California Love

Ah Tupac, such a lyrical genius! But the gentleman in this story was neither Californian, nor was it love. The nickname came about because this particular young man sent me the lyrics to the aforementioned song. Backstory. Hanging out with Rosemary and The Black Belt, I met all their friends. And because I’ve always been on better terms with boys than girls, I hung out with the boys quite a lot. I got to know them and they got to know me. A few indicated they wanted to get to know me a little better (not gonna lie, made out with a few), but I was pretty keen on The Black Belt at this stage, so nothing ever happened.

Until I got abso-fucking-lutely hammered at The Red Finn one night, made out with one guy against a window (I was sweating bullets cause the dance floor felt like hades and the window was cold on my back and thus the nicest part of that encounter) then I went home and banged his cousin.

So. Classy.

The cousin happened to be mates with Rosemary, I’d known him for a while and hung out with him a lot. We’d chatted, a little light flirting, one accidental night of semi-awkward sex, then emails of song lyrics. The awkward part about the sex was mainly his insistence of staring right into my eyes. I actually couldn’t get both eyes to focus on the same thing at the same time, so having someone trying to stare into them was vastly uncomfortable.

Not quite as uncomfortable as him declaring his undying love for me via email using the poetic word play from the makaveli man himself…but pretty damn close. So rules broken = one, no one that we both know. Whoops!

Onwards and ….uh…upwards 😛




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