I recently ventured to the West End of London, in the hope of a relaxed evening with friends. The plan was to meet up at a public house for 6pm and then take in the (now defunct) Spamalot musical at the Palace Theatre next door.
I arrived at the pub location rather early… around 1 hour 20 minutes early to be precise. But I knew it was highly likely that one or two of my friends might show up just after 5pm…
I sat down with my alcoholic beverage and a view to entertain myself with the aid of my iPhone (a portable device that gets me out of awkward social situations and makes it appear that I do indeed have friends when I’m drinking alone). No sooner had I sat down a woman materialized out of nowhere and asked if she could join me while she waited for friends (who would allegedly show up at 5pm). Fair enough, I thought. I’m sure I can take 20 minutes of tedious small talk.
The woman was of Kiwi origin and possibly in her mid to late thirties. I didn’t find her remotely attractive as she reminded me of a rather stern, drunk headmistress.
Our conversation seemed quite normal at first, though when 5pm came and went I thought I’d ask exactly whom she was waiting for and what time they may be arriving. It transpired that she’d been waiting for a man – for three hours. And had evidentially been drinking for the duration…
Whether or not this man was of fictional origin or not, he was a wise man for failing to show up – albeit at my own expense.
What followed was the most uncomfortable hour of my life. Not since a doctor examined my testis had I felt so unnerved.
The woman (who shall henceforth be known as ‘Susan’) started to touch my arm in a flirtatious manner, and then upon realizing I had red hair demanded to touch it. I recoiled slightly in horror, so she told me to stop being so ‘uptight’ and that I should relax.
Susan asked why I appeared to be so jumpy, nervous and distracted, as I kept glancing at my phone and looking at every face that walked through the door. I explained that I was just looking out for my friends, who would show up at ‘any minute’…
But events would soon take a turn for the worse…
After ascertaining that I didn’t have a girlfriend, She asked me if I had a ‘Honey bee’ (meaning a girl who I was attracted to). I said YES. A harem in fact.
She said that I should ‘go for it’ and that I should stop being so shy and nervous. “After all these years you still don’t get it do you?” she mumbled. Which was a rather odd thing to say if you ask me, considering I’d just met the woman.
It was at this point she asked; “You have testicles don’t you?”
I nodded with a mixture of confirmation and sheer astonishment.
Then she asked me back to her place.
I declined, without any kind of hesitation.
“Oh, I don’t mean for that!” she quickly responded. “We can just chill out, relax…”
The following moments felt like an eon. Susan asked if I wanted a beer, to which I politely declined. Upon her departure to the bar I received a text message from Mr Nick Grover, who was one of my party. “Will be 40-45 minutes late” read the message. By this point the fire exit or even an open window was looking mighty tempting, but then I turned to find my new-found crazy drunk friend had fallen to her knees while carrying two pints back to our table.
A gentleman would have helped her to her feet, so fortunately for her there was one nearby. I remained seated, being more concerned as to why she was carrying two pints when I made it distinctly clear that I didn’t want a drink.
Susan sat back down at the table, when an unknown woman approached to congratulate her for falling over without actually spilling any beer. At this point I wished that I’d mastered powers of ESP, as my eyes were crying out ‘Help… me’.
Just when I thought things couldn’t get any worse she said “I’m really so glad I met you. I mean really glad. You’re such a lovely man. Really nice”
“Thanks for saying so” I replied, as I reached for my phone.
“You’re gorgeous. I just want to give you a big squeeze”
“Riighht” I squirmed…
“Come and sit next to me” she whispered. “I want a cuddle”
“No, I’m alright thanks” as I calmly tapped out a text message to my friend Jess…
“Are you close by? I’m FREAKING… “
And at that moment Jess entered the room like a ray of sunshine. I don’t recall ever being so pleased to see someone in my entire life.
Unfortunately Jess assumed that crazy woman was in fact my friend, Danielle.
“NO. This isn’t Danielle.” I informed her. “We’ve just met, I don’t know her”
At this point my friends began to trickle through the doors, as I explained to each one in turn that I was not in any way associated with the intoxicated bunny boiler.
It took a fair while, but after insulting one of my friends, sarcasticly applauding me and spilling more beer down her midriff, the crazy Kiwi upped and vanished into the night…