Thursday, November 4
So There's This Girl, Right...
Yet again I find myself in the slightly awkward position of writing about someone who reads this blog. How I get myself into these situations I shall never be able to determine, but so be it. At least it makes for interesting reading for everyone else, even if I have to be very particular about what I say. These are the times when I wish my blog was anonymous, or at least that I didn't tell my actual friends about it.I know a few of them read it, including one of the Exeter girls here. I'm not sure which one it is, but I know it's one of you. And I'm coming to get you... [Insert evil cackle here]
Anyway, here goes nothing. Give me a shout when you read this, just so I know that I haven't offended or upset you. x
It all started on Friday night, what with the going out drinking and everything. Well, not strictly drinking, in my defence. I went to the apartment of an American guy that I'd met in a bar a few weeks ago for a house party of sorts. He'd invited me earlier in the week, and I'd figured that I should go to give my liver a night off from what promised to be a very hectic weekend's worth of drinking. Or to give it a warm-up, depending on how you look at it.
It wasn't one of those drink-as-much-as-you-can-and-then-throw-up-in-the-toilet house parties, more of a social gathering. Which was cool for me, since I'd been to far too many of the former already. They're fun until the first person passes out. Then the ambulance comes, often with the police, and it all goes to shit. Stupid house parties.
I was amongst the minority, in that I was non-Russian, but we were all speaking German, which was fucking brilliant for me. I need the practice, believe me. I had a few beers, was chatting to a load of people, when it suddenly occurred to me that I should learn some Russian.
I like to know how to say the basics (hello, goodbye, please, thankyou, how are you, good thanks and you, cheers) in as many languages as possible, and here was the perfect opportunity to learn them in Russian. My teacher was also a very pretty blonde girl, which helped me pay attention.
I spent about 20 minutes learning how to say the above words in Russian, and ended up writing them down on a piece of paper to take home with me. I wrote them phonetically, so I'd know how to say them again, and it's worked. I can pretty much remember at least 'hello' and 'goodbye' off the top of my head, which is a fair old achievement. Now for the other 6,547,453 languages in the world.
I was at this party without my usual bunch of friends, since they'd planned to go to a club that evening, so it was a a bit of a surprise to see the front door opening and a good few of them trooping in. They knew I was there, but didn't really know the host. Nevertheless, in they came, and soon made themselves at home. Quentin (the host) was very accomodating, and didn't seem at all put out by their arrival, thank Christ.
They'd missed the improptu Russian singalong which happened a bit earlier (their loss, it was actually really funny), but were still able to get sociable with everyone else there. We left sometime around 1, and headed up to The Dubliner for the second day in a row. Damn us. The Dubliner's gone a bit downhill in my opinion, but we still like it there.
Especially as it's open until 3am on a Friday. Always a mistake when you go in with a load of drunken girls. We got back on it, and I was pretty much half-cut when I left. Not completely pissed, you understand, but a little. Pleasantly tipsy, you could say.
And so to the girl. Seeing as I've named her on this blog before, I'll use her name again: Jillian. I think she and her friend Erin were a bit pissed, because they kept ringing me up, asking me to come round and see them. I must have answered my phone about 3 or 4 times whilst in the Dubliner, and always making an excuse as to why we were taking so long. It wasn't that I didn't want to pop round, it's just that we were enjoying ourselves and somehow taking ages with our drinks.
I should add here that this isn't the first batch of drunken phone calls I've received from the pair of them. They're hilarious when drunk together, and are always egging each other on to do random things. Such as ring me. On the previous Tuesday, they were at a bar called Amadeus, which is the standard Tuesday night place for foreign students. I didn't go, because for one reason and another I was knackered.
Thankfully, I remembered to turn my phone off before I went to bed quite early, because when I got up in the morning I had 4 txts and 2 answerphone messages waiting for me. The second message was bloody hilarious too. It was Erin, explaining that the pair of them were laid on top of a car outside Amadeus, for no good reason, and were disappointed that I wasn't there to have fun with them. Genius phone message. I almost burst out laughing in the middle of the bus as I listened to it, which would have been a little weird for everyone around me.
I still didn't think / realise that there was anything in particular between myself and Jillian, mainly because I simply didn't expect there to be. As I've said on numerous occasions here, I'm terrible at reading any signs, and even worse at acting on them.
This time, however, I went round to their place. It's only 10 minutes by foot from mine, so I could easily make it home whenever the night drew to a close. I never did make it home that night.
There were a few other Americans about, all of whom I already knew, and everyone was well on their way to being quite pissed. Jillian and Erin had sobered up somewhat, but insisted on reminding me every five minutes that I "should've seen them an hour or two ago." If only for comedy value, I wish that I had.
It got later and later, and the numbers dwindled. Eventually there was only me and Jillian left. We went into her room, next door to the kitchen, and chatted in there for a while. I was thinking about leaving, but also thinking about staying. It was getting very late (or early, if I think about it), and I should have probably been in bed already.
I don't know who suggested me staying there, I really don't. I simply can't remember that detail. I'll blame her (private joke).
Holy fantastic idea Batman!
OK, so who's expecting a replay of the first time? Afraid not, nothing of that sort happened. If you're only reading this post for that sort of material, sorry to disappoint you.
For those who recognise that I still only possess "all the authentic fumbling uncertainties" (taken from the Observer article about me and this blog) of an innocent, wide-eyed little boy, this post is more aimed at you. Well, not aimed at you, but at least in your range of interests.
So yeah, we didn't go any further than kissing. Honestly. It was great kissing, very passionate, but no further. Which is good. As you all know, I go very slowly, almost continental-drift-like, when initiating anything of this kind, and this just about fits in with my usual style.
She didn't seem to mind either. At least as far as I know. There were no complaints, at any rate.
We spent hours kissing and talking before eventually catching a few hours sleep as the sun came up. I think we woke again in the late morning, and resumed where we'd left off. I remember Jillian having to go answer the door to her apartment block, where I heard her talking to Erin briefly. It was a funny conversation too.
Erin: So, are you alone in there?
Jillian: I'm not answering that...
Erin: Ooooooooooohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh....................
[Erin leaves]
I eventually made it home at about 2 in the afternoon, which isn't bad going. Ahem. I kept trying to leave, but then snuggling back down with Jillian for another 20 minutes of kissing and so forth. Damn her and damn me.
So, is anything going to come of this? I'll write up Sunday night's events before I answer that one. How's that for a cliffhanger ending? I should write for a TV series.
