Deflowering

Last night, Boyfriend, Best Friend and I sat over over drinks in a funky bar in Soho called The Edge. The bar men were handsome guys in tight black T-shirts. The music and was cheesy and the interior was cool. Elaborate floral displays sat on two of the windows. Each of the tables in the small bar had a flower like one might find in a cafe.

“Oh look,” said Best Friend laughing. “I found your flower.”

Boyfriend joined him in a chortle.

“Sorry,” said I in confusion.

“Remember you lost your flower?” Best Friend attempted to clarify. “Well, I found it.”

I remained confused. He and Boyfriend laughed. This irritated me further. “What the hell are you two going on about?”

“I found your flower,” said Best Friend.

Best Friend,” I responded sternly. “Are you making jokes about me losing my virginity?”

“Eh no, Stephen” intervened Boyfriend. He took a deep breath before proceeding with his explanation. “He was referring to the incident last weekend, when our house was broken into and you thought the intruders stole our baking flour. He claims to have found it.”

“Oh right. Puntastic,” said I before swallowing more of my Captain Morgan and Coke.  I threw my eyes to heaven.

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