Just home from last night (not in THAT way, I stayed at my friend's flat, I honestly WASN'T being a dirty stopout - chance would be a fine thing!. After getting pissed in her flat on Cheeky Vimtos (a mixture of port and Blue Wkd - which is surprisingly delicious) out of a leaky cocktail fountain, chowing down on a Chinese takeaway and not managing to get out until ten pm, it was only logical that we would have to go dancing - so headed off to the local club of the area . . . The Shed. Cheesy pop at its finest - in theory!
By the time we got there, I was already pretty damn drunk so sensibly, for moi, decided to go onto water. Didn't stop me dancing away like a maniac though - before long I was feeling decidedly warm and had a major bad case of clubber's hair (you know when you've been dancing so hard that the underneath of your hair ends up all wet and suddenly you have hair which is bordering on an afro, no matter how straight it started? If anyone knows of a way to avoid this happening, i would be extremely grateful for any advice!) And I was looking around for any good looking (and possibly desperate) guys that might be able to help me break my snog drought (four months and counting . . .) and coming up with amazingly few. As is always the way, the majority of the presentable ones already had a girlfriend with her tongue halfway down their throat, so I kind of struck out on that idea.
Towards the end of the night, some guy started dancing right behind me and one of my mates said "I think he's trying to dance with you P". Fair enough - I decided to give him a try. Turned around . . . wasn't amazingly impressed. Nice body but a bit smug and sleazy looking. I can't really describe him but thought, well, who am I to judge, he might be a nice guy.
"Who are you?" he asked me, while pulling me away from my friends into the middle of the dance floor.
"Who are YOU?" I retorted wittily. Neither of us introduced ourselves in the end.
So we danced for a bit and the longer we danced the more I became convinced that this was NOT someone I wanted to kiss. Not remotely. The smug smile on his face didn't help - neither did the stupid gestures he was making as we danced. Not to mention the fact that at least three guys walked past and asked him where his girlfriend was . . . By the time he started pretending to pimp me out to the guy standing next to him, I'd had enough. "I'm going to find my friends," I said, turning away.
"Wait, sorry, I was only kidding," he said, looking a bit taken aback.
"Nah, you're alright." He'd provided me with the perfect excuse to walk off, much to my relief. I didn't even look back. Let's just say that one was NOT a missed opportunity, and not someone I'm going to regret not kissing . . .
Speaking of which, I've officially given up on the London guy by the way. Still no reply and that's been over a week now. And no point in chasing him, given the distance, so that's that. You never know, we may run into one another again at some point, although it's probably unlikely. Oh well . . .