There’s always something there to remind me

The drag singer at that rural pub sang it.

A guy, a friend of a friend, 27, gorgeous, was ever so friendly.

I liked him.

We play-fought, then we played being a couple for the drag artist’s schtick.

He grabbed my crotch as his darts mates laughed.

He bought me drinks.

I enjoyed the attention.

We mock-kissed for a photograph.

He laughed with his darts mates about it.

I poured a pint of beer over him as part of a complex joke I still don’t get.

He had me sit on his lap as a joke for his darts mates.

We all laughed.

I went home alone.

So did he.

I was 17 and a fool.