Friday, December 17
Promises, Promises
"Are you having a heavy one tonight?" Phil asked me on Tuesday evening at about 10 o'clock, as we strolled down to Amadeus for the final Tuesday night Erasmus party before Christmas.The thing was, I was genuinely not planning to go all out and get smashed. Genuinely.
As things panned out, I eventually got back home at 5.30 on Wednesday afternoon. These things happen.
It all started off so well too. I didn't start drinking until gone 10 in the evening, which is a rarity for me. I was taking things slowly too, only drinking beer and not doing that too quickly, since I was talking to absolutely everyone in there.
Due to the fact that it was the last Amadeus party before we all went our separate ways for Christmas, it was rammed full of people I knew. I was chatting to Spanish friends, Italians, Swiss girls, an Australian (it's almost in Europe, right?), my American friends as well as all of the English that I hang round with.
It took so long to get anywhere in there because you were constantly stopping to talk to everyone. It was an epic journey trying to get from the dancefloor to the bar, so I was drinking quite slowly, as I mentioned. All part of the plan for a quiet one. Yeah, like it was deliberate...
It all went wrong, I believe, when I went to the bar to buy some cocktails. I was planning to get one for myself and for one of my friends, but it turned out that she'd bought one for herself too. I was thus stuck with two cocktails to drink. What was I to do but drink them both? Take one for the team and all that...
I was chatting to loads of people, as I mentioned, and a couple that spring to mind include the Norwegian girl whose name I can't remember but I play rugby with, an American guy and a German heavy metal fan. I spoke in German to the former and the latter, but in English with the American. My German improves exponentially as soon as I drink anything, and a loud club is the perfect place to speak, as your mistakes won't be heard / noticed.
I don't remember exactly what it was I was talking about with the Norwegian girl, but it must have been pretty enthralling because we were there for a good 15 minutes or so. Stupid alcohol-befuddled memory.
The conversation with the German was much more memorable. He's a friend of a friend of a friend, I think, and we just happened to end up chatting together at one point. I was introduced as being from England, to which he told me that he was going to London for a gig later in the week (tonight in fact. Shit, it's Friday already). I asked who, and he said that I wouldn't know them, because they were a heavy metal band.
He didn't look like a metal fan, and I generally stay away from looking like I might like death metal, so it was kind of a mutual surprise when I knew the band(s) he was off to see. The Haunted were the main support to someone else, and we spent ages talking about The Haunted and their predecessor At The Gates. Oh, and all in German too, which was great for me.
I told him about a few places he should check out during the Friday daytime, and also to buy a copy of Time Out, since it has listings for all manner of gigs in every imaginable genre under the sun. I was a little jealous, to be honest, because I miss London quite a bit, both the city itself and the people there. It'd be good to get back, if only for a weekend. Maybe in the new year.
Finally, I must turn to the conversation I had with Cameron, an American friend of mine. Unfortunately, I have to return to the Friday night previously to explain it properly. I'd gone to a birthday party / drinking session for a couple of friends of mine, but had got there very late, as I was also out saying goodbye to another friend who was leaving town the next day forever. Sniff. I'll write properly about that next.
When I got there, I was pretty stone-cold sober, whereas everyone else was well on their way, especially Cameron. He came over to me and we talked about this and that for a while. Well, I say 'we' talked, but I actually mean he slurred at me endlessly whilst I tried to throw in the odd word from time to time.
His main conversation topic was that I am now his hero, because he thinks that I have Jillian eating out of the palm of my hand. I don't, let's make this clear here. I think we've both realised that nothing is going to happen, but we're still good friends. It's just that Cameron hasn't quite realised this yet, and thinks she's still pining after me, and that I'm leading her on. I swear that I'm not, and it's not like that.
He kept asking me (put on an American midwest accent to do this properly) "How the fuck do you do it man? You're like my fucking hero! What's your fucking secret man?" and so on and so forth. I was trying not to answer, or at least to just make light of it, but the questions and adoration kept on coming.
His eyes were wide too, his enthusiasm was so all-encompassing and on the surface. It was funny, to be honest, because he was so very drunk, and I was so very sober. He then asked me how he should go about getting with an Italian girl at the party, since she was "fucking hooooooooot man".
On Tuesday, when we spoke again at Amadeus, the theme was roughly the same. I think he may have even said the exact sentences again: "How the fuck do you do it man?" definitely came out more than once. I asked him how things had gone with the girl, and he struggled to remember who the fuck she was.
