After the Head of Inter-Club invited me out for drinks this evening, I found myself headed to 5 Cavendish Square, apparently one more private member's club that all of my friends seem to have endless entrees to.
I ran into a tall Scottish chap I know from Clubland on the stairs inside the club, and we made our way upstairs to this cozy little bar, where the Head of Inter-Club was sitting in a big leather chair in the corner chatting to an incredibly handsome chap with slightly long blonde hair, and just the dashing look about him that upper-class British boys always seem to have.
So of course I was quite delighted when, to fit us all in around the tiny cocktail table, he decided to sit with me in the window-seat bench, where we got to talking. Turns out he loved golf, worked in publishing, and so of course was a prolific reader. Oh God, cute AND smart? This was too good to be true.
We talked about how he'd gone to university in Edinburgh, then had lived in Cambridge for a while to work, while becoming involved in the college scene through a friend at Christ's. Mentioned going back there for a friend's upcoming 30th, which made me wonder if he was perhaps even the right age for me (for once!)
I tried to refuse a drink at first (as I knew the Head of Inter-Club would buy for me, and I already owe him so many drinks), but eventually you could tell he just wanted me to drink with everybody else, so I caved and asked for a white wine. How sweet then that the dashing British boy changed his order to a white wine as well so he could drink with me.
Soon enough we had to finish up our paid-for drinks, as it was time for us all to move on to the club opening party, which was the reason for this evening, so we could all go and have free drinks. I followed the crowd out the door, falling in step with the dashing British boy on the inside of the kerb, joking about how our ideal lives required so much more money than we had and admiring dessert cafes as we walked by.
We arrived at the nightclub, which was absolutely a bog-standard night-club, with benches around the edges, tables, and low ceilings. I never understand how places that are just the same as anywhere else manage to get away with charging such ridiculously high prices for alcohol. I guess it shows I've really left my 20's behind, eh?
This evening however, the booze was free, so we grabbed glasses of prosecco, and made our way over to where we had staked out our "spot". I of course was only too happy to keep chatting to this dashing British boy, who encouraged me to keep reading Jonathan Franzen's "The Corrections", even if I hated the characters.
Then, as I was standing there just happily nattering away, I was absolutely gob-smacked when Roofie's brother showed up and wrapped me up into a hug. What on earth was he doing here?? So now I was in the tricky position of wanting to keep talking to the dashing British boy, while yet saying hello to Roofie's brother, one of my favourite people ever. (And of course, a man who is too handsome to be believed sometimes, he's so ridiculously good-looking). So chatted to him for a bit, and was almost grateful when he wandered off to go get his drink, as it allowed me to return to conversation with the dashing British boy without that conflict of interest.
After a bit, Roofie himself turned up, along with a few people from the hash. It was so weird, being in this trendy night-club, with my two worlds colliding. Roofie made me down a drink, but luckily I was able to fob him off before the two worlds really did collide and I had to introduce anybody to anybody else.
Sometime around 10:15, the free booze ran out, and so the Head of Inter-Club asked me and the dashing British boy if we'd like to head somewhere else for a night-cap. I thought we would just walk to somewhere around the corner, but then we ended up catching a cab and going to Flordita, a place that will always be stuck in my mind as the venue for a crazy Accenture party that saw me going home with a really expensive bottle of champagne that I have yet to drink.
Once there, I had a mojito and two Long Island Iced teas, and needless to say, I start to get fuzzy on the details of everything at this point. We were reviewing some logos that the Head of Inter-Club had on his phone for the new company that he's trying to get up and running, and just chatting about all sorts of random stuff. As I recall the Head of Inter-Club was laughing at me and the dashing British boy, as it was so obvious we were desperately into each other.
Yet at this point, our heads were seriously so fuzzy that we needed to do something to sop up the alcohol, so then we found ourselves in a McDonald's. In fact, the first McDonald's I ever ate at on my first ever trip to London. Ah, nostalgia!!
So got a burger and joined the Head of Inter-Club and the dashing British boy on stools, where we ate our food and the Head of Inter-Club continued to tease the two of us about our obvious attraction to each other. But isn't it great, where you have those magical nights where you just "get" somebody and everything seems to click?
Finally, it was time to head home, and since the dashing British boy lives on the opposite side of Holland Park from me, of course it seemed logical that we would share a cab. So the Head of Inter-Club flagged down a cab for us, the dashing British boy went to get cash (we'd spent all of our money at Floridita, I think!), and I gave the cab driver directions piled in. The Head of Inter-Club waved the two of us off with a chuckle, and away we went.
We mostly just continued to chat all the way home, where I mostly remember just pestering him about how he was going to call me tomorrow. When we finally got to his place, of course instead of just kissing him on each cheek, I properly kissed him, and so instead of leaving the cab he passionately kissed me back. It was funny as he was sort of struggling to leave the cab, but kept returning for more kisses.
Finally, he gave me £30 to make sure I had enough money to get the rest of the way back to mine, and told me he'd call me. "Do you have my number?" I pestered him, because in all honesty I couldn't remember giving it to him. But he assured me he did, and with one last kiss stumbled out of the cab.
The cab then dropped me at mine, charging £25 for the ride, which meant since the dashing British boy had given me £30, I ended up £5 ahead! A good night of boys looking after me!
So I stumbled inside, and then as is of course my first instinct, I checked my computer and e-mailed Doro with excitement about the cute boy I'd just met. And to my surprise, there was a message from Dr. T, who I had not heard a peep from since that diastrous night last summer. Seriously six months without a word, and all of a sudden he's saying hi and suggesting we go out for drinks.
It did my head in. So perhaps it was time for me to turn in. But it was quite a night of all the lovely boys I know!
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