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One evening, I went out with a small group of friends to console ourselves about our equally doomed relationships. Drunk, we got on the night bus home. They each lent me £1 for the next leg of my journey, and as I waited at the next bus stop, a man appeared on a vespa.
Concentrating hard on getting my sentence out in the right order, I said "I want your motorbike." to which he replied "Hop on then." After promising to hold on tight, we zoomed off into the deserted streets of North London. Eventually, we arrived at Primrose Hill. We parked and he asked if I wanted to go for a walk. Aware of how brilliantly unsafe this was, I agreed in an instant. But on one condition: he had to keep his helmet on.
He agreed, and we both entered the park with our visors down, searching for the perfect place to sit and chat. Eventually we found a bench at the top of the hill overlooking the city lights. We spent two hours talking - about love, politics, religion, motorbikes and fetish clubs. I swung my legs up on the bench and he rubbed them with his riding gloves to keep me warm, and I conceded to continuing our chat with visors up.
This revealed him to be the owner of beautiful dark eyes which were momentarily very distracting. Eventually he asked if he could kiss me. Explaining that I had a boyfriend, he nodded thoughtfully and said that was fine. Determined to be virtuous, I said I thought it might be safer if we put our visors down again in case I couldn't bear the temptation.
Then, with the creek of leather as he leant over in his jacket, he rubbed his visor against mine slowly until it misted up with steam. "There; I visor-snogged you" he said triumphantly; and that was the beginning of a very beautiful, if hard-to-explain friendship.
