Throes and Woes.

I finally confessed a dark, horrible secret to my mother. A dark, horrible secret that I have kept since the cold evening of January 1st, 2005. I told her, after two and a half years, the truth about that New Years' Day. And now, I feel it is okay for me to share this secret with whomever, rather than just all my friends and any classmates.



So, without further fuss 'n' Ado, here goes: I had been going out with a girl, let's call her K, [yes, the same K from the texting fiasco.] for little over a week. She had decided, in her drunken stupor as a result of New Years Eve, tp kiss a bunch of different guys. When I found out about it, I [quite rightly] dumped her. This was approximately 8am. She, rather expectedly, decided to text me constantly, professing her undying love, and saying she was "so, so sorry.", etc, etc. Despite all this, I didn't relent a tiny little bit. It was Over. Imagine my utter surprise and utter dismay when she turned up at my door at 9pm that evening, saying she was sorry, and wanted me back. So, because it was snowing, and generally bloody cold standing at the front door, I invited her in.

She proceeded then, upon shedding her sodden jacket, and shivering for five or ten minutes, to continue apologising for straying. I, in a generous, rather still drunk mood, finally forgave her. At which point we started kissing, and one thing led to another.

Now, bear in mind she was a virgin.

So, I'm treating her gently, being the most caring, sensual lover I had ever been, making sure she was okay, lighting candles, and other cheesy, faux-romantic tricks that guaranteed me another crack at the muff sometime soon. We were about twenty minutes into it when, at the door, came a "ratatat-thud-thud". I answered with an "Aye?", in the inquisitive tone that suggests to everyone in the world the phrase "What the hell do you want, I'm kinda busy here!".

Alas, my mother isn't exactly renowned for picking up on tones of voice, and proceeded to ask "Are you busy?".

At this point, I ask you to remember that K was 14, and I was 15.

"No, mum... why?"
"Because [opens door] I'm needing to hoover in here."
"Oh.. erm.. okay."
At this point, she spots us snuggled up rather tightly under the duvet, and wittily says "I hope you two aren't shagging under there!", to which I replied, rather tactlessly, "No, we're just hugging."

So, imagine the scene. A young man, a young woman, bollock naked under a duvet, and the mother of aforementioned boy vacuuming the bedroom.

That, my dear friends, is how my poor girlfriend lost her virginity. Watching my mother hoover.