So, the reason for the title is that for once I actually met someone on a night out, a shock I know! I never do that, in the history of the last 2 legally able to go clubbing years (plus the non-legal ones, illegal would be the right word I suppose) I have never once pulled, nor found someone who is thigh rubblingly nice. That has changed! Actually, thinking about it, I met some dude called Quentin in Oceana when I was 18 (yes, I know, Quentin.. unfortunate), his name started off a bit weird, as did his introduction. He basically just came up whilst I was drunkenly propping myself up against a bannister, held my hand and informed me that I was the fittest one there. Now, those of you who have seen me in my very drunk stage of the evening will be able to confirm that when I hit the need for railings as stabilisers, I am far from the fittest, infact I'd go as far as to say that the pygmy hippo at London Zoo is fitter. And probably more understandable. So anyway, I got this dudes number, and surprise! When he didnt have his beer goggles on, I'm a minger. Which is totally backwards to the situation, as I am the fittest in Oceana in the day, purely for the fact that I'm the only one in Oceana in the day.
History lesson has ended. Last night whilst in an undisclosed bar in and undisclosed town which has a martian in it (if that helps anyone figure it out..) I actually met a cute guy, who seemed to be interested in me. Weird. It kinda threw me, I've had 2 years of grinding girls (I'm a bender by the way, just thought I'd clarify that now) and now that a boy shows interest my braincells went
"Mayday mayday! We don't know how to make your limbs match the contours of a boobless body!"
..I gave it a go at least. A little bit of awkward waist holding, a brief holding of hands in the "lets go to the bar" portion of the night. Small steps! Those of you who are unlucky enough to get my first hand relationship talks will know that I usually go in all guns blazing, the poor unfortunate soul gets so scared that their spleen explodes, they go to hospital and I never hear from them again. So this time I'm going slow, I've decided. The hospital bills are too much for me at the moment. But seriously taking it slow, I'm not gonna deny, I had a bit of a lip based kiss, a kiss which did throw up a weird situation actually. Basically in a bar which is generally accepted to be a bit of a straight bar where the boys go cruising for a bit of the fishy Ferrari, me and my new beau found ourselves waiting in the same queue for the toilet - fact of life number 1; most gays will only use cubicles due to urinals increasing the risk of inappropriate willy gazing. But in this queue - we didnt plan to go together, it was an unexpected rendéz vous - I informed him that I had to leave, and went in for a bit of a lip lock, as I pulled away a chav pushed me forwards a little. Instantly my mind went, "oh God, he's gonna call me a big poof and I'm getting a black eye as a present." But no, much the opposite, he simply went, "when you guys are done mind moving forwards, I can't see the mirror and I wanna make sure I look good for the gash".
Ok, so he's not the classiest of the chavs, but it would appear that people accept the odd gay kiss in the odd situation. That or he was so pissed he thought the recipient of my kiss was a girl.. I hope not! So here's the deal, I'm gonna see how it goes with this guy (slowly of course), and I'll let you know here - no names for the time being, wanna be safe and not look like a broadcasting to the world stalker before it goes anywhere, if it goes anywhere that is! Until then (then being tomorrow, I have a story about the deer today in Bushey Park to tell you all), I shall depart to my child catching van with my collection of free candy for all..
Love to all, hate to some, chav acceptance for me. xx
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Spout yer mouth..