First Day at Ascot

Today was the first day of Ascot!  I took the day off of work, and took the train up with my friend Sophie in our fancy hats.  Given that I used to see Sophie every week to gossip over our squash games, it had been far too long since I'd gotten a chance to see her and catch up.  Turned out I was quite behind on the gossip, as apparently she had been dating a new 27-year old, but then had also been out with a 41-year old recently.  Amazing how I'd missed some entire relationships there!

At our pre-race picnic in the Car Park

At Ascot, Sophie dropped me off at a picnic in the Owners and Trainers Car Park with some folks from the Lansdowne, and after enough telephone coordinating, was able to help the Young Dutchman, Kellogg Boy and the Canadian Balliol Guy to find us.  Everyone came armed with loads of champagne, which was the essential element of this picnic, right where everybody parks their cars.  Apparently it's really the done thing, and people have to inherit their places in Car Park 1, as that's the most exclusive one.  Smoked salmon sandwiches, cucumber sandwiches, egg salad sandwiches, all with the crusts cut off, of course.  It was quite a windy day, and the girls were having some difficulty with their hats blowing off, and our canopy even blew away at one point, so the boys had to go chasing after it!

At 2 PM, we hurried off to see the Queen arrive, where we got great spots to see her in the Parade Ring. I was shocked how close we were.  (And loved that she and I were wearing the same colour hat that day!)

The Queen, wearing the same colour hat as I was

Then we went to watch some of the races from the grandstands, where we could easily get seats (the benefits of being in the Royal Enclosure section, as opposed to the packed crowds in the regular Grandstand), then out to the trackside, where we could get right up to the rail (again, perks of the Royal Enclosure badges), then down to the actual Royal Enclosure.  So much fun there, as they had giant screens to watch the races, champagne bars, and just lots of opportunities to people-watch, with all of the men in their top hats and the girls in their big fancy hats.  It seemed like everyone we knew was there, and we spent the entire day running into people and chatting to everyone.

Watching the races trackside

It was much fun there, although I got distracted for a bit by trying to connect with the Tall South African.  Reception there wasn't good, and so we had quite a few missed calls back-and-forth before I was able to get him on the line.  We were talking about potentially getting together in the evening, and plus, I just like talking to him. Which was good, as I was still smiling from that when I was thrown by what happened next:  I spotted an old fling from Cambridge who I had not seen in eight years.

The back story is that I met this guy at a dinner, where he had come back as an older alum.  At that point in time, he was just some guy barely out of university, working for his dad's business, and just basically figuring out what he wanted to do with his life (as we all do in our early 20's).  We hooked up and carried on a pretty passionate affair for a while, that sort of fizzled out when I graduated and he wasn't coming back to Cambridge as much anymore.  Last time I had seen him was "the morning after" the last time.

With my favourite Dutchman

In the time since however, the guy has become a multi-millionaire, and the ultimate playboy bachelor.  Famous for throwing huge parties with his oodles of money, the kind of guy who buys a new Maserati every every for fun.  I occasionally see articles about him in the Wall Street Journal, which is how I know what he's up to somewhat.  (Yeah, this guy has REALLY made it).  And there he was, standing just a few feet away, talking to the Young Dutchman.

I finally realised that if I was going to see The Millionaire Bachelor, it was now or never.  So I walked over, and plastered a huge smile on my face as I said, "Well, it's been a while!"  We kissed on each check, and he asked me how I was.  I did the quick fill-in of life for the past eight years, and pretty quickly diverged from talking directly to him to contributing to the larger group conversation and trying to be quick-witted and funny.  I just wasn't quite sure of what to say. Still, as I nattered on, I realised that he was feeling insecure too, which is perhaps the last reaction I ever could have expected.  Here was a guy who had pretty much conquered the entire business world, and yet still seemed as awkward around me as all of the shy nerdy boys from Cambridge.

What did I think of our reunion?  After eight years, I just have to say that he looked ravaged.  He was making some jokes about his drug use, and how he'd been on a two-month hiatus, but if this is what he looked like after two months of clean living, I'd hate to see how he looked after being into his drugs for a while.  And I wondered, "If I met him today, would I want to sleep with him as desperately as I did then?"  Probably not.  His teeth were just a bit too white (obviously bleached, goodness knows why he'd needed to), his skin too aged from sun and smoking, and the lines showing a bit too much.

Although goodness, there is nothing quite like running into an old lover to make one feel incredibly insecure.  I've certainly put on a few pounds since I was 24, and haven't been feeling tremendously attractive since I did in my leg and needed surgery.  So in flats (no heels to make my legs look good), and with a dress that was irritatingly low-cut (I wish I'd noticed it more before going out!), and still recovering from the previous night's drinking, I was forced to face the music.  The Young Dutchman later said that he found watching our reunion hilarious, as apparently The Millionaire Bachelor had told him about our history, and so he understood the significance of this encounter.  You know how it is...even if you have no further interest in someone, you sort of want them to still want you on some level, you know?  I only hope he wasn't too disappointed in how I've changed since my Cambridge days.

We hung out there until about 6:30 PM, when everything started to shut down, and so we went back to the Car Park, where we had a ton of champagne leftover.  (Sophie made me absolutely gasp at one point when this awkward boy we know asked where we were going, and Sophie just said, "I haven't invited you anywhere".  I would have been mortified if somebody had made that cutting remark to me, but the boy must be really clueless, as he just tagged along after us anyway!)

Back at the Car Park picnic, we ended up having fun games firing off champagne corks at the other picnics nearby, and playing fun games where the boys were running around catching the champagne corks in their top hats.  Maybe you had to be there, but it was absolutely hysterical.

At the post-race Car Park picnic

The Young Dutchman and Canadian Balliol Guy went back to Oxford, and I took the train back to London with Kellogg Boy, where we had an interesting conversation the whole way.  At one point touching on the Young Dutchman's narcissism, which I hadn't really thought about before.  As I was texting back and forth with the Tall South African the entire time, I told Kellogg Boy a bit about him, and how I try not to talk to the Young Dutchman much about him. Sadly, the Tall South African had to cancel on me for the evening, but it was because another friend of his was having a rough time, and he wanted to go cheer the guy up).

As I talked to Kellogg Boy, I realised that my failed connection with the Tall South African really illustrated something, because he was feeling so badly about it, as he really wanted to see me.  And that's the fundamental difference between the Young Dutchman and the Tall South African:  The Young Dutchman is so self-involved, always loving being the centre of attention, telling the funny stories and amusing everyone.  The Tall South African, on the other hand, is almost the complete opposite, to the point where I have to remind him to think of himself every now and then, he's always putting himself out for other people.  How strange, as when I first met the Tall South African, I thought they were so similar.

I got home, changed, went out to the RAC to see who was there (there had been an event on that night), and encountered Magnetic Man, JP, and one of the other members of the Oxford Mafia.  Hadn't seen those guys in quite a while.  

I had a good time chatting with them for a bit in the RAC Long Bar, where they mostly complained about the evening's event, which had apparently been a huge letdown.  So we collected a few other Oxford and Cambridge folks, and actually ended up back at the club, dashing there before it closed at midnight.  I was too tired and had already had too much champagne though, so after only drinking water all evening, bid them all a goodnight and left them to their drinks.  Caught the absolute LAST Tube home by mere seconds, limping on my bad knee, which is cutting it a bit fine!  But made it home in the nick of time, exhausted and excited to do it all over again tomorrow!