Strange gay men don’t make good wingmen
Fridays eh? Everyone loves a good Friday night out. Last night was a good example of the sort of night out that tends to only happen in London. Or at least big cities.
I had a vague plan to meet up with some fashion girls I didn’t actually know. I’d chatted to them on twitter a bit and some how this had progressed to ‘lets meet in a pub!’
So I went. It was fun. They were very tall and slim. Both of them had huge hair, massive fake fur coats on and ‘on trend’ dresses. Everyone there worked at a fashion company and so were painfully hip. Achingly so. There was a girl there who had a job which was just to spot trends. I told her she should bring pipes back, and stovepipe hats
It was faintly awkward because I’d joined a work night out mid-swing but one of my 2011 things is to meet more people so it’s all part of that. I only stayed for a drink and then to scampered off to an album thingy.
A musician was going to do a sneak preview of her new record and I thought I would go along because it sounded fun, also there was the promise of free gin.
The place was absolutely rammed with a huge queue outside but luckily I had remembered to save the PR’s contact details so I called and she ushered me in, put some gin in my hand and sat me down in the press area.
There were four extremely drunk women in the press area so I said hello. They said they were from a paper, I said I was also from a paper and we played the traditional game of find-the-mutual-friend. We found a couple and then proceeded to get more drunk.
I was feeling a little bit tipsy at this point but two of them were absolutely obliterated. To the point where they thought dancing on tables was a good idea. There was also an outrageously camp man with them who was blind drink. Think of the drunkest anyone could ever be and then add one more.
They were having more fun than anyone has ever had, ever.
I got chatting to the most sober of them who had only recently joined the paper. She was very pretty and looked faintly like Minka Kelly. Actually I just googled Minka Kelly and she looked a lot like Minka Kelly.
The subject of films came up and I said
‘Oh so are you going to the premier tomorrow the one for XXXX?’
‘No, I’ve only just joined so I don’t get to go to nice things like that,’ she pointed to her boss who was happily dry humping the camp man on top of a table,’ she gets to go all the parties’
‘Well,’ I said, ‘I’ve got a spare ticket if you want to come along?’
‘When is it?’
‘Sunday, at 1pm’
‘That sounds lovely, but I might be in a bit of a state, I have a big Saturday planned. Can I call you and let you know?’
‘Of course, just warning you though it’s going to be red carpet so it will be quite dressy.’
Phone numbers were exchanged. I’d say there is a 50-50 chance of her calling. Which might be for the best ‘looking like a celebrity I fancy’ isn’t a great basis for a marriage.
The drunk girls left, we said goodbyes and I texted a friend on the paper saying ‘I’ve just been out with some of your co-workers’
The reply was that there was no-one matching their description at the paper. So I’d either been hit with a line or I hadn’t heard where they worked correctly.
I got chatting to someone else, yes a girl, about music. It was a nice chat about stuff but then the massively camp man strode over and poked me in the chest.
‘Don’t bother chatting him up,’ he said to the girl ‘he is a massive gay.’ He then stomped off.
I tried to refute this, without sounding like a homophobe but the girl wasn’t that impressed. Every time I tried to counter it the man would pick at my top and say ‘GAY’.
He was the worst wingman ever, and I didn’t even know who he was.
Biscuit appeared and started talking to people. He was chatting to a friend of the gay man about something and I went to go and see what the band was like. It was the reason I was supposed to be there. They were good. Two songs later I looked back to our table and Biscuit was snogging the lady.
Snogging really quite a lot. In a school disco sort of way.
I had a couple more drinks, talked to the PR a bit but I was utterly spent and poured myself into a cab and went home.
Biscuit wanted to stay a bit longer with his new special friend, who then ended up having a sleep-over. I’m sure he will post about that in a bit.