Girthfessions
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Two Boys and Their JD - a love story
CT and AR had a problem, and the problem was that they were absolutely besotted with their mate JD.
JD was, by all accounts, a normal bloke. He had a fringe he was too attached to, an encyclopedic knowledge of penalty shootouts, and a laugh that started slow and then fell apart entirely. CT and AR thought he was the greatest man alive. They had never told him this. They simply expressed it, daily, through the medium of pilgrimage.
"Right," said AR one morning, lacing up his trainers. "Where's the shrine-crawl taking us today?"
"JD Sports first," said CT, with the gravity of a man planning a state funeral. "Obviously."
So they went. They stood beneath the glowing red logo and admired it, not because they wanted anything, but because those were his initials, and that meant something. They texted JD a photo. JD replied: why are you two at Sports Direct. It was JD Sports. They forgave him instantly.
Then, naturally, JD Wetherspoons — which they had decided, against all evidence, was a tribute. They ordered two pints and a curry club and toasted him across a sticky table.
"To JD," said CT.
"To JD," echoed AR. "The Messiah has risen."
By evening, they'd visited a JD dry cleaner's and a JD travel agent's, photographing each one and sending it to a group chat they made. JD, baffled and faintly touched, finally texted: do you both fancy me or something.
They looked at the message. They looked at each other.
"He's onto us," said AR.
"He was always going to find out," said CT.
So they typed back, in unison, the truest thing two boys had ever sent: a little bit, yeah.
JD read it. JD started typing. JD stopped typing.
Then, three dots, and finally: pints on me. Load back in.
And that, somehow, was the greatest gesture of love any of them had ever made.
發表於: May 28, 2026, 1:41 p.m.