How close is too close?

Ok, don't be alarmed by the title image. I'm in a happy and long-term relationship with my partner. The only blood relationship we have has been explained in my last story and isn't the family-related kind.

But, there is some truth behind this unfortunate choice of wording.

We've all been there, 16 and stupid. Naive enough to believe we are old enough to drink ourselves through the night and young enough to still look sexy at the end of it.

9:30 pm, short dress, too much make up, smelling like a candy store and a WKD in hand. A teenage cliche if ever I have heard one but I epitomised cliches through my youth.

Just picture my foundation packed, the noughties face, crimped hair and a fake ID. I'm dancing to the greatest dance song (or so I thought) that had been released in decades: 'Pretty Green Eyes' and enjoying the eyes that are resting on my derriere.

I follow my girls to the lav to smoke a joint and talk shit about the lads from college while hypocritically feeling pissed at a recent break-up and wishing I had been enough.

I remember saying "Fuck him" and sipped some more of the blue.

By now it's rolling past 11 pm and teen from the noughties will tell you the party has only just started. So with a few more drags on the joint and a quick shared cubicle pee with the ladies, we stumble onto the dance floor, barely able to walk in our 6-inch heels and blister covered feet.

Nowadays I would choose comfort over fashion every day of the week. Although who said flats aren't sexy. I distinctively remember Amy Winehouse talking about 'Fuck me pumps'.

So I continue to do what every girl would do in my shoes, I drank until I was sick and then carried on drinking again. I experimented with a few girlfriends, smoked a little weed and then cried for an hour in the bathroom talking shit.

"He's a cock but I love him"

And

"You girls are my best friends and my sisters"

Before throwing up for 30 minutes followed by a touch up of thick makeup for 20 minutes in the barely visible public toilet mirror.

Of course, these experiences are embarrassing to look back on but not as cringeworthy as what was to come.

A little past 1 am now and I tell myself I can go all night but realistically my dress keeps coming up, my make-up has been touched up more times than I liked to admit and I'm depressed over that fuck nugget boy.

Then, he comes over.

Keep in mind, I can barely see from the blue poison I have filled my stomach with and I'm high as shit. Now I'm telling you this not because he was ugly; no, no, he was far from. Something far worse.

"Looking gorgeous"

His words rang in my ears, the gullible and slightly teen girl that I was, lapped up his comments and it didn't take long before I was smitten. Or just in need of a quick screw.

"Want another drink?"

I remember very little after that question until I was getting out of a taxi and facing a seemingly familiar front door.

I could have sworn I had been here before.

I shrugged it off and quickly put his hand up my skirt. Only to the thigh, I mean I was easy but I wasn't a total tart. (That came later in my teenage years).

As the swirling of salivating tongues began, I tried in vain to remember his name.

Jim, Justin, Johnny...Johnathon that was it, I remember now. I giggled to myself as he pushed me down onto the sofa and told me to,

"Get comfortable, I'll just get us a couple of drinks".

This is where shit hit the fan and out of all of the embarrassing shit that has occurred in my life, (and there's been a lot) this has to be by far the worse and most cringe-worthy experience of my life.

First I began to undo my bra, after all, lads these days were utterly useless at it so I thought a helping hand wouldn't hurt. Then, I began to feel guilty realising I had left my girls for a one night stand. At least, I assumed I had.

Quickly checking my phone I noticed I had a few messages,

"Ring us when you finish, we'll be at Claire's"

I loved my girls, they knew the importance of a quick screw.

Then, I saw them, the pictures on the mantle. That front door, I knew I had recognised it. And that name, Johnathon.

I mean, I couldn't blame myself right? After all, I was incredibly drunk and I hadn't visited these areas since I was a little kid. Not all families are close right and obviously, I wasn't the only one who had forgotten. Johnathon was to blame too.

Or did he remember? Oh god, I bare not think that, I was already thinking of ways to wiggle out as I shamelessly whipped off the bra and shoved it in my bag, having no time to do it back up again.

This was back in the day before Uber or Facebook was massive. My Space was still the range, MSN and Habbo Hotel, so I rang Claire. She was the sensible one.

She arranged for her Dad to pick me up and told me to hide in the bathroom.

"Hide, I can't just hide".

She began shamelessly laughing at me, I could hear the tears streaming down her face.

God this girl was a bitch but how I loved her in a crisis.

I began sneaking to the bathroom, knowing exactly where it was, which only made me cringe more. Then, he came out.

"You ok?"

I don't know whether it was the few minutes apart that had sobered him up equally to me or maybe he had recognised me after all and finally fir the pieces together. But, at that moment that he asked this question, I saw his eyes cringe.

Yep, the very realisation of this sticky situation had hit Johnathon too and we both took a step back.

"I'm just going to wait in the bathroom until my friends Dad arrives".

"Yes, good idea". He quickly responded, before turning the brightest shade of red I've ever seen and simultaneously zipping up his trousers.

It didn't take long before I was stumbling out of that recognisable front door and into my girl's car. She had come along for the ride, of course, her parents being the relaxed type, never questioned our underage drinking.

The minute she saw me, she pissed herself laughing.

"So, how was he? How was your cousin?"

I shamelessly hung my head at the thought of what could have unfolded had I not seen the pictures of my Aunt and 3 cousins; including Johnathon, on that mantlepiece.

It had been many years since I had seen them all, I must have been 5 or 6 when we last saw each other so was I really to blame?

Of all the clubs in all the world and he had to be in mine.

It's safe to say I turned a lot of people off by asking if we were related before going in for a kiss over the years after that incident. Luckily, I didn't ask my current partner that question but I do often ask him what he would do if he found out we were related.

I get the same look from him I give myself in the mirror when I think about this memory.

Did I ever tell my parents? Absolutely not. Will I ever? Well, they read my articles so sorry. Mum, Dad, I didn't know, I didn't know.

So that's the story of me kissing my cousin and how my parents were finally told.

Enjoy my embarrassment. You're welcome for the laughs.

Thank you so much for reading my work. Your support gives me the push to do better every day.

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