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On Wednesday night the LGBT society had a coach trip. Not a “Pensioners going to the seaside” style coach trip, oh no. The city we live in is only known as a city by historical accident, it’s really just a town that happens to have a cathedral and a university. But we’re not far from another city, an actual city, with a variety of bars and nightclubs and buses that run after eleven at night. So we went there to go to a few bars and then a club, and since I’ve not been out clubbing properly in ages (the gay “club” here is a bar with a dancefloor), I decided that it didn’t matter that I had a full day of classes on Thursday, and went.

It was a really fun night actually, some people who do a course that runs parallel to mine came along (the event was called “bring a straight mate,” so I brought four) and I met someone who I know on Tumblr in real life for the first time. Cheeky Fifth’s flatmates were there (he wasn’t), and we had quite a funny situation. His (bisexual, female) flatmate, F, and I made out at one point – it was inevitable, really, it’s been a long time coming; it didn’t go any further than that but still. When the coach got back to our shit excuse for a city, it was freezing. December in northern Europe, should have seen it coming really. It would have taken me a good hour to walk back to my house from where the coach dropped us of so F let me stay at hers. The next morning, dying of a hangover, I dragged myself out of her bed to go to uni and went to get a glass of water. At the bottom of the stairs in F’s house the bathroom is right in front of you and the kitchen is to the right, and when I was going down the stairs F was standing in the hallway talking to Cheeky Fifth who was brusing his teeth in the bathroom. Just at the point she told him she’d made out with me the night before, I walked by in my underwear. The look on his face was priceless.

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