To celebrate my blog’s fourth birthday, I decided to give everyone a rest from my prattling and instead hand over to a guest contributor – and not just any guest poster, oh no. This wonderful, funny tale of a brief encounter comes from none other than my wonderful, funny boyfriend. Take it away, handsome…
It’s Friday night, and “the girls” are on the town. I’m with my friend James and his mate Chris, who I’ve not met before, and the scene could not be more like the start of Grease if a load of girls in pink jackets appeared and started singing Summer Nights.
Chris, you see, is in love. He’s just met Dan, and he’s keen to tell us more, tell us more.
“He’s just perfect,” he sighs.
“HOT. Amazing body. Perfect kisser. Great sex. And he’s SO into me. I think we might have a real future together. I just can’t believe my luck!”
James and I, painfully single, each raise an eyebrow. Frankly, we can’t believe his bloody luck either. And to put the tin lid on it, this God of a gay is on his way to join us, so we’ll have to watch them getting off with each other all night.
A couple of drinks later and Chris perks up even more when his beloved arrives.
As he walks towards us, we see that Dan is indeed HOT, with an amazing body. And I realize that I know exactly how how perfect a kisser he is, because I had been suctioned to that oh-so-beautiful face mere months earlier.
“You know who that is, don’t you?” I whisper to James.
He nods wearily, having been one of the unfortunate witnesses on the night Dan and I had made quite the spectacle of ourselves on the dance floor before vanishing into the night.
When Dan sits down beside me, it becomes clear that his memory is not quite as vivid. As we’re introduced, he regards me with suspicion.
“Have we met before?” he asks.
“I’m sure I would remember if we had,” I reply, icily.
Eventually, Chris and Dan head to the bar.
“Bloody hell,” I say to James. “He’s the last person I wanted to see.”
James smirks. “Really?” he says. “Didn’t you say he was the best sex you’d had in your life?”.
I scowl. “Well, yes. But I’m obviously the only one who thought so. He doesn’t remember me!”.
Dan returns, plonks himself back down and peers at me intently. “You look so familiar. Do you ever go out in Clapham?” he asks.
“I’ve only been there once,” I reply.
Dan will not be placated, and an hour of gentle interrogation follows. Eventually, he loses patience. “I’ve definitely met you before,” he says, just a bit too loudly. “Are you sure you don’t go to the Two Brewers?”.
It’s obvious I’m going to have to spell it out, so I lean in to remind him about the cold January night when he dragged me back to his Clapham lair and administered the best sex I’d had in my life.
Suddenly, Dan can remember our encounter only too clearly – right down to the phone call he made the following afternoon, not quite accusing me of stealing his Vue Cinema unlimited pass.
“I’m sorry I never called you,” he tells me. “It was a big mistake. Can I see you again?”
A-well-a-well-a-well-a-HUH?
I glance at Chris, who gazes adoringly at his new love, even as he puts the moves on me. Do I really want to be him? Looking on while my beautiful boyfriend blatantly chats up other men?
I consider this for a moment and, remembering the best sex I’d had in my life, decide that yes, I absolutely want to be him.
Last orders are called. James and Chris head off to the cloakroom, leaving Dan and I alone at the bar.
“So, can I give you my number?” he begs.
“I have your number,” I laugh.
“Oh, yeah. Well, please give me yours then. I promise I’ll call you.” He asks to the barman for a pen and paper as Chris walks back toward us. “Write it down,” he whispers, urgently. “I’ll shake your hand when we leave and you can slip it into mine.”
Devious! He’s no first-time philanderer.
I take the paper, discreetly scribble on it, fold it up and pass it to Dan, as arranged. The happy couple leave – Dan gives me a cheeky wink as he goes, and Chris is none the wiser.
Do I feel guilty? Absolutely not! Just a bit sad that I won’t be there to see Dan’s beautiful face as he opens the piece of paper to read:
“You absolute bastard”.
Image: Flickr
