The Bird-Caller

I had been chattin' with this one guy on Tinder™ for quite some time (well, for like 4 or 5 days – I’m not one to go ages without meeting them if we have good chat!), let’s call him Tom*. Then one night my girlfriends and I went out for drinks. One of them has a boyfriend (he’s lovely!) and the other was planning on meeting a Tinder™ dude at a pub down the street after we finished up. Feeling risqué, I decided to text Tom and ask what he was up to that same night. Can you blame a girl for wanting some male attention when her two best friends have it planned into their calendars? No, you can’t. 

Tom said he was located just a bit outside Edinburgh, so it wouldn’t be a good idea for him to drink and drive, but he could probably get his flatmate to DD. I gave him a few minutes and he said he was on his way. (Also, may I just say that when a guy has a car – I give him bonus points?! Dudes in cars in Edinburgh are apparently hard to come by!).

At this same point, my one friend got up to go to her Tinder™ date, and me and the other one walked over to the pub where we told Tom + Tom’s flatmate we were meeting them. The two boys arrived, and we all sat down for some drinks. With only one glance, I knew I had the better-looking one of the two. They were both tatted up to the max (I don’t necessarily find this attractive, nor do I necessarily find it unattractive). Tom apparently had an unquenchable thirst for beanies since he was wearing one indoors just now, and on almost all his profile pictures he was also wearing one. His flatmate on the other hand was being fully bearded had this not-so-sexy lumberjack look goin’ on.

Drinks were a bit slow moving at first. Tom and his flatmate were weirdly giggly, despite being about 24 or 25 and therefore ‘adult men’. Every time one of them would say something, he’d look sheepishly over at the other one, and they would both start chuckling to each other. In my humble opinion, no man should chuckle. It’s weird.

But, my friend and I endured it, and as the drinks flowed, the chuckles became less and less noticeable to me, and through my cocktail-goggles I began envisioning Tom on top of me, tattoos and all.

Since things were going well, we headed over to an Irish pub for mo’ drinks! Once we got there, our other friend texts us saying that her date sucked and asking where we were, wasting no time getting right on over to the Irish pub once she knew. Poor thing then had to be Lumberjack’s entertainment for the night.

By this time the walls of the place were reverberating with what can only be described as pretty terrible covers of 80s Arena Rock songs by one man brandishing a guitar. I suppose it was the music that made Tom start getting a little frisky, for he made no effort to hide where his hands were going, and to be honest, I didn’t mind. He was cute, and into me, so I was all for it.

By communicating with our eyes, the decision had been reached for him to come back to my place (only logical, since he lived out of town). However, he and his buddy only had one car, so Lumberjack was going to have to come too.

Begrudgingly, we all got into Lumberjack’s tiny shitty car, and made the rounds. First, we dropped friend-with-boyfriend off at her place, and then made our way to my and my friend’s flat. 

As soon as we got there, the alcohol was thumping through my system like a mini disco-party, so I was ready to get it on til the break of dawn as they say. With a quick goodnight, and leaving my friend with Lumberjack (that was an a$$hole move of me now that I think about it), Tom and I stumbled into my room and the clothes were off in a few minutes. “Good, good… This was exactly what I had planned,” I thought to myself.

I was laying back in my bed, closing my eyes, while Tom fiddled around with his fingers down there. Now, just a quick preface to what happened next. I had just had my period, and the day I met/brought Tom home was the day it also seemed to have stopped. So, naturally I thought I was in the clear!

Apparently my body had other plans.

Midway through a pleasant fingering, Tom hesitates and says “Uhm. I think we should stop”.

Inwardly I sigh, annoyed at this sudden change of heart, and open my eyes.

It looked like the freakin’ Boston Massacre. 

Tom was kneeling in front of me, holding both his palms facing upwards, which are covered in blood. Frantically, I look around my white linens, and they’re ruined as well.

Panic sets in, and of course humiliation – although technically I have nothing to be embarrassed about because blood coming out of your vagina every month is a natural course of action your body takes. However, Tom was being So. Incredibly. Awkward. about the whole thing, that I didn’t know what to do! Or say! Or think!

Then, in a most patronizing way for which I will never forgive him (and for which I flagged him on Tinder™ for acting ‘inappropriately offline’), he said “You should go get yourself cleaned up”. Like, ugh. But, I was so shocked by what had just happened that I practically ran to the shower.

Wishing I could remain locked in my shower room forever, but knowing I had to come back out and face Tom, I slinked out of there and attempted to make small talk/laugh about the situation. But he wasn’t havin’ it. He looked weirded out at best, totally grossed out at worst, and clearly sex was off the table now.

There was a mutual unspoken agreement that it’d probably be best if he and his mate got a move on, except the only problem was that Lumberjack was in my flatmate’s room BONING her. The moaning noises coming from her end of the apartment silenced all doubts we had.

GODDAMMIT I thought.

Clearly Tom was thinking the same thing, for he walks out of his room in his boxers, and I follow him wrapped in my towel, waiting to see what he does.

He stops outside my flatmate’s door, and…

STARTS MAKING BIRD-CALL NOISES.

I shit you not.