It was the middle of Winter and the bar we were in was closing. My date had had a lot to drink and I wanted to make sure she got home safely. She had other things on her mind, which I wasn’t going to say no to…
We went back to her place, she lived in a block of flats. As soon as we got into her flat we were all over each other. Afterwards I fancied a fag, but she didn’t smoke. Being a gentleman, I said that was cool, and that I’d just go downstairs and have one. So I nipped down, only intending to be a few minutes.
When I had finished my fag I butted it out and went to open the door, but it was of those big security doors and it had locked itself. I realised that I didn’t actually know what flat number hers was. I had to press most of the buttons before I was let in, so at least I was out of the cold. But then I had to try and find her flat!
When I thought I had found it, I was knocking on the door for ages and there was no answer. In the end I just sat on the stairs and leaned against the side, dosing off to sleep. It was all I could do because my keys, wallet, phone, jacket was all in her house.
In the morning she opened her front door and I woke up, it was about 6am. She said she felt terrible and that she had passed out and hadn’t heard me knocking at all. I told her not to worry about it, but I caught a virus and couldn’t see her for a few weeks after that and we ended up losing touch.