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I was out last night to catch up with a guy I had met at a bar in recent weeks. We had a very quick chat the first time we'd met, then about a week ago we had another quick conversation by phone where we arranged to possibly be at the same bar around the same time. So last night ensued. It was odd as it was a rather unconvincing arrangement to have made. He was there with his friends and I joined them for a moment to say hi to him. They appeared rather affected. We chatted a minute before his phone rang and while he spoke I was devising my excuses to step back to my friends. Honestly I did not have an opportunity to speak to him properly, but there are certain things you learn about a person by the company they keep. There was something amiss, and I hate to miss anything.
I miss being in a relationship. I miss all the good things a relationship offers. Is there any replacement on Earth that can take away the desire for a relationship? It's all good and well to have male (or female if that's your inclination) attention, or company, or "friends", but at the end of the day isn't a deeper, intellectual and emotional connection with another person the goal of all flirtations? Don't get me wrong, I think flirting is a great sport. Keeps the mind active, the wits sharp. But there comes a time, when you want to bring home the bacon, and not just have it for breakfast either, but all the time. Bacon is great. I miss toasted bacon sandwiches on white with brown sauce. Get one for breakkie from a greasy spoon if you feel a bit wobbly after a night of drinking and you'd instantly feel like a million dollars. Ha, good times in London.But the point I believe I have powerfully demonstrated above. Who doesn't love a bacon analogy?
Nursing a horrific hangover. Feeling like I'm out at sea. The stench of stale alcohol and cigarettes linger in the apartment. Why do all good nights have to end this way?
It was indeed a fun night. An impromptu night as it was Ben's colleague's leaving party and Ben only texted me about it in the afternoon. I wasn't entirely up for a night out with a bunch of people I'd never met before, to say farewell to a guy I didn't know, and even Ben himself is a new recruit at his office so overall it was going to to be a very green experience. What tipped the scale was a colleague of mine calling to ask if I could suggest a place for us to all go out to. It was too easy. And only an hour before meeting up, another colleague called to chat and soon I had four people coming. Another two colleagues were already on their way to a salsa night but once that wrapped up they made their way to join our ever growing gathering.
The location was Sappho, a lounge bar with an emphasis on live music. A small, low key venue in the basement level, Sappho was a comfortable place to be. Our group sat together on cushioned lounges, a low table in the middle to keep drinks within easy reach. Our group dynamic is fantastic. I don't think I've seen a newly formed group of friends that seem to connect as quickly as us and with every person in the group just as contributive as the next.
As Brian the lead guitar/singer/soon-to-be-departee rocked the room our happy family was ransacking the bar. Rounds and rounds were consumed. We outlasted Ben's colleagues who all departed by my guess around midnight. We converted the event into our own affair and found the energy and rhythm to sway, jump, twirl, swing and dance to the music.
Eventually our own group began to dwindle and what was left were treated to a free shot of vodka by a barmaid named Bambi. We jumped into a cab and with each passenger we dropped off I felt increasingly happy. Not because I was finally ridding them of the night, but because each one seemed to be going home happy and that made me happy... Until I woke up with a horrific hangover. I'm sure it wasn't the vodka shot. I'd been on vodka all night, now that I am old and wise and know not to mix my drinks. Vodka has always been good to me so why the heck... oh... I now remember in the middle of the festivities being treated to a free shot of tequila by a barmaid named Mini. That was it. Tequila and I are sworn enemies for eternity and I'd vowed never to let it touch my lips again. It bided its time and found a moment of weakness in me, too complacent as it were and I downed the vile brown liquid.
A barmaid named Bambi and another named Mini? The irony, as we are making an animated film with a director who's worked at Disney for a number of years. It's also somewhat traumatising for me to know that I was served hard liquor by two cartoon characters. 
The screwed up faces of Tina Chen... We got there eventually.
