Don’t give sexual favours to taxi drivers
Following the success of the boxing, I had my next date arranged with Jen a week after. We were planning to go dancing at a night of mash-up DJs. On the face of it this is a good plan, although it does involve quite a considerable cumulative period of cocking your head to one side like a confused dog whilst you look at your friends pulling “what are these songs???” faces.
Toast’s plans had fallen through and I wanted to invite him along too, but didn’t want Jen to feel I had brought an unwelcome interloper. However, being a lady of good heart she basically insisted that he come out with us once she heard that he would have no one but the Xbox for company for the evening.
So that the Xbox did not feel left out either, we fired it up and set about some dancing competitions whilst we shovelled gin into our faces. This experience presented an interesting revelation. Whilst we had got the hang of generally spazzing around in front of the TV and just about managing to pull together the semblance of a routine (with the exception of the time Toast actively tried to throw his games but kept getting scores Jonh Travolta would have been proud of), Jen somehow managed to make the whole thing look like an actual real dance. One you would do in public and everything.
The venue itself was spread over 2 floors: one like a trendy bar and the basement as the dance-floor. Whilst the basement apparently had all the necessary equipment for air conditioning, only one of the many vents in the basement was actually working. This meant that after only a few minutes of dancing you became drenched in your own sweat, and probably some of other people’s too. This meant we kept having to escape upstairs to breathe and dry off. Toast said it’s the most unbelievably hot nightclub he’s ever been in, and he’s been drinking in Texas.
Upstairs we started busting out the Kinekt dance off moves in full unfettered glory. I would have thought this would be enough to put any women off but apparently there was a girl who had been eyeing me up all night. I only knew this because Jen told me about it. Apparently she had appeared near us downstairs, and then up again. She had even made eye contact with Jen searching for approval!
Obviously I was totally oblivious to this, even after it had been pointed out. That should tell you most of what you need to know about how adept I am with ladies.
Towards the end of the evening Toast was flagging because he was the only one who had not had caffeine and Jen was dancing with a giant inflatable pirate. This seemed to be the natural point to go home.
The ride home
Ordinarily that might be the end of the evening’s tales, however we then had a positively bizarre taxi ride. After negotiating with a random ‘cabbie’ we jumped in the car with Jen in the front. There was the usual banter, then the driver started telling us about all the women he had on the go and how he’d already had two that evening already. This was in addition to his wife and three kids (by different mothers).
He kept asking us is Jen belonged to one of us and if she was either of our girlfriend. Since she neither belonged to me or was my girlfriend I couldn’t say either was true. It was all getting uncomfortable and borderline rapey when he pulled up and announced we were home. Only we weren’t. We were no where near home! Whatever postcode he had put in to his sat nav it was not ours, not even close.
This meant another 20 minutes whilst he drove us to our real home. He didn’t serem to be remotely annoyed as he was ‘subtley’ trying to get Jen to give him a handjob in the front of the car!!!
Ordinarily I would have stopped things long before that but since Jen was bantering with him and winding him up she seemed entirely comfortable, even I was ready to thrust my hand into his face and shout “NO” three times clearly before pepper spraying him.
Using my best spy training I got him to drop us off away from our house. We DID get a riverside drive of the Thames for free I suppose, even though we should not have been anywhere near the Thames at any point. I’m not sure it was worth a handjob though.
Marriage percentage: 61% – Finding giant inflatable pirates whilst drunk is definitely a valuable life skill. Not giving strangers handjobs for a ride is a bit of a bonus too.