So, Bristol has fast become one of my favourite places in the world. It has become a place for many a good story or two, for the morning after a pretty unexpected night out. Sunday night was of course, no exception.
“We will just go out for a few drinks”, they said. “Keep it chilled”, they said. “See where the night takes us. If we fancy a dance we can, if not we can come back and chill”. So two bottles of Prosecco down at 5:30pm early Sunday evening; and the main course all over the floor, the night turned into something very different…
So, let’s look at priorities for a second shall we? Clearly mine aren’t focused on meeting a guy and hey, being a normal human being – oh no, that would be far to easy, and I dunno, human maybe… No, no, we are talking about me here. So, the night has rolled on, us girls have gone for a dance, I walk myself off to the bar, grab a drink, do a shot with the bar man – as you do – and go back to keep dancing. Really, my brain was on a wave and I was in heels so needed to, you know, not die by falling over, so I wasn’t really looking around.
I’m approached by this guy – the wing man – who told me his brother thought I was nice, and wanted to chat. So I looked over at his brother (you gotta gauge the face) – nice looking guy – thought ‘why not?!’ and went over. We go to the bar, start chatting, joking round, telling each other what we do, you know, the usual. Obviously, I love what I do, so told him all about it and didn’t let him get a word in edgewise. The lights eventually come up, we get ushered out and before we leave, I ask the girl behind the bar for a pen to write down the name of the charity I work for, on. His. Hand… and also my number.
On. The. Guy’s. Hand… like this is not the 21st century and he didn’t have his phone out in front of him, in his other hand, unlocked and ready to take my number… Really, Selina?! Oh my Christ! There is a reason you are destined to die alone. And he seemed normal. I haven’t heard from him. Obviously.
So what have we learnt from this? Drinking gives you great stories. When you love your career, you literally find every reason to bring it up, including writing it on a guy’s hand. Old school methods don’t work, well because of soap I’m guessing… and, I’m a twat. A hilarious one, but still… I am hanging my head in shame… again.