Drinking, Dancing and a Damsel in Distress

I woke up this morning (insert blues riff here) expecting to be brought to my knees by a hangover, but praise be to the gods of booze I woke up without one. This was surprising because I’ve got older they’ve just kept getting worse and worse, and also this was the first time I’d gotten drunk in six months.

I’d fully intended to go out on my staff night out and stick to my straight edge guns, but this quickly went out of the window and I ended up drinking quite a bit.

Staff night’s out in my work are a mixed bag, in the previous three Christmases one was great, one was lame and one was cancelled because of snow. This year’s seemed to be fizzling out with quite a few of my colleagues pulling out late and I kind of suspected that I’d be tucked up in bed early.

Also, I was going to be the only male member of staff going out which might fill some with images of strutting around, surrounded by women like a pimp:

All aboard the hooooo train!
All aboard the hooooo train!

But I’m more like Bosley, a bumbling friend figure than some kind of superfly ladies man.


Although, in a way this was kind of good. While I like hanging out with my boys, I find quite easy to hang out with girls because with guys you don’t know that well there’s the risk of one of them being a bit of an alpha male wanker or something, whereas with women you can just have a chat and a laugh without that coming into it. And it turned out that this was the case and there was a cool, fun vibe to the evening.

I got ready and found myself doing something I always do- posing in front of the mirror. I’m very self consciousness but when alone I start styling and profiling in the mirror in a kind of ironic way, including shooting “Blue Steel” looks at myself. I’d combed my hair and put on my tidy shirt and I looked fairly good, or at least as good as I could without some kind of surgery.

The night went really well and I got a pretty good buzz on but showed some sense and maturity by pacing myself and breaking up the night with some non-alcoholic drinks, although I did rather overdue the Jagerbombs, drinking at least 10. Urgh.

I danced like a muppet, had a laugh and got to know one of my coworkers better, as I’ve barely spoken to her before, but she turned out to be pretty cool. The atmosphere was pretty chilled and I spent most of the night grinning like an idiot. Here are a few of the major things I remember:

  • Retros is a dive. It was half empty when we went in and didn’t fill up that much, the smell from the ladies’ wafted out across the whole club and inexplicably they were showing the Garfield movie on the TV screens.
  • Saw a dude in Retros wearing a Michael Jackson sparkly glove. He wasn’t in costume in any other aspect apart from that one glove.
  • The Reflex DJ seems to have forgotten it’s an 80s theme bar as he played 70s and 90s too, although I didn’t really mind and busted some moves to the Grease megamix.
  • Got a vodka bought by me from this cool student lad because I could name the drummer from KISS (Peter Criss)
  • Got this girl who came up and chatted to me. We started dancing and I got paid two compliments. She said I was apparently a good dancer (evidence that she was drunk) and that I smelt nice, which was true as the toilet guy had blasted me with that perfume that comes in the intensely gay sailor bottle.
  • Got flashed, which was awkward as the girl’s sister was right there so I averted my eyes. Which was quite tough to do.

Everyone else headed home but I decided to stay out, but only managed about 15 minutes before I got bored and decided to head home.

The taxi queue put me off so I decided I’d walk up to the station and grab one there. As I walked up High Street I saw this woman walking along very unsteadily and was going to walk right past her when she stumbled and almost went head first into Happy Home Furniture. I asked her if she was okay and she was clearly worse for wear and visibly upset, so I called her a taxi and then waited with her. I popped her in the cab and walked home, content that I’d shown maturity and good sense on a night out, and that I’d done a good deed.

And karma smiled on me because I got home and found out I’d won £3 on the lottery. Do good things and good things happen, folks.

Any thoughts? You know what to do. BETEO.

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