He asked me if I'd seen her in the place that night, since he couldn't properly remember what she looked like. I didn't have much of an idea, because at the party on Friday she was just another face in the crowd, nothing memorable. I kind of fobbed Cameron off by telling him that I'd let him know if I saw her, which seemed to satisfy him.
He then told me that I had to score that night, that I needed "to fuck someone", whoever it may be. Cheers for the advice, like that wasn't something I was thinking about myself. I like it when people feel the need to remind you of something like that.
I was one of the last to leave Amadeus, and I think it was with a couple of my friends that I got a taxi up to the student village and thus Bar Drei. Why on earth I went to Bar Drei I have no idea. Remember how it was going to be a quiet one? Erm, yeah, sorry about that. I blame those two cocktails.
We drank in there for seemingly ages, Christ knows to what hour. I had a few little blue cocktails with whatever in them. Probably too many, no doubt. I reckon it must have been sometime around 5 that we left the bar, and for some reason I couldn't be arsed to walk home. Luckily, a friend said that I could stay at hers.
Before I go any further, she asked me not to use her name on the blog here (she already knew about it, as do most of my friends), for fear of upsetting someone in our circle of friends. I'm sure my friends will be able to figure out who it was anyway, if the gossip chain hasn't already spread the knowledge about... Anyway, her name for now shall be Ms X, because I'm too lazy to come up with something more inventive.
Ms X kindly let me stay over and share her bed. We were both pretty drunk, Bar Drei's cheap prices having that effect on us, so it was possibly no surprise that things happened.
No, there was no sex, just a lot of kissing and some fumbling pawing of each other. That was it, as far as I know, things went no further than that. I don't even know how long we were at it for, or at what time we eventually dropped off to sleep. It could have been minutes, it could have been hours. Time has no meaning at these, erm, times, right?
I woke up at about midday (well, ish), as did Ms X, but neither of us could haul our asses out of bed, except for the constant replenishment of the glasses of water. Boy did we need those. There was no repeat of any of the passion from the night before, but at least things weren't uncomfortable between us.
It happened, it was a good thing that it did, but neither of us particularly wanted to follow it up. She's a friend, a good friend, but there's going to be nothing else that will happen between us. To be honest, I don't know why something did happen, save for the effects of alcohol. We've always liked each other, sure, but only as friends, nothing more.
Unless I've been missing some signs for the last 3 months. I'm pretty sure I haven't though. I know I'm useless at picking up such signs, but I'm not that bloody useless! Nope, this was a one-night thing, fuelled by our good friend alcohol, and I can't see it happening again any time soon.
As I said, it was great, but in order to save the friendship we're not going to pursue things further. We've seen each other since (later that day, in fact), and everything's been just like it was. We both know that we were quite, quite drunk, but it's good to know nothing's been spoilt by it.
Well, maybe part of my reputation as an Asexual Worm, but that's not a bad thing, is it? I do hope I can get rid of that moniker permanently before the year's out. Stupid, inaccurate nickname.
Neither of us were particularly enthralled with the idea of getting out of bed, so we lounged around there for hours and hours. We talked about anything and everything, laughing at random things and letting the conversation meander to wherever it wanted to go.
I kept telling myself, and announcing out loud, that I needed to get up, so that I could at least do something with my day, but the warmth of the bed was a tough shackle to break out of. It was cold outside too.
I eventually convinced myself to get up and return home, having wasted an entire day and also being very hungry, but it was not until gone 5 in the afternoon that I managed to get back to my own place. For shame, for shame.
And so ends another tale of a drunken night out. I do honestly do more than go out every night, even if it hasn't felt like it for the last couple of weeks. It's the end of term, that's my excuse.
Now I just need to think up an excuse for last night. Oh, and tonight, because I have another party to go to. This is the life I have chosen...
1 Comments:
I was doing a google search for haircuts today and somehow found your blogs. Curiosity got me to reading many of them.
I thought I would just make a comment on how I'm impressed at how you can remember so many fine details about your life and your friends. I personally don't have many friends, by choice, but find your life somewhat intreaging and think your lucky to be able to travil as much as you do, and to be to speak german and italian. thats so cool.
I see you haven't blogged in some time now. Are you ok?
I've always wanted to see London and Italy, my family is from Italy. I live in Pismo Beach California and have never been able to leave the states cause a don't qualify for a visa to leave the country. Something stupid I did when I was a "wee lad" as you brits say. I spent a long time in prison which I think screwed me up socially. I'm scared I go back to prison if I get hang with the wrong people.
Just admire your freedom and outgoing personality. Stay free and live life to the fullest Rob.
Tony,
wernerslave@yahoo.com
By 
, at 11:49 PM
