Can men and women be friends? Yes but it is dangerous, in a nice way
I have lots of female friends. I’m not showing off or anything, I’m just stating it as a fact.
They are great because you can ask them why a girl you are dating did something weird, they are often more willing to go clothes shopping and they are generally more up for a dance off.
Also you can provide them useful things in return, insight into the male mind, fixing things and help lifting heavy objects.
I love my female chums, no that’s not quite right, I treasure them.
I think any chap who thinks guys can’t be friends with girls (or the other way around) is a fool and they are closing themselves off to a whole world of fun.
Yes there is occasionally the little sparkle of something else there when you hang around with them but that just adds a bit of extra fizz to the friendship, like the bubbles on top of a glass of champagne.
This post isn’t a party political broadcast though. It’s a record of what happened last night.
How I learned to jive badly
I’ve made some new chums in the past few weeks, it’s one of the best things about London. You never know who you’re going to bump into or which chance encounter is going to turn into a friendship.
There is an actress. She is a friend of a friend, or she was. Biscuit and I went and saw her in a play. She was terribly good and we had a brief slightly awkward chat afterwards before we went off to another bash. She is a small brunette with massive, expressive eyes and an excellent fringe.
A few days later I was at an event and she appeared. Loads of other people were there but we spent most of the night talking nonsense, got incredibly drunk and had a great time. When the party ended we (a group of us) went to a restaurant. There may have been some dancing. It was one of those perfect Soho moments.
She has a boyfriend who she lives with so it’s not line any sort of nonsense was planned, and there were other people there so it was just a jolly lovely time.
We went out again on Friday. She had been drinking all day with a chum. I rocked up after work and joined in the drinking. Everyone was pleasantly mashed. Some of the chums left because they were ruined and we ambled on to a restaurant. There wasn’t any dancing, it was quite a sensible meal really.
The point where the levels of fizz become dangerous
After the excellent food the rest of the people left.
She called her boyfriend to ask, on a scale of 1 to 10 how much trouble would she be in if she stayed out for a few more drinks. He said 1 and so we ended up in a club.
I ordered some drinks. The man messed up our order and so we got a double round. Then the dancing began. She pranced onto the dance floor and did some moves, after the song finished she got a standing ovation from the entire club.
I was taught how to jive, I picked it up reasonably fast and soon I was flinging her around the dance floor. I only fell over twice and I didn’t smash any glasses which is a personal best for me.
Every time a rubbish song would come on we’d stop, sip cocktails and down pints of water and ice. The club was really warm, really really warm. Her hair got a bit messed up and I took my jacket off (I was wearing a suit).
At one point she started up a limbo and we got complete strangers to join in.
There was a lot of dancing, and a bit of drinking but mostly dancing. We made a pact that if she becomes a mega celebrity I have to become a professional dancer so we can win Strictly Come Dancing together. I think, provided I can get enough practice in we would do okay.
Some time, much later we stumbled onto the last tube home, sweaty but laughing like morons.
I parted ways with rushed hug as I changed tube lines. There wasn’t a hint of any sort of nonsense, but after conferring with Biscuit he said I had to write about it because while it wasn’t a date date it had some of the same properties of a nice date.
Something could be about to begin, or not. It’s complicated, but in a nice way. Just like the best friendships between men and women.