Oddly, I forgot to write about Drogaz. He emerged a couple of months ago from the Orange Facebook and insisted we meet. There's something engaging about this as a notion. 22-year old Fashion Student with Eastern European Eyes and Effort Hair? What's not to love?
So we meet for tea in Marble Arch. And he approaches, and there's so much swish in his stride his hips are on ball-bearings.
"I am Drogaz," he intones, plucking off one pair of sunglasses and replacing them with another. He rearranges his hair and smiles. "We drink."
We walk to Starbucks and I think, "This is odd."
He asks me what I do for a living, nods, and then smirks. I ask him, and he pulls three phones out of his pocket. "Guess," he says.
"Oh," I say.
He nods. "Yes. I work three hours a night, party loads, and get given amazing clothes. I shock you, yes?"
Not really. It's just a bit...
"Don't worry," he pats me on the forearm, "I buy you coffee."
And we sit outside and he chainsmokes and laughs. And then one of his phones goes off. "Is friend Julian," he sighs, lifting his sunglasses so that I can see him rolling his eyes. "He is very dull but he is safe. If I do not like you I tell him and then he tells me I must feed my cat."
"You have a cat?" I say, "Well, I have one too and she-"
He waves away some smoke. "I am not interested in your cat. I am interested in you."
Julian arrives. He is very odd. He's from Hong Kong, is also, uh, a well-funded student, but behaves strangely like a geisha. I realise that sounds weird, but he sits there, giggling quietly from behind a FAN, and occasionally whispers something to Drogaz, glances in my direction, and then whispers again.
This is the point, I think, when I should just go. But Drogaz stills me with a glance. "You stay," he says. "Julian and I have private talk."
They go and stand round the corner. Chainsmoking while Julian giggles. He is somehow managing to smoke while fluttering his fan, creating an effect like a bellows.
They shuffle back.
And I look at Drogaz and he looks at me and I think "this really is One Of Those Dates."
"We have been talking about you," murmurs Drogaz, "We say good things."
"Which is unusual, as we are such bitches." (Julian titters at this), "But no. You we like. But some - oh! - some! I have four friends, we are like mad crazy bitches.
You would not think, but we are unlucky in love. Julian is Samantha and I am Carrie. You know Sex and the City? Is the story of our lives! Is our favourite show! "
"I must use the bathroom," says Julian and goes inside.
Drogaz leans forward. "Of course is not. Is shit show. I would rather be watching Stargate: Atlantis, but do not tell him that. He is viper."
"Umm," I say, suddenly rather liking him. "Is Julian going?"
"Soon soon," says Drogaz. "Why? You hate him? He is very dull. If you wish, I tell him."
"No! No!" I protest, "It's just, this isn't what I thought..."
"I am not a slut!" A shrug, "Not in daytime. No. We meet. We have coffee. We have walk in park. Maybe we kiss. Is nice."
Is nice. Julian comes back from the bathroom. We get up to go round the park. Julian follows. So, we walk round the park. And I'm thinking I'd rather not be, and yet at the same time, finding it all enjoyably silly.
How does it end? Ah. We get talking about Romania, the beloved country where Drogaz comes from. I ask him why he came over here. And how long he's been here, and things like that. And also, you know, why a 22-year old would be...
"Haha!" he laughs, "Of course I am not 22! I say that to stop the foolish bitches! No! I am 17! Well, soon."
And that's when I announce it's time I went home and fed the cat.