Wednesday Night Walkabout

Oi! Surely you can understand why I really did not want to write about this yet was dying to.

Wednesday night I was all set to work on my paper for international marketing, which is due next week. Blondie was already working hard on hers. Usually, everyone goes to Walkabout for student nights on Wednesdays but from what I’d heard, no one was going out. So I resigned myself to my paper. Then two of my favorite girls from Arizona (met them in London) walk by dressed all cute and sexy… They were planning on going to Walkabout anyway with some of the College Boys. So after a little consideration and a little more tearing through the closets for clothes, I joined them for a little pregaming in the boys’ room. After my vodka and diet coke…. The girls and their other freakishly odd roomie nicknamed ‘Puddy,’ and I all grabbed the Tube for Leicester Square. Puddy was trashed off her ass, which she hadn’t done at all here yet. She really is pretty weird…

We had planned on getting to Walkabout (bar/club atmosphere) early so as to get a table. 9:30 was just not early enough. The College Boys arrived pretty quickly after us. Double screwdrivers all around and the search for the hott boys begins…

I should prolly note here a very important piece of information. Currently, there is a map. Initially it was just two girls I believe, but now all 7 of the girls we hang out with are involved. It really isn’t as much of a competition as it is a group effort to hit up as many countries as possible. How it works: We go to all these bars and clubs and always (well, not always) end up making out with these random (or not so random) guys. With all of our travels and with just how multicultural London is…. the boys tend to be from just about all over. The goal is to makeout with as many different countries as possible - each makeout warrants a star on the map. So I had England (FootballM) and Ireland (Mikey) and Blondie had the same countries (Bear and Rory). Between the other 6 girls involved they’ve gotten everything from France to South America… Now, please don’t think we’re sluts. Really we aren’t. Well, makeout sluts i guess. But as Kathryn pointed out, this is one time in our lives we can do whatever and not care about it. At home you give a ‘look’ to a taken boy and everyone across campus knows about it. That’s the problem with such a small college campus. But anyway… back to the story.

So the four of us girls walk around and drag each other to new groups of boys as we seek out the cutest ones. I met one pretty cute one. Spiky hair, intense dark eyes, a decent dancer. wow. I have to say I felt pretty dumb. I asked where he is from (a requirement for the game) and he says “Uganda.” I kinda smiled like ‘riiight.‘ And he gives me a funny look and goes, “Seriously. I’m here for university.” “But isnt Uganda really poor?” (yes i am drunk enough to say that. so i’m thinking: like extreme poverty? and, well, black?) “Well, (kinda offended a bit) not all of it is poor. I’m from … (missed it. it was loud there!) … the capital…” Hmmm. my bad. He is obviously one of those less than like 1% of the population there that has some money. So…. snogging for a bit… He asks for my number, and I think I just handed him my phone. So that’s how I learned his name is Alfie. Yep. So now… Thats England, Ireland, Uganda. I don’t think anyone else has had Uganda. lol

Well… I’ve got to say while we were… umm ’snogging’… the College Boys we came with walked by. Oi! I’m a little embarrassed. I guess because I still have a bit of a crush on one of them. Sure they’ve heard snippets of the stories we all have to tell but I still was not keen on them seeing me makingout with a random guy. I mean come on! I have always been proud of the fact that I am the type of girl you take home to mom. *sigh* I prefer the idea of him not having witnessed the fact that I am just like every other girl in the room. damn.

So I very quickly make my goodbyes to Alfie and search out the girls again. Some 10 minutes into my search this really good-looking guy steps into my path. He is from France. A couple of words later and we’re kissing and I hear a laugh. We are in the middle of the dancefloor and who is towering over us but those boys again! The one I kinda like nudges me as I step back from the Frenchman, “hey, what happened to…?” At this he raises his eyebrows and nods in the direction of where Alfie had been. Wow I thought “my bad.” So, in an attempt to save face I walk away from the buff frenchman without a word to him to search, once again, for the girls.

I walk upstairs. I run into the same really cute guy like 4 times. We smile - it’s too loud to talk a lot - and exchange names. He is James from Ireland. He is blonde, maybe 5′9″, easy smile and built kinda like one of my best friend’s old boyfriends. Sadly, that was all we really got to say. His friends were constantly going one way and I was still searching for my ‘leaving buddy’* for the night. Well, I finally found her. She was over the balconey chatting up some guy named Ryan (well, I thought that is what he said but it was hard to hear) and she told me Rissa took Puddy home. Oh well. So I went wandering. Not really any purpose. I just wanted to meet people. A weird older guy started hitting on me. Not really keen on that so I made excuse and walked away.

I ended up back on the other side of the upstairs balconey. I couldnt really see Kris at all anymore but I could see Tall and Ash so I knew there were still people here to go back with. So I lean against this table because I am just a little tired. Roomie’s boots were like 3 inch stillettos or something. This guy walks up. First thing I notice is he is shorter than me. Not much, but I think that he’s 5′6″ maybe 5′7″ which is 1-2 inches taller than me without the shoes. I’m okay with that. He is really fit! (’fit’ here means the same as ‘hott’ in the states) He has a great jawline and cheekbones, blonde spiky hair, and also built kinda like that ex-boyfriend, only a bit smaller. He is really friendly. We talking about the bar. He tells me he is on a rugby team (I love rugby!) and lives in London… and this leads to makingout. Of course. This went on from, well, before I first looked at my phone/clock at 11:45pm until I explained that I had to go home (I made up the excuse of having my interview in the morning - it is actually next week yet).

