Last night was Tom’s 21st, so we went to the Comedy Club to celebrate. I have missed going there, just feel so cultured going, and we don’t have anything like that around North Wales. Well we do, but it’s like Joe Pasquale in Rhyl for Â£20. No thanks. Shame really, as I’m sure a comedy club in somewhere like Speakers Corner in Colwyn Bay would be good.
Anyway, I digress. There were two really funny comedians and two bombs, so 50% hit rate is not to be sniffed at, especially as the two that were funny were laugh out loud funny. Following the show, we went to a place caleld Heeby Jeebies. I’ve never ever been there before, and kind of got separated from the group on the way (largely due to me wanting a burger, so I got a burger). I was lost, and I couldn’t find anybody. All I knew was this club was “awesome” and “on the same street at the Raz”. I walked up and down the street, walked past the Raz 3 times, and could not find this bloody Heebie Jeebie place. After 3 phone calls, 2 bouncers questioned and a fit girl questioned, I finally found the place. Christ it was well hidden, down a flight of stairs and only a gold, solicitor-esque plaque on the wall notified me that there was something there. Heeby Jeebies.
It was an underground club. By the fact it was a club, and – err – it was underground. Guy and Tom bigged up this place so much, and I didn’t know what to expect. It was nothing like anything I’ve seen in Liverpool, bit posh, but cheap. They had unisex toilets which confused the hell out of me the first time I went in. But something happened that hasn’t happened for about six months.
I got the attention of a girl.
Now, this girl was blantantly (and I mean blantantly) eyeing me up, smiling and brushing up against me. These are pretty good signs that somebody fancies you (probably because I do similar), I would of made a move, but I was nervous. So I made my excuses that “I didn’t really like her” and “her mate was in a wheelchair, so I’d only feel guilty” (both true, though I did spend the rest of the night wondering how they managed to get her wheelchair bound friend into the club, as it was a serious flight of stairs). And spend the rest of the night talking to an ever increasingly drunken Will.
I think herein lies my problem with girls, and I expect to much. I want every realtionship to be perfect, so it’s either all or nothing. I must get used to failure, and get confident.
Anyway, this post has taken me around an hour to write, partly because I’m exhausted. So I’m off to play some MAME. Speak soon!