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How did it come to this?
How did it come to this?
Ow. I wake up lying on the floor underneath my computer. Its Friday morning, 7:52. There are two lumps of unidentified fired food next to me, presumably leftovers of a drunken takeaway. It goes without saying that I have a kicking headache. I have to be at work in a little over an hour. This is bad, very bad. A sickie is called for, only it started out as drinks with people from work. I remember leaving a bar at 11 o'clock and saying to one of the partners "I am going on clubbing with the swedish girls". That sort of behaviour removes your rights to throw a sickie.
I pull myself off the floor, and stare at the computer screen. I have vague memories of signing up to this website at 3 in the morning. A few clicks confirms this is true. That has cost a bit, oh well, easy come, easy go. I have moe importatnt concerns on my mind. Like negoitating a 40 minute tube ride to work without throwing up and surviving a day at work unable to move.
But how did I get myself in this mess? Time travel back to Thursday evening. A colleague is leaving work, we are having his leaving drinks in a bar in the city. Its dull, a trendy bar packed full of office works on a Thursday night. The plan is sip a few drinks and get the hell out. I am on schedule when I bump into a friend of mine, who is surrounded by a group of 7 (count 'em 7) attractive women.
Now at this point I feel I should point out to any readers that this is not going to turn into a nine way orgy. Mores the pity. But if thats what you are looking for you have come to the wrong place.
Anyway, things move on the way nights do. Drinks are drunk, I talk to people from work who bore me. Try and get some connection with some of the girls. My friend, Nick, tells me that one of them is Swedish and desperate to sleep with a lawyer (I am a lawyer by the way). He has a girl friend so he is prepared to let me be the lucky man. He goes up to her and introduces me as his friend who is "really successful and a nice guy as well". With an intro like that things can't help but go well. Me and Miss Swedish Lawyer Lover do not hit it off. I end up talking to her mate, also swedish who is a much more interesting propoersition, with a bit of a twinkle in her eye. Things are going well, a group of us end up in a club - departing with the infamous "I am going on with the Swedish girls line".
We end up in a trendy club. As well as being "incredibly successful and a nice guy as well" and a frustrated creative writer I am also an enthusiastic drunk dancer. I manage to get the Swedish girl on the floor. This is going great. I am in here, I swear. She is conventionally good looking, but even better has a lovely filthy look about her, that makes me think she would be great in bed, and a super sexy accent.
But then she is gone. Her mate, the original Swede is in a stroppy mood and wants to go home. My girl leaves with her. I forget to take her number. ARGHGHGHHGH! I drown my sorrows and look round for talent, but there are very few single girls left. The only one I can find is wearing furry moon boots (seriously!) and is rather unattractive. Great.
I say some drunken fairwells to my friends and go for a taxi. There are none around. I am offerred a minicab. Now Ken Livingstone (mayor of london) will try and shut me down for saying htis, but I have never had problems in a mini cab, and I am drunk enough to not care about the risk.
As a brief aside, I have realised that I sound like an alcoholic. But hold that advice about joining the AA, this is an exceptional evening.
Back to the story. When I am drunk i usually talk to cab drivers about football. Women may disagree but football is one of the great social forces in the world. Two complete strangers from totally different back grounds can find common ground in football.
My driver is an arsenal fan. I tell him the team I support (its my hometown team, from the distant reaches of the lower leagues) Driver says he doesnt believe it - his cousin plays for them. It turns out his cousin is a minor cult hero for us. To protect the innocent I will call him Johnny Player - admittedly this may be an unneccessary step, I doubt my readership will be of Harry Potter dimensions).
I tell Johnny Player's cousin about the Swedish girls. He laughs. And offers to find me a prostitute. Maybe this is why Ken Livingstone is trying to crack down on unlicensed cabs. I decline his offer - I have not gone that far, and besides I am so drunk I can barely sit up straight, let alone pleasure a woman. Still this is a highlight of my evening. I have been offered a prostitute by the cousin of an obscure lower league footballer. Its hardly David Beckham territory, but I feel I have hit the big time.
I don't know about you, but I get progressively drunker after my last drink as the alcholo floods my system, and by the time I arrive home, I am in a terrible condition. I pay off Johnny Player's cousin, buy a bad takeaway, and stagger to my flat. Being drunk and sexually frustrated over my swedish girl, I immediately try and find some internet porn..and end up on AdultFriendFinder. May I now take this oppurtunity to apologise to any girl I sent a message to on Thursday night - I was not at my most elloquent to saay the least.
So thats how I woke up on the floor as a member of this site....more soon....if anyone cares....!