As I walked back to my apartment, or should I say flat? That’s what British people call them right? Well, as I walked back to my flat I couldn’t help but think that the guy I had met looked strangely familiar. I only really got a good look at his mouth but something about him, something about his voice brought back memories that I couldn’t quite grasp. Maybe all British guys sounded the same?

Finally making it back to my flat after taking about 10 wrong turns and struggling to find my keys in my cluttered bag, I walk in to a loud yell.

“Bloody. Fuck. What are you doing home? I thought you’d be out later than this,” yelled my roommate Jason, “I was going to surprise you with a housewarming gift but now I’ve dropped it. I wasn’t expecting you home this early.” He said looking down at the now broken potted plant lying on the floor.

I crouch down starting to pick up pieces of the broken pot, “I’m so sorry, my friend had to catch an earlier flight so we got lunch instead of dinner.”

Jason sighed, “Well I guess I’ll go out and get you a new plant once I clean this one up. I know how much you like to have real plants in your room because of some feng shui shit right?”

“Um no, I just like having real plants because they’re good for the air…and also because they fit my life aesthetic,” I say sarcastically, “But thank you so much for buying me a housewarming gift!”

I stand up holding shards from the pot and walk into the kitchen to throw them in the trash. Jason follows with a dustpan of soil before squeezing me into a huge hug.

“I’m just so glad you finally came to visit me! I hadn't seen you since we were 10 and I’ve missed you so much!” He yells into my ear.

"Jason we saw each other yesterday, we only moved flats!" I said laughing.

Jason has been my best friend practically since we were born. We grew up right next door to each other and were inseparable; that is until his dad was relocated to London for work when we were 10. After he left, our parents taught us how to use Skype and FaceTime and that’s how we’ve been communicating for the past 10 years. We called each other almost every day and we were both completely caught up on each other’s lives even though we lived thousands of miles away. This year however, I decided to take a year off from college and live with him. My dream of becoming a novelist was shattered after one of my teachers told me to give up and find a new dream because they didn’t like the best story I had ever written (in my opinion). For the majority of Autumn, I spent working at a local pub serving drinks to drunk old men and horny college students until I met Michael.

He walked into the bar and my eyes immediately fell on him. He was tall, muscular, blonde, with light grey eyes. I remember he walked right over to me and asked how my night was going. He had come to the bar with friends who all got trashed as the night went on but he just sat at the bar talking to me; not ordering a single drink. At last call, he had asked me to get dinner with him the next night and I had said yes.

It was the middle of September and still warm in London so we went to a cute little restaurant outside. He was perfect in all the ways a gentleman should be. He pulled out my chair for me, held doors open for me, made sure I was happy, but I wish I knew it was all an act before it was too late.

We had dated for about 2 months before he asked me to be his girlfriend. Everything was perfect, he was still a perfect gentleman and I had nothing to complain about. It seemed that once I had agreed to be his girlfriend, everything changed. He stopped taking me on dates, he stopped listening when I talked to him, he stopped making sure I was happy. The only time he would talk to me was when he wanted to have sex, which just consisted of me kneeling on the bed away from him as he thrust in and out until he was done. Then he’d tell me he loved me, and leave.

By the end of November, I had had enough of him and decided I was going to go to his flat to breakup with him. And, basic sob story, I walked in on him with another girl. To make it even worse, I forgave him because he told me he loved me, and guess what? I walked in on him with another girl AGAIN.

So, I cut him off completely and haven’t seen him since, and he’s the reason for my highly unrealistic New Year’s resolution.

---

After Jason and I finished setting up my new room, we decided to get some Chinese takeout for dinner and watch some sappy movie he found on Netflix about some girl standing in the rain and begging some guy to love her. I personally found it very unrealistic and cheesy.

I’ve never been the biggest fan of romcoms. They just get your hopes up that something like that will happen to you but it never does. Why would people who hate each other ever end up falling in love? Or why do the best friends always fall for each other but they’re both too scared to admit it? Nothing in my life would ever be anything like a romcom, even though I might wish it would be someday.

By the time the movie was over it was nearly 8 o’clock. I had told Jason about my stranger encounter and he told me we couldn’t be friends anymore if I didn’t go to the club later. I just wasn’t sure if I was completely comfortable going to a place I had never been, in a city I had never been to before, to meet a guy that I didn’t know. I figured if my life was ever going to be like a romcom, it would definitely be doing something totally stupid like this…or if my life was ever going to be like a horror movie, but I didn’t have time to think about that scenario.

I’m the type of person who would rather be too early than late (or on time even), so I gave myself 2 hours to get ready and get to the club so I wouldn’t have to rush. I washed my hair, shaved (everywhere, better to be safe than sorry), and exfoliated my entire body. As I got out of the shower I checked the time: 8:30.

I normally just let my hair dry naturally but for tonight I thought I’d at least put some effort into my appearance and blow dry it straight. I always go very minimal with makeup because I have a fear of it all melting off my face if I get too sweaty from dancing (or other activities).

By 9:30 I was done getting ready and grabbed my bag to head off to the club. I decided to wear a long sleeved, red, cropped top with my favorite pair of high-waisted jeans and some black chelsea heeled boots.

9:50 and I had made it to the club where a giant line was formed outside the entrance.

Notes