It was a jeans and a nice top type of night, the kind of night that you never have high hopes for so you shave absolutely nowhere, only put tan on your chest, and plan to be back in bed by 12.
I was out with one of the girls, a little pink gin catch up in one of our locals. Sometime after 10, in between chatter, we were approached by two men of a similar age. We started chatting and not surprisingly, both headed off to get to know each of them.
He was by no means my usual type, so I thought: “GREAT, SOME HOPE AT LAST!” Maybe it was time for something new, but then again, maybe not. He brought me out to some deserted smoking area that looked like nobody had been there since 1974, yet the one at the other end of the bar was hopping. Sipping on my gin, I thought things were a bit odd, but my entire love life up until this point had been odd, so what else did I expect? After some conversation, I asked: “Do you want to head out to the other smoking area?” in between his swirls of smoke. He nodded, and then proceeded to walk ahead. Well, actually, he picked up a bit of pace which was pretty weird considering twenty seconds before he was mad to know the ins and outs of my life.
Anyway, when I reached the other smoking area, I found him standing there sheepishly with two other women. I walked over, greeted by daggers from these women, which led to a peak: “WHY DO THESE THINGS ALWAYS HAPPEN TO ME?” moment. So, as you can guess these gals were a total atmosphere hoover but he suddenly had the life of a wet mop. “What’s your name?” asked one of the girls. I told her my name before smiling and asking hers. By this stage I badly needed my bathroom besties for emotional backup. Lover boy then decided to bring his confidence back and stated a mumbled: “This is, er, my girlfriend…” as he pointed at the first angry woman. I nearly dropped. He had actually been hitting on me whilst out with his girlfriend. It was one of those horrifically awkward moments where you didn’t know whether to die laughing or to just give up on men completely. I couldn’t form words apart from: “Well, I’m gonna go, because this is awkward…” She replied with a very sassy: “What’s awkward about it?” and I didn’t have the heart to say: “Oh I don’t know, maybe the fact that your slime-ball of a fella was all over me like a rash about 12 seconds ago…”
I legged it inside, ready to save my bestie from the grasp of the slime-ball’s partner in crime, she asked me to go to the bathroom with her as a getaway before asking him if his mate had a girlfriend, to which he let us know: “Oh, I don’t know if he has a girlfriend or not…” Yeah, not a red flag of a response at all when they’re all on a group night out. I was then met with a chorus of: “This could only happen to you!” when I told my friends about it. Too bloody true. Years later and I still cringe, anytime I picture myself out in that smoking area, awkwardly smiling whilst being stared out of it, all I can wonder is if I caused a major row that night, and remind myself of the the fact that my type doesn’t usually love me, but then again neither do the rest of the twats.
