"How was your weekend?" asked Hamish.

"Pretty good..." shrugged Charlie. "I had lunch with Noah on Sunday."

"Sunday Roast?" assumed Hamish.

"Well, it was supposed to be..." said Charlie. "But it ended up being an M&S meal-deal-for-two back at his place."

"How did that go wrong?" asked Hamish.

"Typical Noah..." explained Charlie. "I agreed to meet him at his place and then go for Sunday Roast at the pub around the corner. I suggested we book. When we got there, it was rammed and he hadn't booked."

"What was he thinking?" asked Hamish. "Isn't is 6-Nations?"

"Exactly..." sighed Charlie. "He was amazed that it was so busy."

"Sunday Roast at the pub is literally all that straight people do on the weekend..." laughed Hamish.

"He's Portuguese..." shrugged Charlie. "I think he's still getting his head around some of those traditions. Anyway, once he conceded that the Sunday Roast wasn't happening, we grabbed the meal-deal from M&S and went back to his place."

"How did that turn out?" asked Hamish.

"The meal-deal was fine..." shrugged Charlie. "But you know how I've always had that weird sexual tension with Noah?"

"It's a bit one-sided this sexual tension, right?" clarified Hamish.

"Rude..." dismissed Charlie. "Not totally inaccurate, but rude. Anyway, this was another classic example of that."

"So, what does that mean?" asked Hamish. "I'm assuming that you got no action?"

"Exactly!" exclaimed Charlie. "That's exactly what I'm saying! But I feel like he's giving me mixed signals."

"Give me some examples..." prompted Hamish.

"Okay, get this..." began Charlie. "When I got there, he said something like - You look better."

"Better?" repeated Hamish. "Is that compliment? Better than what? What's his reference point?"

"I know, right?" nodded Charlie. "I saw him a couple of months ago, and I look exactly the same. So confusing! It was kind of down-hill from there. We spent a few hours just hanging out his place - cooking and eating and talking and drinking. At some point we were lying on the couch together and he was snuggled in my arms, and it felt really good."

"Snuggled?" laughed Hamish.

"Don't judge me..." dismissed Charlie. "I like snuggling. There's nothing wrong with snuggling. Anyway, eventually I said that it was time for me to go home."

"Hoping that he would tell you to stay?" asked Hamish.

"Obviously..." agreed Charlie. "He didn't ask me to stay. We hugged goodbye. It was a really long hug, and he's snuggling right into me and practically grinding up against me, when he sort of laughs and says something like -  I'm so desperate for intimacy that I've got a hard-on just from hugging you."

"Oh..." nodded Hamish.

"I know, right?" exclaimed Charlie. "Have you ever head anything more cruel? It's like he's saying that he would have got a boner if some random person in the street had shown him any sort of affection. That he's on such a hair-trigger that he's even getting aroused by someone as totally sexless and undesirable as me!"

"Maybe you're reading too much into it?" suggested Hamish.

"Am I?" demanded Charlie.

"It could just be a language thing?" suggested Hamish.

"I don't know..." sighed Charlie. "I didn't go there expecting sex. I mean it was genuinely good to see him - he's a cool guy. It's just that I could have done with a bit of a confidence boost that an uncomplicated casual hook-up wasn't completely out of the question. Instead, it just left me feeling like the frumpy Auntie at a wedding."

"Maybe stop using the word snuggling?" suggested Hamish.

"You can be such a cunt sometimes..." laughed Charlie. "A total fucking cunt."

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