Friday, 2 October 2009

Say my name...

Have you ever met someone in a public place, say pub or restaurant, who initially seemed like a creep, so much so you gave them a false name, say Katie, just so you could seem polite but not actually give them any factual information about yourself?
I have and I did.
As the conversation went on, it turned out he was in fact a really nice bloke but covered his shyness with complete narcissistic arrogance, we discovered we had acquaintances in common and we going to the same launch a week later.
Not wanting to seem like a complete bitch I omitted the real name thingymajig. I felt silly for saying a false name, I should have said "here's my (real) name and number" rather than "here's my number".
Skip to the next week.
We have nothing in common at all, except the same silly humour, but as with most of those 'opposites attracts' subconsciousness, we end up at his in a fit of wine-fuelled-giggles.
This is when I really should have said something about my real name.
I threw caution to the wind thought what the heck, he wasn't in it for the long haul but then it hit me.
There is nothing more disconcerting than in mid-orgasm hearing "yeah, fuck me Katie, oh yeah, I'm so close, are you?, oh Katie, come with me, come with me, oh fuck-ing-he-ll-Ka-tie"...
...especially when your name is not Katie.
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1 comment:

  1. I hate being called Katie during sex; I'm called Paul. The blonde wig may have been a mistake...