air you could practically taste them.

We kissed for the first time on that rickety old dance floor back in University, surrounded by sweaty, drunk students on a crazy summer night that would change our lives in ways we could never have guessed back then.

Later I walked back to her res with her and we spent half an hour outside the front entrance, making out. I remember desperately wanting to get into her res room with her to finish what we had started, but she had reservations.

She’s a classy lady, she wasn’t going to let some random guy she had just met into her room, no matter how powerful our chemistry was.

We ‘dated’ for a grand total of about 2 weeks before I told her I didn’t think things were working out. I was retarded back then, full-retard, as opposed to the half-retard I’ve grown up into.

The irony is that I dumped her because after 2 weeks, we hadn’t slept together, even though one night she agreed to come back with me to my res room, spent the night sleeping next to me in my tiny single bed and I didn’t make a move.

Like I said, full-retard.

That night I was out at one of the four or five student bars where we used to get fucked up and I saw her across the room. Something swept over me at that moment, seeing her like that, the light catching and reflecting in her fiery red hair, her eyes hazel brown and wild behind her calm smile.

I wouldn’t realise it until years later, but I loved her from the day I dumped her.

I call her Jessica Rabbit, J-Rab for short. What you have just read is only the first chapter of our story, and trust me, it only gets better 😉


Patty-cakes, patty cakes

Patty-cakes, patty-cakes


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A Word From The Kind Folks At Nokia



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