“So I heard you bummed a tramp last night,” Kate said with evident glee, as she paused during her gig on Saturday night to give me a kiss on the cheek.
“Well, something like that.”
Already hunched back over her record box again she tweaks a few buttons on the mixer making no perceptible difference to the music.
“I’ll tell you about it later” I called, but she already had her head phones on.
So this is the story.
On Friday I started my evening with birthday drinks for Melody, a friend I’ve known since I was ten. I bought us each a bounty bar-tini but had to skedaddle to make the one off party in Convent Garden at East West - which was fun until I bumped into the Ibiza snog boy, gave him an uncomfortable kiss on both cheeks and decided to quit while I was ahead.
Well, maybe not quit, quit. At Shadow Lounge I met up with Gavin and his maybe boyfriend Joseph, who was lovely; all irish and sparkly eyes. We chatted for a while, had a bop, drank a few more beers and I was contemplating the bus ride home when I noticed a very handsome man had just arrived. He looked like a hybrid of Jesus Christ and the guy from the YSL M7 ads. Beautiful. As luck would have it I’d just finished my beer, so I sauntered over to the bar, near enough to him to be in smiling distance and bought a drink for the road. I was looking a little rock-a-billy in a retro t-shirt and with my hair slicked back - out of necessity mostly since it’s so long now that the ends are getting a bit ratty. I think it suited me, but I instantly felt over coiffed and under dressed standing near someone, who I now realised, had the most chewable lips and a smile you could easily drown in. It took me a few seconds to realise that the smile was directed at me.
“What are you drinking?” he mouthed.
“Er, beer?” I mouthed back. He nodded and beckoned me over with his finger. When I reached him he held my arm and kissed me on the lips.
“I love you.” He said, beaming.
“Um, I love you too” I said, feeling my face flush red.
He handed me a shot of tequila which I downed in a flash, taking a few moments to make strange faces, poke my tongue out and go “Gah!” a few times. When I recovered I looked up at the handsome Jesus. He was swaying a little.
“Do you want to sit down?”
As we started walking away from the bar I realised how very drunk he was. We reached a little alcove with seats but J missed the chair and grabbed hold of me, toppling us both backwards onto the floor. So much for romance, I thought, picking him up.
His knees weren’t working so I turned to a random man.
“Can you help me get him out of here? He’s very drunk” I explained unnecessarily.
Together we managed to haul J round the bar and up the stairs. Two bouncers helped us along the corridor and out into the frosty street - evicting him quite politely, I thought, for big burly men.
“Are you going to be OK?” I asked. He didn’t reply. His knees kept giving up and I had to hold him to stop him falling. “Where do you live?” Nothing.
Just then a police car drives past.
“Is he alright?”
“Yes, just very drunk. I’m taking him home now.”
J managed to stand up just long enough for the policeman to wind the window up and drive on. I gritted my teeth. “Fuck!” I whispered under my breath.
Now, any sane person would have dumped J on the side of the street and gone back inside; but what with my slight hero complex and my inability to make sober decisions after a few drinks, I propped him up against the wall and ran to get my coat, returning moments later to hail us both a cab.
Continues tomorrow - no really, I promise…