Nope. I was not “very polite” nor “clear about the fact that I want no role in this whatsoever”. Of course I wasn’t. No, instead I chose to confront him on the next night out, dressed in an elf outfit. If you have no idea how hard it is to keep your dignity whilst wearing an elf costume, let me tell you; near to impossible. Anyway, Mr. Bingley assured me of the fact that he did have a girlfriend, however broke up with a couple of months ago. This helped me getting to the conclusion that he did have a girlfriend the first time we kissed, but seeing as it was the same for me I was not in the position to judge.
So he went home with me that night. What can I say? I am ashamed and disappointed in myself, but a drunk heart does what a drunk heart wants. Nothing happened, again. We kissed briefly and passed out, which seems to be our signature move. I am not complaining however.
Now comes the most awkward part. I amused my friends till the point of tears in their eyes when telling, or rather acting out, this part of the story. So imagine me, half dressed in an elf-costume, half in PJ’s. Then on to him, wearing some weird-ass costume as well. Then back to me, awkwardly making clear that I have a lot of work to do. Back to him, understanding and possibly quite relieved to have an excuse to leave my house. Then back to me, realizing he doesn’t have money for a cab and is wearing tights, feeling sorry for him and offering him money for his cab. Back to him, feeling quite demasculinized by having to ask for money but accepting my offer anyway. Then back to me, taking a tenner out of my wallet, having a brief yet essential moment of brain failure, throwing the money onto the bed. As the money is hovering in the air, I realized what I just had done. I had thrown money at him. I had just thrown money at him after he spent the night at my place, wearing tights. What was I thinking? Did I believe that I had to act thug for living the thug life?
Thus, there you have it. Him awkwardly grabbing the note from my bed, me screaming frantically inside my head. I don’t have words for it really, apart from the fact that I am an utter and complete idiot. Nevertheless I have decided to rename Mr. Bingley for this would NEVER EVER EVER have happened in Pride and Prejudice and Jane Austen would quite possibly turn around in her grave if she found out that I used the name of her beloved Mr. Bingley for a lad that I throw my money at.
All suggestions are welcome.
Stay golden my little ponyboys and stay strong my fellow awkward-turtles out there,
Yours truly, Maple.