Wolfson Ball

This evening the Young Dutchman had invited me up to Wolfson for a ball. Admittedly I was somewhat bummed to have to travel all of the way up to Oxford for a party, and to miss out on another party some friends of mine were throwing, but I hadn't seen the Young Dutchman in well over a month, so I was keen to go up and see him.

The bus took ages to arrive, so I barely made it to Wolfson before 7 PM when the ball was due to start. The Young Dutchman wasn't there to greet me either, and so I became a bit annoyed running around, trying to figure out where to put my coat and find where to go. When he finally showed up however, with a few friends in tow, I just had to smile as he greeted me with a hug and a kiss. I have missed that boy...

He'd brought along three friends as guests, one of whom was a guy I know from London (who is tragically insecure, but who therefore irritates me with his insecurities), and two from other colleges at Oxford. One was from Balliol, so I warmed up to him immediately, and another from Kellogg.

We got champagne at the reception, and very quickly were called down into dinner. Found our places, where delightfully I found myself across from the Young Dutchman, with a random chap on my left and the boy from Kellogg on my right.

At the start of the meal, the students all began chatting about their upcoming statistics exam on Monday, and so I turned my attention to the random chap on my left. He turned out to be from Panama and doing a law degree, so I was thankfully able to put my limited knowledge of Panama to use. After a while however, I did get a big bored, and so was grateful when the insecure guy who had come up from London started chatting across the table with this guy, so I could turn my conversational attention to the Young Dutchman and his friends from Balliol and Kellogg.

I realised when chatting to the guy from Kellogg that I'd heard his name before, as he was a good friend of the Young Dutchman's. And as we chatted, I realised why, as we instantly got along. He was apparently living between three cities, as he had a flat in London (where I think his girlfriend is?), Oxford obviously, and somewhere in the countryside. Funny, smart guy, whose company I enjoyed greatly.

After dinner, we got some cocktails from the cocktail bar, checked out the coffee bar (endless coffee and doughnuts!), and then retired downstairs to the casino, where they had given us fake money to gamble with. I played a few rounds of blackjack, and although I was able to steadily increase my winnings (blackjack is the only game worth playing, since at least your odds are pretty much 50-50), I noticed that I never won big like the people who were willing to bet big. So I played for a while, but then realised I wasn't getting anywhere with my incremental increases in wins. I guess it really shows why I just don't have the temperament to be a gambler, because I always felt my losses keenly, while my wins just seemed like recovery to a safer position. And this was only fake money!

I got bored with the game after a while, not just because I hated losing money (even the fake kind), but also with how the insecure guy from London kept slowing up the game. I mean, even the slowest person could figure out after only a round or two to tap the table if you wanted to be hit with another card, and to place your next bet on the table as soon as the previous round had been cleared. Except every time we got to this guy, we had to ask him, "Are you placing a bet this round? Do you want another card?" and he would always act surprised as though this was coming up again, and dither for ages while he made his choice. Argh. Slow people irritate me.

We took a few photos at the photo booth (there was this guy there who was easily over seven feet tall, and it was funny to see him try to squeeze down into photos with people), and then headed outside to play laser tag in a giant inflatable laser tag game. It was fun, although you constantly had to crouch as you ran through the dark maze of the game, and so when after five minutes most of us decided to exit the game, I was only too eager to go as well. But only in Oxford can you get a bunch of people dressed in black-tie running around playing laser tag...

After we went back inside, I lost the Young Dutchman for a bit, but ended up hanging for a while with the guy from Kellogg. We got some late-night food (burgers and pizza, I love how balls just have everything you could ever want, always), and retired to the cellar bar, where we just chilled chatting with a few other people for a while. We also made a stop at the cocktail bar where the professional cocktail-makers were messing around, and so one of the guys decided to make me something that wasn't one of the standard cocktails. I tried it a few times and gave some feedback, until he'd mixed me up something entirely new and different that had just enough kick to make me love it. I love how if you're looking cute, you can just smile at a guy and he'll make you your own cocktail, just to impress you.

Then, after a few more drinks and some more gambling, we decided to hit the dance floor, where we ran into the Young Dutchman cutting a rug. (Of course that's where he would be, I should have thought of that sooner). Admittedly, I will confess to having given the Young Dutchman some space, as there was a very glamorous-looking girl who also seemed quite nice and the popular girl that everyone wanted to talk to, that he was lavishing quite a bit of attention on. I'm his dearest friend, the girl he will fetch drinks for and feed from his own plate, which I think could give other girls the wrong impression. Hence, always good to let him do his own thing occasionally.

I spent a while chatting outside on some balcony (thankfully with a heater!) with the Balliol and the Kellogg boy, having one of those existential conversations that really only happens in a place like Oxford. In fact, all evening I was reminded of how much I love that place, for while sometimes the people miss the more minor social rules of etiquette (the Kellogg boy laughingly pointed out to me at one point that he wasn't wearing black tie, just a black suit with a black bow tie), the conversations are always so much more interesting and intellectual.

Finally we returned downstairs for a last bit of dancing, where since it was now 2 AM and noise regulations were in place, it had all turned into a silent disco. They handed earphones to everyone at the door, and so while everyone was dancing and singing along to the same songs, it was only what we heard in our own earphones. It was totally surreal to take them off and listen to everyone shuffling and singing along, in total silence. Hilarious! Even weirder when I went to the ladies room, and all of the girls were still singing along to the songs in the toilet, that only they could hear.

At about 2:45 AM, the Balliol and the Kellogg boys were getting a cab that was going to go near the bus station, so I jumped in for a ride with them. We dropped off the Balliol guy first, then me at the bus station. The Kellogg boy refused to take any money from me, and said he would see me at the Christmas Ball. Fantastic! I will look forward to seeing him again, just because he was good fun to hang out with.

I got on the bus at 3 AM, in perfect time for it's scheduled 3:10 PM departure. I was surprised then however, when as I was just tapping on my iPhone waiting for the bus to leave, this guy came up to me, told me I looked beautiful, asked if he could sit with me, and if he could take me out. Seriously dude? It's 3 AM! So I kept politely refusing, saying I was just tired and was going to conk out, and while it was nice that he thought I was beautiful, I just wanted to be left alone. He was remarkably persistent, although finally seemed to get the hint. And I know people are always amazed that I get asked out by guys just on the street like that, but what they never seem to realise is that often the guys who are really persistent like that are not cute enough to bother with. Seriously, this guy had no chance, which made me wonder why he even asked...

I did indeed conk out for the ride, and before I knew it, we were back in London at 4:30 AM. Got home to my flat, undid a million pins from my hair, texted the Young Dutchman to let him know I was home safely (and he texted back, the silly boy!), and by 5 AM was safely in bed...