This evening I had two parties to go to, and I couldn't decide which one to attend. So, knowing full well it was a disaster waiting to happen, I decided to try to go to both. {Sigh!} I just never learn...
Since Roofie's party started first, I decided to go to that one first. In retrospect, that was the exact wrong move, as I should have gone to the sophisticated cocktail party first, and then the raging kegger of a Halloween party second. Instead, I did it in reverse, exactly as I shouldn't have. Lesson learned for next time, I guess...
As I exited the tube for the first party, I ran into some fellow hash types, and so waited for them to buy beer at the local off-licence before going in to the party. When we arrived up the elevator, we were surprised by the host jumping out to scare us, and then insisting that we had to play "Twister" before being admitted into the flat. Talk about a bad day to have chosen to wear a skirt...
Luckily we only had to play two spins (although I did end up with another chap lying on top of me), yet with the added requirement that we had to drink inbetween each spin, in our weirdly contorted positions.
Then, after we'd made it through the Twister, we had to be handcuffed to a chair, and had someone pour a shot down our throat. Mindful of the second party I had to go to later, I almost freaked out and told the guy pouring the shot down my throat that I would kill him if he got any on my dress. At least that seemed to put some fear into him, and he didn't spill a single drop.
Finally at this point I was able to enter the party, where I was surprised to see a remarkably clean and spacious living room. Then I learned the boys had only been in residence for two weeks, which perhaps explains why it was still so clean.
I greeted Roofie's brother, who seemed delighted to see me, and then I learned that he'd actually had surgery on his ACL, and this was why I hadn't seen him at the hash lately. Poor guy was limping all over the place and needng to sit down and rest frequently. He seemed so surprised that I hadn't known however, making me feel once more a bit out-of-it that I hadn't kept up.
The two of us played a game of two-cup beer pong (Beruit, really, not the genuine kind played at Dartmouth), because they had a cheesy manufactured pong table set up. Admittedly we were both terrible at it, and eventually had to put in place back-stops with our hands so that we could actually manage to get the ping-pong ball into the cups. Ah, so lame!
As more people arrived, I found myself chatting with Sally E, the wife of one of the more keen hashers. She's a good sport who frequently comes along with him, and I've always found her to be a charming conversational companion, as she's just so sweet and nice. I was surprised to learn that she was a former member of the Lansdowne, and we talked a bit about how much I enjoyed life in Clubland. Really should get her along to something, as she seems like the type who would enjoy it.
I had thought to slip out to attend the second party after an hour and a half, but I hadn't counted on the steady stream of people continuing to arrive, and the insistance of Roofie to continue to make people play twister and do shots whilst handcuffed to a chair. Hence, no real chance to make a quiet exit, as the way out was blocked. I began to despair that I would ever make it to the second party.
Almost giving up, I went out to join the crowds by the Twister game in the hallway, and just spent some time talking to Roofie's brother. Let's face it, he was really the only person I felt like talking to, as he sometimes seems like the only other normal person in an insane asylum.
Yet, just about when I was going to give up on making it to the other party, one other hasher, U-Turn, who is actually Roofie's boss, decided he was heading out. So I decided to sneak out with him, and make a run for the second party (never mind that I wouldn't make it to the second party now until 11:30 PM). Made my escape with U-Turn, and dashed on the Tube to the next party!
When I arrived at 11:30 PM, I began to have my doubts about whether I should even bother arriving so late, but since I was there, I figured I might as well forge on ahead. I actually met another couple just leaving as I arrived, and so was able to ask them if the party was still going. They assured me that there were still about 15 people left, so I rang the buzzer, and immediately started blathering apologies when the hostess came down to let me in.
Upon arrival, I found that my friend Sara had already gone home, and Sibe, this guy I'd known from my Magdalene days (and had a brief, abortive romantic fling with) was just leaving. I was actually rather grateful for that, as every time I see him, I can't help but think, "What on earth was I thinking????" Seriously, mild repulsion. (I mean, he's a nice enough guy, but so awkward and geeky and just....no. Seriously, no idea how I'd ever thought it would be a good idea to kiss him).
So I stayed chatting with random people there, although mostly spending time enjoying the manic company of my friend Helen, who is slightly insane but utterly charming. After getting her PhD in physics she's now a teacher at Westminster School, and can always be counted on at parties to ask ridiculously inappropriate questions.
And as I stood there, I realised my mistake, as this obviously would have been the better party to come to first, where one could make an early departure before the polite conversation petered out. Then I could go to the raging house-party, where people had still been arriving as I left at 11 PM. Ah well, now I know for next time!
After a while, we realised that it was getting late, and so Helen suggested that we take the night bus home. The night bus? Goodness, I hadn't done that in ages! So, excited to have a companion for a late-night trip home, I walked with her to the bus stop.
As made our journey home, Helen revealed that she was "living with someone, but wanting to live with someone else. Someone more intelligent." And this is the frustrating thing I realised about both parties... Although there were plenty of young, single men in attendance at both, few really turned my head. Seriously, I think I would have stayed at Roofie's party and skipped the second if there had been a charming cute boy to talk to, but with none on offer, I went to the second, which was mostly a collection of Russian lab geeks.
Which made me realise that what's truly most frustrating about the silly boy, is that he's the first boy I've been truly interested in for a very long time, so it's that much more dissapointing that it didn't work out. And maybe to those who read my rambling musings, you're thinking, "But you're ALWAYS talking about some boy or other that you have a crush on!" I hope that's true, because sometimes you hit nights like this one, where among all of the options, you didn't see anything to your liking. And where going home alone really seems like the most preferrable option out there. Because really, there's always something wrong with all of them. Even Roofie's brother, delightful as he is, I can't quite imagine taking to the club. Or having an interesting discussion with him about world politics.
After we arrived in Trafalgar Square, Helen and I parted, and I found the N9 coming along straight away, so I decided instead of catching a cab, to ride the night bus all of the way home. (Took me until 3 AM to get home, but it sure was cheap!) And I watched some very cute drunk couples in the front of the bus snuggle up together, shifting slightly until they got comfortable, and just nuzzling with each other all of the way home. Ah, that's what we all really want, now isn't it? Somebody to snuggle with all of the way home...
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