Slipped my hand into yours, didn’t I. Just two drunks walking home late through a park, holding hands. Except we aren’t just two drunks, are we? You’re the nice guy, the stereotypically nice guy, so nice you just went a long with it. And me? I’m a hypocrite, the self-proclaimed asexual, previously attracted to your flatmate. I told a friend about it, as though it was a big deal and he just told me I was a ‘Victorian’ in my flirting methods and perhaps he’s right. I am beating myself up regardless. Because you are a lot of things, but you are not a rebound.