Day minus-6

So, the big night out...
After a lovely day walking around burough market sampling the delights (the secret is not to eat meals on days you go to Burough market. There is no need) we headed home for dinner and champagne. I got the distinct impression that my visiting friend and I were the only ones really up for a proper night out - my flatmate was hung over (but putting on a brave face) and others were just not as 'chipper' as usual. It didn't matter, she and I would more than make up for the lacking in others... "Canadian girls gone wild" as she put it so eloquently ;-)
We headed to The Lamb and Flag in Covent Market, met up with everyone, had a few drinks and then headed to the club. Guanabara was the destination, and we purposely got there early to avoid the queue.
No such luck.
After doing my usual thing of trying to win over the doorman with my charm and wit, I retreated back to where everyone else in our party was waiting patiently. It was of course at this point that all the champagne, redbull-vodka and G&Ts from earlier hit my bladder, and I had to scamper out of the line to find an accomodating pub. During this adventure I got the fantastic idea of buying drinks to have in line! So Flatmate and Visiting Friend and I took orders and pranced in to an off-license. As we discreetly (or not so discreetly) drank our coronas in line, I took a shine to the sweater on the guy in front of me. He was an unknown part of our party (in that he had been invited by someone else but wasn't known by me). His sweater was the softest thing EVER. I don't know if it was angora, or cashmere, or what, but it was divine. I proceeded to stroke and pet him like some sort of labrador, then called the Visiting Friend over to experience it. He was very tolerant and accomodating. But then, he had two pretty girls stroking his body, so I guess he would be. Later in the night his sweater came off and he was presented to me to stroke again. I took one feel of his cotton t-shirt and dismissed him. It just wasn't the same.
In the meantime Visiting Friend and I were running rampent in the bar. We got on the tequila (they were serving it in cups. Cups!) and on the dancefloor. The band was amazing. 12-15 piece Brazilian samba band, who never stopped. At one point a girl from the dancefloor jumped up on stage and put on a show of a lifetime. Every bit of her was shaking and jiggling to beat of the music. She was too sexy for words. When she got off the stage, Visiting Friend and I praised her and clasped hands with her, to show her how much we appreciated her talent! She was fabulous.
It was interesting in the bar because the music was hip and cool, and you'd expect the clientele to be of a certain sort. But it was a meat market! I had expected more women than men, because don't women enjoy samba and such so much more? But from the moment we walked in the guys were on us like white on rice. For the purposes of taking my mind off the dark countdown, it was perfect. Unfortunately Visiting Friend and I agreed the next day that there was just too much choice. Everytime one boy was talking to me, I would catch sight of another one, and move on. I just wasn't willing to commit any decent amount of time to one particular boy.
Near the end of the night we did stumble across a great find. We were at the bar, probably ordering more tequilas, and we noticed a most dapper man beside us. His hair was amazing - a cross between afro and short dreads - and he was wearing a fantastic grey suit and black scarf. He was hands-down the best dressed gent in the place. So of course Visiting Friend and I were all over his great suit like a cheap suit - praising him and stroking and patting. We adopted him as our pet and he was most content. He took my number with a promise that we would all meet up again in the week. In the morning light neither Visiting Friend nor I can remember if he was really nice and fun, or just well-dressed... But we shall find out!
The only truly inappropriate behaviour occured as we were trying to find a cab outside the place. Mr.C had joined in on the celebrations in his new capacity as 'friend', and of course I - in my drunken state - thought it would be a good idea to try to regress. He told me gently, but firmly, that he was 'not going to kiss' me. So I trotted off down the street to collect Visiting Friend and didn't look back. I did feel bad about it later, as it's not fun having to reject someone you seriously thought was down with the 'friend' vibe (Which I was before the 5th tequila and the end of the night). I spoke to him later and sorted it out, but also realised that hanging out with him was a tricky business... I couldn't trust myself not to behave when in a proper 'going out' setting, and rejection gets old fast, so it would probably be for the best if I didn't continue seeing him. He wasn't happy with this solution, but a gal's got to do what's best for her, so that's that.

Besides that minor blip, the night was excellent. Visiting Friend had a great time, and particularly loved when people asked 'so how long have you been in England?' and she could answer 'one day'. She found that very amusing :-) She also got her ride in a black cab, but by then we were both too drunk to remember it. Ah well, they'll be other nights!

Poor thing now has the long-haul cold, so we're taking it easy today.

MissA.x