Sometimes it is the amount of alcohol you consume that dictates how all will end and as usual mine ended with me sitting in my bed alone, stuffing my face with more MacDonald’s than you would think is possible and then woke up with a chip stuck to my face...ok the chip thing didn't happen but it has before and no doubt will again.
It all started out so nicely before I went to the Bodega night, I had accidentally sent a link of a wedding dress to the guy (who was probably the most lovely guy in the world) who I was to go on a date with the following Sunday. Then just to make sure he thought I was completely mental I then panic texted 73 times to make sure he knew it was in no way a proposition or request to which I was met with a wall of silence...
So deciding my fate was sealed I decided to get on with my evening and went and watched some really amazing flamenco dancers who looked 100% authentic until one of them spoke and had the voice of a Bethnal Green’ian Lily Savage. That slightly tainted the allure but still they looked amazing; and I, in textbook me style, summoned my quarter Basque-ness and donned a red dress and claimed I was Spanish for the evening...obvs.
We had some G&T's and discovered that with every alcoholic drink you get free tapas. This is like my dream in life. You buy alcohol and someone gives you free food?! Well I've made it, that's it, nothing can top that.
Anyway the tapas were heavy on the garlic which usually I wouldn't mind but I was supposed to be 'accidentally' bumping in to a guy that I was interested in...I told the two really hot guys serving the drinks and tapas this and then proceeded to tell them how I would just stand back and then if I needed to kiss I would just do a strategic lunge so they wouldn't get a whiff till it was too late.
My new friend J and I, (always introduce each other as 'new') found a pack of glow sticks in a bar, decorated ourselves, and hid the evidence...well not the evidence of us wearing the actual stolen products which were literally glowing from our necks, heads, arms...and my friend’s bra. We then decided to dance like no one watching to Techno music and dance we did and watch everyone definitely did!
We also became really good at really lame Parkour, jumping on the 2ft high stage and jumping off shouting 'Parkour' and leaning off walls (and we wonder why we are single.) We danced out of there like two drugged up ravers from the '90's literally one by one all the 'cool' people hanging around the dance floor (but too cool to dance/have fun) turned to look at us. Their faces a mixture of mockery and (I think) jealousy! Not giving a shit what people think is the best and probably the only way to really have fun!
So the guy who I was supposed to be 'bumping into' calls me, asks where I am and tells me to look out of the window of the bar I'm in, warily I comply and then he proceeds to describe what I'm wearing and what I'm doing! Obviously I immediately accuse him of being a stalker/creep/murderer/weirdo. Turns out he lives in the flat opposite and when he tells me I look closer and there is a man on the phone wearing his dressing gown. Obviously I then accused him of being a flasher/rapist/creep/murderer/weirdo and then he says 'Oh excuse my attire I'm wearing my sofa robe' I'm pretty much in love at this point, I want a monogrammed 'sofa robe' made of the finest unicorn hair... We agree to meet in 15 minutes to get a drink (he was going to get dressed) till I realised it was completely inappropriate to meet someone as drunk as I was. We then (J and I) decided it was completely appropriate to follow J's ex-boyfriend down the road, ducking and hiding behind cars, bins, lamp posts, each other whilst pissing ourselves laughing and probably being the loudest and most conspicuous stalkers that ever stalked anyone ever. I'm really surprised he had no idea...unless he knew and just thought it was best to ignore us, probably completely terrified!
Yours, still hungover...