It was 2005, I was 14 years old and I had never been kissed.
And there was this boy.
We’ll call him Timmy because I’m too ashamed to use his real name. What if he sees this and thinks big of himself?
Now, Timmy wasn’t all that to look at, but he did play the drums. Naturally, I fell in love with him. We’d chat on MSN Messenger from time to time.
For those youthful enough to be unfamiliar with the now-defunct instant messaging platform MSN, all you really need to know is that if you weren’t on it, you weren’t worth talking to, baby.
MSN was the perfect place to strike up a conversation with your crush when you were too afraid to look them in the eye in real life. So one day I was chatting away to Timmy via MSN, hoping beyond hope that my Dad wouldn’t pick up the phone to send a fax and boot me off the dial-up.
For those youthful enough to be unfamiliar with faxes and dial-up, just trust me when I say you don’t know how lucky you are.
All of a sudden, this happens: