I generally big myself up too much on this blog, one such area is in my personal life. I’m lucky to have one woman chase after me, let alone two. I’ve never been put in a situation where two women have been fighting for my charms. I’ve got a lovely girlfriend in Alyson, but I’ve yet to be tested.
Until last night.
I went out with Mike (the last of my housemates still in Liverpool) for a little pre-christmas drink. We ended up in Flanagans in Liverpool, which is an Irish bar on Matthew Street, as a few people he knew from bowling were there. To be honest, I wasn’t feeling 100%, so I kind of stayed in the background, nursing my pint, and looking around the room, where I made eye contact with a girl. I did the honest thing, smiled, and looked away, and thought nothing of it.
Except she didn’t.
I started speaking to Mike at this point, making huge amount of eye contact with him, as I felt her eyes staring a hole into the side of my head, thinking about the empty chair to the side of me, and praying to god she didn’t sit down. God didn’t answer my prayers, and she sat down beside me.
She was quite a large woman, and about twice my age, and didn’t seem to have a clue where she was at. She started by trying to sit on my lap, then jokingly slipped off. To say she was drunk would be an understatement: she had blood poisioning in her alcohol stream. Now, I felt myself out of my depth and doing something I’ve never done before, trying to let her down as gently as possible.
I did my absolute best to be honest. I mentioned Alyson, and she said “She won’t know, c’mon, just you and me. Bit of festive spirit” (or words to that effect), and repeated over and over again that I was flattered, but not interested. Her arm started stroking my leg. My free leg was then used to kick Mike under the table, which is the internationally recognised symbol for “Lets get the hell out of here.”. I said my goodbyes, she tried to follow. I told her no.
Finally, she listened.
Even now though I do feel guilty. I mean, I looked over to her mates when I was leaving, and they looked at me like I was Hitler. I looked back with a “sorry” expression on my face, as Mike – being the mate he is – told the world of my male whority.