Saturday, July 28, 2007

Say Cheese

Some time last year I was at a gig, a little bit binned, and ended up kissing a friend of a friend. He's not my type, but he caught me off guard; pulled my hair, told me I was pretty, told me he was a great kisser, dared me to contradict him. I was charmed (I'm such a dick when it comes to flattery) and, as I said, I was binned. So I snogged the face off him, in the middle of the club and in full view of our mates. Which would have been fine had one of those mates not been carrying a disposable camera, and feeling snap happy.

A kodak moment it wasn't.

The same "friend" has brought it up ad nauseum ever since, and keeps telling me that he's had the photographs developed, posted them on the net (on fucking Bebo of all places) and encouraged everyone to have a laugh at my expense. He never has. His girlfriend thinks he may have lost the camera and I'm hoping she's right. Still, yesterday he started on about it again and I have to admit, it still gets me worried every time. I'm trying not to dignify his taunting texts with a reply. Thick fucker though, of all the days to antagonise me he chooses the one before we're due to head out paintballing, where I'm positively encouraged to shoot him in the bollocks as often as possible. He may be bigger, faster and stronger, but I'll be the one with upper body armour and a grudge.