Isn’t it amazing how a thing or place can hold so many memories?

The boutique hotel, 22 Hampton, is where Daniel and I had our first night away. It’s in London, so not exactly a million miles from home, but at the time we were both living with roommates and wanted our first time to be something special. I’m not really sure how it came about, but we decided to wait for a little while before getting intimate. Well, neither of us were just looking for something casual, so we were happy to get to know each other first… or maybe it was just because we had roommates and we didn’t get much privacy. I do have a tendency to remember things in a (not necessarily accurate) positive light.

So we went out for dinner, drinks and then Daniel brought me back here so that we could finally spend the night together.

I remember the first time I came here, falling in love with the mismatched furniture and the exposed oak beams. Industrial girders and gears still hang from the ceiling in some of the rooms – apparently this place used to be a mill of some kind. I remember reading about it in absolute amazement the first time we came here. I would drink it all up every time we stayed here in the early days. By the time we were a little deeper into our relationship the only thing we’d drink up would be the complimentary bottle of white wine before we ripped each other’s clothes off, and by the time that urge died down we were already living together. Amazing, really, that once we moved in together and could have sex as much as we wanted, we didn’t exactly jump at the chance whenever we could. I suppose I just figured that, you know, when you’re in a loving relationship, these things die down. Turns out Daniel’s fire wasn’t put out, it was just being ignited by someone else. For God knows how long!

I do feel safe here, because only Ali knows where I am. Luckily I booked this place as a wedding present for Daniel. I had this stupid idea that the first place we had sex as a boyfriend and girlfriend should be the first place we had sex as husband and wife. The only person here for me to have sex with tonight is myself – I think I’ll pretend I have a headache. I’m sure I will in the morning.

I don’t even feel all that drunk, I suppose because it’s been a dragged-out, half-hearted drinking binge. All I feel is bloated, and as if I want to brush my teeth.

It’s a shame that I ate and drank so much on my way here, because someone went all out in the room, making it perfect for a wedding night. Champagne chilling in the fridge, chocolates on the sideboard, rose petals scattered everywhere, essential oils and fluffy robes. I could’ve saved myself some money in the railway station and just eaten and drunk too much in here by myself.