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Tuesday, November 25

Friday Night

Damn, Friday night was a weird one. I'd already been in classes since 9am, and just as I was finishing my last one at 6pm, I got a text telling me to come to the Waterfront after. The Waterfront is the name of the student union bar at my uni.

I popped up there to meet my housemates, and had a few beers. We decided to go to Phase, the name of the Friday night 'spectacular' at the student union club, Tutu's. Earlier last week, we had decided not to go to Phase in honour of my birthday, because of the ridiculously early kick-off of the Rugby World Cup final on Saturday morning. Nevertheless, we decided to go.

While we were still in the Waterfront, I had a sambuca bought for me (lush!), as well as a triple Aftershock. Aftershock is alright to drink, but only in singles. The three different flavours mixed together are hard going. Eventually (a little the worse for wear) we made it up to Phase, and the merriment continued.

Up to a point, at any rate.

I had my usual depressive period during the night, right at the time when the three housemates I was there with had all got themselves a lady friend for the evening. I was feeling particularly sorry for myself. Again.

It picked up again by the end of the night, except for the minor scuffle that threw itself onto the floor in front of us while we were all singing 'Vindaloo.' Don't ask.

We wandered down the Strand to the McDonalds (don't worry, I didn't buy anything), and almost got involved with this fight that was kicking off. The police turned up, so we didn't bother. Matt did manage to grab a very, very nice Christian Dior overcoat though. It must be worth 250+, and has since become the house coat. We are bad men.

When we got home, I figured texting my friend Laura would be a good idea. She's my friend from back home who also lives in London, and I love her to bits. She's also the only girl I've ever turned down after coming on to me. Come to think of it, she's the only girl that's ever come on to me. :( Anyway, I think I can quote the message I sent her verbatim:
Hey babe, just wondering if you can tell me why I am so inept / incompetent / unconfident / uncomfortable around women? xxx

I think I've sent her a similar message at least twice before, so I imagine she's getting very sick of it by now. To her credit, her reply (at 8.30am, not 5am!) was very, very understanding and lovely. Be confident, she says. Christ, not a chance of that, I'm afraid. As I said, I'm very unconfident around women. I think I'm just waiting for someone to fall into my lap, possibly literally. Dammit.


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