I guess it had to happen eventually. I've finally shagged someone I have something in common with. Unfortunately, it's the wrong thing.
Bad Things always happen when I try and give up smoking - my vodka monkey really comes alive. In this case, it was a mini pub crawl, which ended up, much to my surprise in Central Station. I spent some of the time chatting to a charming young barrister called Lee ("it seemed local, and sounded fun, and - oh god, what *is* the stripper doing?"), and then, when he left...
Well, there was this bloke, and he was handsome, and we were obviously both feeling a bit shy - so the obvious thing to do was bang each other senseless in the back room (please don't let this be my new bad habit). We were all over each other, laughing, fiddling, and swatting away the hands of fat strangers.
After a while we paused. To be exact, he turned round from the wall mid-shunt, and said, "Hmm, you're still there aren't you?"
"Yup."
"Thought so. In that case, someone's giving me a blow job, and it's not you."
"Well, that's ruined the magic of the evening."
"True. Fancy a drink?"
So we got talking. Found out each other's names, had a bit of a laugh, you know. Until the dreadful moment when we started talking about jobs.
Him: "I'm a kind of interactive strategist."
Me: "I edit websites."
Him: "Really? How funny. That's some of my job. Who do you work for?"
Me: "The BBC."
Him: "So do I."
And that's where it all went wrong. Suddenly work collided with harmless grubby fun, and we both stopped smiling. At work, I'd only come across him through an appointment with my boss's boss's boss and a stern warning to not put a foot wrong. Here, it just took a winning smile and a filthy mind. Isn't the real world funny?
It suddenly got sad. We went from "I want to take you home and bang your brains out" to "We really should meet up for coffee sometime. It would be nice."
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