20 June 2012


So, I got unexpectedly drunk the other night.

One of those nights when it's 10pm and then it's suddenly 3am.

A friend lured me to this tragic bar that I fucking love in South London. For those of you in the know, it rhymes with sewers. And sometimes resembles them too.

Seriously, though, it's like one big gay lucid dream: you can do or say whatever you want and there are no consequences. I once saw my friend Andy mouth the all the words to the opening medley from Sister Act 2.

With actions.

On the stage.

No consequences.

My friend Tony was there with an assortment of his friends some who I had met before, some who I had not. One of them was a very handsome gent we shall call The Married Man because he was in fact married - to a guy coz gays can do that now - which he told me within the first few minutes of meeting him.

I felt like it was his way of saying he was off limits. Which I was cool with. In some way I think I was relieved. There was no need to pose mysteriously behind the veil of double vodka lemonades like I normally do, because, ultimately, nothing was going to happen.

Or so I thought.

I know, totes controversh!

We'd been chatting and laughing about shit all night when I came back from the bar and the song Call Me Maybe was on. I fucking hate that song. Anyways, The Married Man pulls a card out from his pocket and says, "Hey I just met you and this is crazy, but here's my number, so call me maybe".

I know. Does anyone have any crackers to go with this cheese?

I chose to laugh it off and thought, that's nice, I've made a new friend.

So, anyway I shoved the card in my pocket not really realising what had just happened and kept on dancing. It slowly became apparent that he was habouring a boner for me when he kept paying me attention and only dancing with me. I have to admit, I had a bit of boner for him too.

I went to the toilet if anything just to regroup. I took out the card and noticed it wasn't a business card, it was a pulling card. It had his mobile, email and facebook on it, with a jaunty "Let's drink lunch together sometime" message on the flip-side. Who has the money and spare time to send that to the printer?

I wondered whether he waited all night for that song to come on as well.

So. I went back to the group and we kept on dancing...and drinking. It started to become apparent that he definitely was harbouring said boner for me when he said, "You're really cute".

Hmmm how to diffuse this sitch. So, I kissed him on the cheek and I said, "You're really cute too, you're boyfriend is really lucky".

"He's my husband".

Good, acknowledge the commitment that you have made to each other.

Then we pashed. I want to say he pashed me to clear my conscious, but we both kissed each other. And for the rest of the night we pashed. In front of his friends. And they didn't bat an eyelid.

Look, open relationships have never really floated my boat - to be in one or to be the special guest star. Let's be honest, there is always one mate who is doing it to keep the other one happy. Otherwise why be in a relationship at all? Why not just be single?

And on the flip-side, I don't wanna become involved with someone who has "The Husband" clause written into their contract. Like, at any moment when they feel you becoming too attached they turn around and say, "But you know I have a husband?"

Oh and I also hate threesomes. I feel like I'm in an eating competition.

I digress.

If the bar we were in was a big gay lucid dream, then The Married Man's relationship must be one big gay lucid dream. A relationship without the consequences. Nothing to be held accountable for. Maybe I'm missing something here, but for me it's just being greedy. You're having your cake and fucking it too.

That analogy worked better in my head.

The only thing I know for sure is that the bar we were in can very quickly turn from a big gay lucid dream into a big gay nightmare.

Say at 3am.

Sister Act 2 Medley in full swing.



  1. I'm so jealous someone pulled the "so call me maybe" trick on you. I'm still waiting for someone to do it to me. Just so I can take the piss.

  2. I was put on to your Blog by a suggestion of Dan Murphy on facebook... and let me say he was not wrong when he said this was the funniest blog on the internet. i started yesterday and am now up to date. who cares if people lookat me on the train like i'm a freak becuase i am pissing myself laughing. Here's to you and your ever last hunt Laurence with a U not a W -x-


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