As luck would have it today, I matched with a Z list celebrity I had a crush on for a year in my mid teens. Back then he was handsome, fit, talented, and for a time hated by half the nation. He never did quite recover his reputation and instead slid inevitably in obscurity. He now fronts the postcode lottery with Melinda Messenger. After a few months of burning desire, I quickly moved on to some new infatuation as all teenagers are prone to do and he hasn’t featured much in my thoughts since. We actually met once before during the summer I turned eighteen. I walked into a local music venue to watch a friend’s band perform and he was stood chatting to a mutual acquaintance at the bar. I strode over, all long hair, low-cut T-shirt and heeled boots to introduce myself. He looked me up and down, winked and promptly ordered us all a round of shots. After we’d downed them, he announced he had somewhere to be, whispered something in my friends ear and swaggered out the door. I turned to the acquaintance ‘what was that all about?’, she rolled her eyes and sighed ‘he said you’re fit, so I told him you were only 17.’ ‘You cunt!’ I laughed, and promptly forgot all about him again. After we matched, he started the conversation with some overdone would-you-rather line, and the chat never went anywhere after that. It’s a shame, after 10 years of wondering what his cock looks like I’d have quite liked to get a peek. 

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