It was a Friday, I was suffering minor economic melt-down, and had just decided to drop the mountain of work I was trying to carry successfully across the deadline. Mixed metaphors, I'm sure.
Solution?
- Go to gym
- Hope to see light-blue-t-shirt guy
- Fail to (not part of solution)
- Come home and cook dinner
- Eat dinner in front of TV with some fridge-stock beer
- Go upstairs and log on to well-known online service whose name may or may not rhyme with radar (yeah, sorry — should've mentioned this in the catch-up — was a drunken creation) and see if I've any messages
- Find message from nearby dude who looks cute (okay, also not part of solution, but definitely a bonus)
At this point, LS bounds in using the spare key, and demands we look at porn on the interweb. We do. Then, about 15 minutes later, in falls the Aussie, with Rob off of his office.
Rob is decidedly my type. Small, compact, wiry as you like. Oh yeah, and — the usual kicker — he's really straight. Thanks for that. Very comfy around lords, but really straight.
But I don't care. So, after LS and the Aussie have a bit of banter with us, LS disappears off to bed, while I fire up the recently-ressurected shisha for me, Age and Rob. I've recently taken a shine to this bit of kit, so I like to share and share alike with those I like :o)
Over vodka and coke, the three of us yammer away. Rob's finding it funny how Age and LS get on, saying it's exactly how he and the Aussie go on. And Age and I puff away at the shisha. Eventually, Rob gives in and sacrifices some of his fitness (medical only, I note</pest>), and joins us in the smoking. As a non-smoker, I get a hell of a kick out of these things. I'm not used to the usual nicotine rush, and Mr Rob is the same.
As the night wears on to about 3:30 (they piled in about 1:30), Age decides he's had enough booze and tobacco, and heads to bed. Rob checks to make sure I'm not going to bed yet, in a way which I take to mean something between "please stay up and talk" and "please stay here and stare at my arms when you think I'm not looking".
ACtually, now I think of it, there was something else that gave me the wrong signal. He'd got off with teh wrong girl at the orifice do that night, and wanted to talk about it. He was really down on himself for embarrassing her (bless 'im) and said that he didn't want to be on his own that night. (Guess whose radar blipped at that!)
But, regardless, the guy is really cool to chat with, too. He's good craic and extremely laid back. Even though he wasn't a lord, and even if I was drunk and horny (theme of the weekend?), I was still happy to sit up and talk shite. Not often I've got to do that recently, so I was pretty chuffed, if a little sheepish, when I saw that there was more light coming in through the window than escaping out of it. It was about 8:00. Feck. I felt like a teenager who's just been up drinking all night for the first time. Ha!
As we'd laid off the booze for a couple of hours, he decided to head for home.
So this all explains my knackered state the next day. I'd had about 12 hours' half-decent sleep in the last three nights, after all.
Cool night. Always nice to meet someone new and cool.
(I'm also thinking that there's a lot of bridges I need to repair in 2006. And some explaining to do on my part...)
