. . . Back when I was 23 and a young whippersnapper, I went to my sister's friend's 21st birthday, got myself more than a little inebriated, and ended up kissing an 18 year old.
I know, I'm such a cougar. Purrrrrr.
Anyhoo, the girl who had that 21st party, was the same girl who was the hen at the hen day/night thing on Saturday. I was a bit embarrassed about facing her mum because the last time she saw me, seven years ago, I was in her living room snacking on a teenager's face. Apparently she'd been a little appalled by it. Oops.
I will stress it WAS only kissing, strictly PG rated stuff.
Luckily her mum didn't appear to remember. Or she didn't bring it up anyway. And thank goodness for that.
You see, there was this girl sitting behind us during the cocktail making. She was kind of LOUD. In a way that was funny at first but later . . . it was coming across as attention whoring in the most annoying of ways. She also, on closer inspection, was a little older than she looked from far away. We think around about 34.
(There's a point to this story. I'm getting there. I promise.)
We discovered, through blatant eavesdropping, that she'd been with her boyfriend for around about 6 years.
And he was quite a bit younger than her.
Can you guess who the boyfriend was?
Oh yeah, it was the 18 year old I'd snogged back in late 2002. (Obviously he isn't still eighteen now, he's like 25. Duh.)
They'd evidently been together since she was 28 and he was . . . 19!!!
Did he always like older women then??? Or did I give him a taste for it?
I guess we'll never know . . .