So there were two of them last night. The tall leggy blonde sitting on the podium, and the cute brunette in the funky dress. I think it's a man's right to scope out the so-called 'talent' when walking into a club, and these were the two I had my eye on. As the night wore on, I noticed that, despite being absolutely gorgeous, the leggy blonde was not throwing down any crazy shapes on the dancefloor or lining up the shots by the bar, whereas the brunette had all the moves and looked like she was having a great time. "Dibs on the one in the middle" I said to Martin. Being the exemplary wingman that he is (and I cannot value that enough, really!), he stepped aside. I knew she had given me the look at least once or twice. Why didn't I just go over to her and ask her for a dance?
I'll tell you why. Not enough alcohol. See, I've always been a massive worrier. I worry about the smallest little things, even things I can't do anything about. I can't even watch Sean's space programs, the enormity of the universe creeps me out. I'm not a quivering wreck by any means, but without liquid courage I find it very difficult approaching good-looking girls and speaking to them. What makes me any different to all the other guys? What if she turns me down right there and then, in front of everyone? How embarrassing. The only time I ever make a move on a girl is if I am 100% certain I won't get rejected. Alcohol is a social lubricant; sometimes I wonder how different my love-life would be without it.
And then the strangest thing happened. Her friend came up to me and starting chatting with me, and then told me that her mate thought I was gorgeous. I didn't know whether to be flattered or embarrassed. So I went over and chatted, bought her a drink (note to self: vodka lemonade and lime) and had a dance. By the end of the night, I left one snog and one phone number better off.
I guess I'm a tad confused. Girls never make a move, do they? That's always been the guy's prerogative. It was odd, but ultimately refreshing. The guy makes the move, the guy asks the girl out, the guy pays for the first date, and the guy organises the date. It's unwritten law. That's alot of pressure you're putting us under!
She likes me. At least, she did last night. I asked her if she wanted to take my number, and maybe give me a call sometime and we'll go out for a drink or something (I find it's always best to give her your number and leave the ball in her court). Immediately, she rung me there and then so I had her number. Shifting responsibilities onto me? Checking I hadn't given her the wrong number? Or just being polite and keen?
It's almost 24 hours now, and I haven't text her. Bro Code stipulates a 96-hour wait, but I'm not sure I can hold out that long. How many times in the average lifetime do you think you hook-up with a girl and get excited about her, only to find you have absolutely nothing in common and no spark? Considering I've only ever had 2 meaningful relationships (albeit one mammoth one) I'd say my ratio isn't too great. Why would this girl be any different?
Never let the fear of striking out stop you from playing the game. That's what Hilary Duff taught me in 'Cinderella Story'. Guess if you didn't get your hopes up about anyone, you'll never find the one. It's a nice feeling to know that despite the fact you've had an ex-fiancé tear out your heart and run over it with a metaphorical truck, there's still fire in there. There's life in this old dog yet. And there's probably some Black Sambuca in there aswell.
Diva Fever were predictably great for all the wrong reasons, and the photos are fantastic. They seemed like nice guys, but no they were no Aiden Grimshaw.
It was a great night out, and the hangover was better than recent weeks. In bed at around 04:30am, and then up at 08:30am for the gym. Absolute trooper. Alka-Seltzer is the greatest thing in the world.
Luke
