That isn't the worst part. It got a bazillion times more awkward when he read me a poem he wrote about his dead cat.
I made a nest in his bed. I'm not leaving
I'm not getting off this floor. I love this floor
What did I say to him last night?
Something along the lines of "your not here, I'm going to fuck sam. call me later babe, this won't take long, love you"
all in all not a bad night