I'd insisted that I needed to go out to the gym today, but as I didn't get there until much later than I should have, I was late getting back, and hence was running about 10 minutes late to the rugby.
I wasn't the only one however, as I ran into Sweetheart as I stepped off the train at the final station, making us both laugh as we realised we'd been on the same train for the entire journey. He wrapped an arm around me and held onto me the entire time as we walked through the station, which after last night was rather sweet.
We arrived at the pub, and one of the first people I saw was Matt, so I went and gave him a hug, and just ended up standing with him for nearly the entire game, trading off buying pints, as we always do. Not much time to talk and catch up though, as we spent much of our time yelling at the screen and at the game. Going into this game, the thought had been that if England were to win it, we would have won every game of the tournament, completing a "Grand Slam". Within minutes however, it was apparent that the ref was incredibly biased, constantly calling penalty after penalty on England, even when I could have staked my life on the fact that Wales was at fault. In the end, it was a tragic result, with England losing to Wales, 30-3.
At least we had cheap pints to console ourselves with, as two of the guys had purchased discount cards that we all collectively used throughout the afternoon. And plus, it was just good to see everyone and catch up with them.
I spent some time chatting with The Blonde, who ran into the brother of a guy she once lived with in the pub, but it took her ages to remember his name. At one point she found herself standing with me and a guy we all call "Angel", an absolute giant of a man, and talking about the guy she'd one lived with, saying, "The thing is, I can't remember if I ever actually slept with him. I mean, we definitely made out and things, but I can't quite remember if we ever actually had sex or not." She seemed quite genuine in her puzzlement, which then led Angel to simply say, "If you really can't remember, that means you have slept with too many people." I was glad he was the one to actually say it, but goodness knows I was thinking it... I'm always a bit alarmed by people who claim to have no idea how many people they've actually had sex with. Because at the end of the day, what does it really mean if you can't even remember?
I'd said to a friend of mine from Oxford who I'd been trying to catch up with for ages that she should meet me after the game at this pub, and I was thrilled when almost exactly at the time she said she would arrive, I spotted her from across the pub. I hadn't seen her in at least a year, so it was a real thrill to finally get to catch up with her again.
She got us some more cheap beers, and we stood around, chatting and catching up for a bit. Turns out that she'd been dating a Kiwi guy for the past three years, and they'd been living together and talking about having kids and everything, when two months ago he suddenly announced to her as she was making dinner that he was leaving her, that he had all of his bags packed and a cab was waiting for him outside.
You occasionally hear about these things happening, but you can't quite fathom what it must be like to be the person in that situation. My German Oxford friend said that she'd had absolutely no inkling that anything was amiss, that after three years she thought they had a really honest, open and communicative relationship. In fact, she said her only clue was that in retrospect, he'd really been tidying up for the month previously, as he cleared through and packed up all of his things in preparation for his big good-bye. And she said, "Here I thought he was being so nice and finally cleaning up for once, but in reality it was because he was starting to move out when I didn't even notice."
The strange thing is, that's now the third friend I know personally that's happened to, and so many more I've heard about through others. I wonder when I helped Joel move out, was this what it seemed like to his live-in girlfriend at the time? Did she have no idea that there was trouble, until the day she came home to find him with bags packed, ready to walk? Do these men have no concept of what it does to the women they leave behind?
In this case, he apparently flew back to New Zealand, and she hasn't heard from him or spoken to him since. She doesn't even really know if he's still alive, or how she could even get word to him if she needed to. Wow. It almost makes me glad that I haven't spent the past three years dating a guy like that, as although I do miss not having a regular boyfriend, at least I haven't been left going through a trauma like that.
At this point, I got a pleasant surprise when I spotted a very late arrival, Roofie's Brother! A little bit tipsy and happy on beer, I went up and gave him a kiss hello, and was pleasantly surprised when he hugged me and then kept an arm wrapped tightly around me to talk to me for a while, holding me in close to him. It almost made me want to ask, "Oh, so this is still on?"
Alas, I didn't get to talk to him for as long as I would like, as he was dragged away as usual by Sister Fister. It's strange, because I'm not sure if she means to be such a wrench in the works, but I've noticed that she's very possessive of "her boys", Roofie, his brother, and Angel. Although she has no romantic designs on them herself, she's one of those girls who is never really comfortable with her male friends talking to other girls. I guess if it's one of your only sources of male attention, you hate to give that up, but it's really not being much of a good friend, really. Goodness knows I get irritated when the Tall South African hangs around me too much when I'm trying to talk to guys, I think it's sort of your obligation to give your friends freedom to flirt with the opposite sex. At least when I'm out with Joel or with the Young Dutchman, I actually think I'm quite a good wing-woman, and give them space to chat up girls when they need it. As I do my female friends when they've met a cute guy. Really, it just seems to be poor form to monopolize people's attention so much. Particularly after Sweetheart told me how little patience he has for her any more and how much he actively dislikes her, I find that my excuse was, "I should be patient with her because everybody else is", but if they aren't really, why should I be either?"
So it was a pity when far too soon, Roofie's Brother was dragged off somewhere else, but at least he gave me one last usual, lovely, solid kiss on the lips good-bye. And it made me smile because it's not even like my little pecks with Sweetheart, but a real kiss that makes me tingle, every time. Ah, but how every time I just find myself wishing for more..
Finally at around 10:30, the crowds seemed to be moving on, and I saw an opportunity to get home at a reasonable hour, so I left with Matt and Cookie. (They apparently had one drink more when they got home to Clapham, which Matt told me later really put them over the edge, but I was wise and cut off all my drinking at that point). A good day out with great friends, even if England did lose the day. Ah, until next time...
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