“Well. This isn’t how I expected my night to end.” I thought to myself, as I sat in just my knickers on one end of my sofa, with a guy called Will sat at the other.
I’d been at an afternoon festival with friends and stopped in at Burger Star; it was about 8.30pm-ish and all I wanted to do was head home and eat some food. While waiting, I got chatting to a guy called Will, who was visiting friends in Cheltenham.
“My friends want to go home,” he told me, “but I’m not ready for my night to end.” He asked me if I fancied going for a drink.
“Nope. I’m getting this burger and going home, I have zero interest in going back out.”
“Oh, go on.”
“Nope, I really just do want to go home and eat food.” It was nice chatting to him though, we’d hit it off quite quickly. “I have some beers back at my flat if you did want to carry on chatting, but know right now that this ISN’T an invite for a hook up as I’m not interested.”
Walking back to my flat with burgers in hand, I reminded him I wasn’t coming onto him and if he thought anything else he could jog on, but he was genuinely just happy to have someone to chat to.
Back at my flat we cracked open a bottle of prosecco (British single woman fridge staple) and he told me he was a recruitment consultant in London. At some point we got talking about art (I’m not sure how) and he mentioned he liked to draw, and professed to be pretty good at it. So of course I challenged him by thrusting my work notepad and a biro into his hands and demanded he drew something.
The result was a half decent quick sketch of some of my face which I ended up framing, but that’s not quite the end of the story. Somehow, and I really don’t quite remember how, I ended up sat on one end of my sofa in just my pants while he drew me at the other end. I was most certainly the instigator; one of those spontaneous moments. It was quite a strange feeling to be stared at so intently. It felt intimate but totally non-sexual, and was actually the moment that ignited a desire to try life modelling.
He crashed out on the sofa while I went to bed, and the next morning I woke to find a scribbled goodbye message on the drawing as he’d had to leave early to catch a train. I never knew his surname, and we never exchanged numbers. If it weren’t for the drawings he left, it could almost have been a dream.