A Night Out With Your Friends Friends

A night out with friends is supposed to be something to look forward to; a chance to lose your inhibitions and a chance to let your hair down and have a bit of fun; an opportunity to get wasted and really show your friends what you can do on the dance floor. But more often than not there is a nagging niggle in the back of your mind that prevents any of this from happening.

To begin with there’s that air of uncertainty, that uncontrollable atmosphere where no one really knows each other very well and as you all nervously sip at your drinks trying not to down them, you’re careful to take in every bit of information that you’re being told and try to remember it for future reference, just in case anyone asks later.

The leader of the pack wants to move on from the bar you’ve all been sat in for the last hour and go on to the next one but two people haven’t yet arrived and time is ticking. Patiently or impatiently you all wait for the missing parties.

After just one glass of wine you’re already inebriated and feeling that numbness around your lips and the light headed giddiness that alcohol gives you in the early stages of a drunken night out with your friends friends. You decide to take it slowly but the nerves are kicking in and you feel the need to have something to drink just to take the edge off. Why you’re nervous you don’t know, although you don’t really know the majority of the people you’re with. Maybe it’s the uncertainty of what might happen at the end of the night, the fear of a repeat of what happened the last time, that uncontrollable sense of being in someone’s arms, their lips locked on yours and the simple fact that you don’t even know their first name, let alone their last.

And then you see him. Tallish, dark hair, dark eyes and a face so cute you could kiss it right there and then, even before you’ve been told his name. His name is Ross. And when he smiles his teeth are so clean they’re like mirrors. Too shy to speak to him and with having no purpose to anyway you go to the next bar and buy yourself a large glass of wine to take the edge off the nerves that are now making the blood pound in your ears.

As the drinks roll into one you start to lose your self-respect and your inhibitions. You’re telling everyone you’re a writer and you’re boasting with pride about the stack load of novels you’ve written and what they’re about and how you’ve just sent off your first chapter to a publisher and are eagerly anticipating their response and their feedback. The girl you’re talking to about it all is thrilled to have met such a creative and passionate person and when she turns to Ross to tell him about you he nods disinterested and looks at Pauline’s breasts like he’s never seen a pair of breasts before.

With the wine flowing and the music blaring from the speakers in each and every bar, the hours of the night roll by and without a thought you end up in a club, by this time you’re obviously fairly intoxicated. You’re talking at the top of your voice, laughing at your own jokes that clearly if you were at all sober no one would find in any way amusing. But on this occasion everyone is laughing and patting you on the back for being such a desirable comedienne. You enter the club and you buy yourself yet another glass of wine that you can’t afford and don’t really need. You’re already seeing double and everyone that passes you by seems attractive and you’re attractive and they all fancy you and you fancy them. You dance like there’s no one watching, as if you’re the only person in the room and all that matters is that you’re having the best night of your life and it beats every other drunken night out you’ve ever had.

Pauline tells you how madly in love with her boyfriend she is and you nod like you know what she means and admire her for being in such a loving relationship. Until she starts to dance with Ross. His hands on her hips, swaying together like they’ve known each other for years, comfortable in each other’s presence and each other’s arms. You’re so jealous you can feel the frown on your face growing bigger. It’s not an attractive look and you try to dance like you don’t care. Rea wants a fag desperately so you follow her down the stairs and out of the club and unbeknown to you until you get outside do you realise that Ross has followed you both in the hope of stealing a cigarette from Rea. You drunkenly confess to him that Pauline has a boyfriend and has told you on many occasions throughout the evening how madly in love she is with him. Ross then asks you to dance. You feel as though all your Christmas’s have come at once, this Adonis has asked you to the floor and with his hands on your waist and yours around his neck you dance, your faces draw closer and without much thought, with too much haste and not enough caution your lips touch, tongues entwined like a snake around a tree you kiss in the middle of the club. The people in the room disappear, the music fades into the background and you stand there lost in a world you’ve always wanted to be lost in with someone so beautiful and so attractive, someone you thought you would never get your hands on in a million years. He barely knows your name and you barely remember his but all that matters is that you got your man.

In the middle of the kebab shop he begs you to spend the night with him; he’ll be good he promises. Is there any way he can persuade you to stay with him. His girlfriend in Hong Kong will never know and neither you nor him will ever tell a soul. You back out of the kebab shop and phone for a taxi to go home alone.