The Tale of Toga Boy

Now, in the last two and a half years there hasn’t really been many guys that have really made the cut, and actually made an impression. But one of those guys was Toga.
I met Toga through my usual modus operandi, i.e. absolutely half cut. Unsurprisingly it was at a uni “Toga Party” night (hence the name. I am nothing if not original….)I had been at a play rehearsal and then onto someone’s flat for some pre-drinks where I sunk a bottle of wine before moving onto to the union. Someone gave me a shot of…something. And my memory ends here pretty much. I vaguely remember walking back to Toga’s house, I vaguely remember having sex with him, I vaguely remember his friend’s barging into the room….but it’s all very hazy. Yeah yeah, I’m horrendous etc etc

I woke up at 7am as my phone alarm was going off. Don’t remember setting it. WELL DONE DRUNK ME. This was very good as I was due to go back to my first uni to graduate…. I had to be there for around 11, didn’t I. At first, not going to lie, didn’t know where I was. Boy next to me was HOT though. Another WELL DONE DRUNK ME. I collect my clothes up and get dressed, trying to avoid the metal construction fence thing that was in the room. (Don't ask, I do not know). Luckily I’d been wearing clothes under my toga. That could have been very awkward, doing a walk of shame Stride of Pride through East London in a strip of turquoise material. I couldn’t actually find my toga or the belt that I’d borrowed, but time was of the essence here, and I figured I could sacrifice them….Hottie next to me had woken up so I was apologising for having to leave at the crack of dawn….the sweetheart got up and showed me out and was generally quite nice….was just thinking to myself, “Aww he’s hot AND lovely, I did well….” Whilst also figuring out where the hell I was, and how I was going to get home, get washed changed and back out to the station in time….All I can say is Google Maps is a beautiful beautiful thing.

Of course, the underground line I needed wasn’t sodding open, so I had to get the bus, which was particularly fragrant this morning. Being still drunk this was not doing wonders for me….5 minutes down the road I get a text asking if “this is me? Love from my messy house x” I’D ONLY GONE AND GIVEN THE HOTTIE MY NUMBER WHILST PISSED.

Drunk Me – You have surpassed yourself. I was SO proud.

Cue texting back and forth all day, whilst I was out of the city, pretending to be sober whilst wearing a gown and hood and carrying out ridiculous ceremonies. I was pretty spaced that whole day, and of course my friends found the whole thing hilarious. I made it there on time. Just.

Unfortunately…..I didn’t know his name. I tried subtlety putting my name on the end of my texts so he would do the same….no such luck. We texted solidly for the next week, he found my toga and we set up a date under the pretence of giving it back to me. By this point I’d found some attempts of trying to save a number in my phone that had too few digits and also a number saved under “James is great.” …I checked the number and it was one digit wrong from the one he’d been texting from YAY I FIGURED HIS NAME OUT. I think.

I did go on the first date only 80% sure I knew his name.

It went so SO well. I fancied him so much. Everything he said just ticked every box I think I’ve ever had. He was fun, we had loads in common, (from matching sport induced knee injuries to spending stupid amounts of time/money/effort on ridiculous fancy dress), he had loads of medic friends, he had loads of gay friends, he went to festivals, he liked the same music. We got pretty drunk and then on the way back to mine managed to stumble upon a hidden courtyard with a beautiful fountain.

I’ve tried to find this courtyard again. I can’t do it. No idea where it is. I’m not sure I want to find it, I think I’d rather just keep it as this hidden moment of amazing-ness we shared.

The next morning he added me on facebook, without me telling him my surname…..Over the next few weeks we went on some more dates, out in Soho, dancing, I went to his and we watched films and ate ice cream, and we texted constantly. Ok I wasn’t sure where it was going, if he wanted something more, if it was just a fling, just a sex thing, I don’t know. But I was happy to go just go along with it and enjoy myself and see what happened. I didn’t want to scare him off, and I did/said NOTHING to suggest any kind of commitment.

And then. And then.

He just stopped talking to me. Completely. Gutted. Just gutted. I just got completely phased out. I sent him a message along the lines of “What happened? Did you get bored of me? I thought we were having fun, but I guess not.”

Radio silence for about another week or two, and I was getting on with life when out of the blue he sends a quasi apology text, where he says sorry for not talking to me, but not really giving me any real reason. And that was it.

I know there’s probably a million reasons why he just binned me off. Still hurt. I desperately tried at the start not to like him too much, not to get too involved…..didn’t happen. I’ve done this before, and got hurt the exact same way. If I like someone then I just throw myself headfirst in, which comes back to bite me! One day this technique will pay off….one day.

Looking back, it was probably quite obvious that it wasn’t going to last, given the way we met etc etc. And normally I would never dream of pursuing complete one night stands, that’s not what they’re about! But HE texted ME, he kept up the contact, and I let myself believe that maybe he would be the exception to the rule and it would continue into something. Learnt the hard way about that then didn’t I?