Well, he wasn’t keen on my going home then or later at 1am, but I made my way downstairs to find if any of the guys or my leaving buddy were still there. The College Boys were. I talk to them for a moment and turn around, and there is Mr. Rugby. He and I start dancing again because the boys proved useless in telling me where my leaving buddy was. I didn’t want to leave without her. Plus, she had my coat check ticket - for Blondie’s coat (yes i borrowed her coat, boots, and shirt that goes down-to-there, which is why I got so much attention that night i swear to God) So I text her. You have to understand I really liked this guy (not like liked - just was a really cool guy and very good kisser and dancer but was really interesting.) He told me a number of times through the night that he was having so much fun and that i was “gorgeous.” Now what girl doesn’t like to hear that she is gorgeous especially when the guys really sounds like he means it. However, his hands, like every other guy our age, have ‘roaming issues.’ (I’m wearing a skirt) So I decided it was time to head home and chalked him up to another drunk ‘fit’ boy who I’ll never see again. I don’t make out with boys I expect to see ever again. Just imagine that awkward convo where it’s like ‘hey you again! ummm. so. snogging was fun.‘ So i text my girlOk r u still here? Bc i should go

Im here she responds. Well, at this moment Mr. Rugby starts kissing me again - very difficult to resist. However, at that moment that College Boy I still kinda dig dips this girl he is dancing with and kisses her. So while I am a little self-conscious about making out with the 3rd guy of the night in front of them (I swear they always show up when I am with someone!) and a bit jealous I’ll admit. Anyway. So we make-out more and move away from the center of the dancefloor where those guys are. I think he felt a little uncomfortable since I knew those two. So over Mr. Rugby’s shoulder (bad bad bad i know!) while we’re kissing I text my girlDo u have my coat tict

Perhaps yes? and later Where are you

coat cgeat (which was supposed to be coat check, however, i was just guessing at which keys are was supposed to push bc we were kissing again) So it takes her a while to respond. All this time I am by coat check waiting for her. Some girl interrupts our twosome to tell me she loves my shirt! “where did you get it? Jane Norman? It is made for you!” “ummm thanks?” what was I supposed to say? ‘no clue, it’s my roommate’s??? So I call my leaving buddy again. My excuse to Mr. Rugby this time was that she and I had to go home together because she has my coat ticket. She can’t really hear me over the phone. and then she texts coming home so now i am really confuded. First of all, no clue what she means by that. did she leave? and secondly, I find that somehow without my knowing he unhooked my bra. ok. now what. so I text where? And she doesn’t answer. By this time I have realized she prolly left already. So i finally leave a full 2hrs after i first told him i had to leave. He was uber insistent that we should go back to his flat. It’s is so difficult to say no when you’ve been drinking! I finally drag myself outside and call that girl who was supposed to leave with me. She texts me I have your jacket well now. that’s all i needed to know. So he and exchange #s and I put my name in his phone book. Well… he never put his name in mine. So…. I don’t know his name…. at all. I don’t think I’ll ever hear from him again. o well.

It wasn’t cold outside so I walked to the bus station and grabbed the first bus to Trafalgar Square. Then from Trafalgar I found my favorite bus stop and waited for the N97 to come take me home. The bus drivers and everyone were so nice to me. “Are you cold?” “no” “where’s your coat?” ok. not going into that again. So i finally get off, alone, at the South Kensington stop I always get off on. Now it’s cold. And lonely. And that area, though it is still Kensington, is a little scary at night. I think all the people on the bus thought i was a hooker or something with the looks they gave me. I mean granted, i wasn’t wearing a coat. I was alone. I was wearing no stockings or tights and a short short skirt and Blondie’s black leather stilletto hooker boots and a lowcut shirt. Anyways. walking back alone - even though it is prolly only 1/2 mile - was kinda scary and i felt a little vulnerable at 3am. But anyway. Made it back. Went upstairs after getting my coat from the girl’s room and brushed my teeth. I got as far as taking off Blondie’s jacket and shirt and putting on a tank and then I passed out - in my skirt and boots on my bed… I awoke at 6:30am in what i was wearing the night before. I woke up Blondie and told her the whole thing. Her response? “Good! I hope he texts you!”

It is at this point in the night that I realized maybe it would have been good to have Blondie there because she wouldn’t have let me go around making out with all the boys… too late now. hey, I got France, Uganda, and something else all in one night tho!

So I doubted i’d hear from him again, despite his constant, “what are you doing tomorrow night? Where will you be? We should do something.” I told him to text me. He told me to text him. pshh as if I’m going to text him. nope. So never see this guy again. kinda disappointed but oh well.

The next day i get a text while i am with my dad. Hey how are u? Wat did thinkof last nite, I had a great time. It was our last rugby game of d season yesturday, My legs are killin. Are u doin nething excitn at d weekend? x

First of all, I am stunned he actually texted. but ok. So i respond, hey! last nite was a blast! think i’m going 2 les mis @ some pt- maybe tomorrow. what r u up 2 this wknd?

Then on friday he texts back Im goin up to wigan2 watch d football wont b back until sunday. Do u live in london? Wud u like to go out for a drink next week? x

I respond I’d luv 2 go 4 drinks ltr this wk. Let me know when ur free - i leave fri 4 holiday. x

To Be Continued… (hopefully!)

*Leaving Buddy = The girl you pick to go home with that night - Basically to make sure that no one goes home alone. except I always went home alone… everyone always forgot me at the bars. Or I guess you could say I always forgot to leave. oops!