Weekend Recap...Profanity Warning

I hadn't really planned on going out Friday night. But when the bell tolled on the end of yet another dragged out day of long boredom, I was more interested in grabbing a pint than going straight home to crack open some books. Of course, the seed was planted by the Roving Alcoholic (RA) who started an email chat with a joke about getting a drink after work. Once planted, it became inevitable that we go out.

We started at Bed, a nice club right around the corner from our office building. We've gotten to know the staff there, so we always get comped some drinks along the way. There was this guy there that the RA knew so he joined us. Around 830 or 900, this other guy insisted that we move on. Bed is never that lively and he had big plans. Thusly, we left.

The second place we went to has a name that I do not recall. I walk by it every day that I go to work, but I had never realized it was a club. From the outside, it looks like a rather small, modern pub. However, once inside, you realize that there is a huge downstairs that is absolutely packed with people getting filthy drunk. It's a nice space down there because it isn't too loud (unlike some clubs) and there is ample dance space and talking space. You don't have to dance if you don't want to, but you can if you choose.

Anyway, not in the door five minutes when I notice this cutie eying me and offering up a few small smiles. We engage in a few minutes of smile tag before I head over to her and introduce myself. Turns out she's from South Africa and works for a company that I actually have on my "apply list". She didn't want to totally desert her colleague's, so after 10 minutes, she turned back to them. I figured that was the brush off. She seemed sincere enough, but usually when a woman says something like that, it's a "you're nice, but I'm just not that interested" kind of deal. So I went to the bar and retrieved some beers. When I got back to my friends, I looked back and she was smiling at me again! Not having any of that, I went over and asked if she wanted to dance a bit. She agreed and we danced and talked for another five minutes at which point she asked me for her number because she felt bad about leaving her colleagues. After an absurdly difficult attempt to exchange numbers (we were both a little tipsy and it was really loud), we said our goodbyes, she said she would call the next day, and that was it. No matter what happened after that, I was good for the night. Definitely an ego boost and a nice thing to meet a woman that seemed cute, nice, smart, and sincere.

Soon, our relentless march to the next club was underway. This time, it was a club called Agenda. One of the good things about the guy who was leading us on was that he knows all the bouncers, so we weren't paying to get in. Agenda was very similar to the previous spot. It looked fairly small from outside, but was huge inside (all one floor this time). We met several girls, none of whom were that interested, but some of whom we danced with. After about an hour, it was time to leave again.

The last stop (for me) was Atlantic in Piccadilly Circus. Somehow, we got there by cab although I know that neither I or the RA paid for it. But it was a fairly quick trip, so it couldn't have cost much more than 10 quid. Atlantic is a really nice club. We never would have gotten in without our guide and even then we had to pay 10 pounds each. It's a semi-exclusive club that used to cater only to VIPs. And you can tell from the inside. They have essentially two rooms. One is a huge room with a semi-circle bar that stretches around the middle flanked by couches and a few tables. Near the back there appeared to be a bit of a dance floor, although I never made it that far. The good thing about the bar is that it's not expensive. Bottles of beer cost approximately 3 pounds, which is great for a club.

The second room, the "VIP" area, was more tables and couches than dance floor. I only know this because I'm good at acting like a VIP. Ok, seriously, the door wasn't exactly guarded, so we just went in. There's a bar at one end and the room is longer and narrower than the main spot, but it's still nice in there.

Anyway, while in the first room, I saw a group of girls, some of whom were cute, some of whom were less than cute. My mates and I were standing next to them and I caught the eye of one of the cute ones. So I start moving a little closer to see if there's a dance in it when one of her (unattractive) friends leans over and murmurs in her most posh British accent, "Please go away."

I turned to her and said, "what did you say?"

"Please go away," she repeated.

"How RUDE!" I retorted with my best outrage I could muster at half pissed midnight.

"What?" she queried. "I asked politely!"

"How typically British," I replied. "It's ok to tell someone to fuck off if you tell them politely. Well, here's how we do it in America: Go fuck yourself."

With that, I turned and left. I was in no mood to bandy with overweight British bitches with typically rude British mannerisms. Anyone who knows me at all knows that I never do that sort of thing. In fact, when the gay guy was grabbing my ass I shouted at him and told him it was "inappropriate". But I blew my top that night. Ten months of frustration because I either A) don't understand British mating rituals or B) don't measure up to whatever posh ideal that British girls seemingly embrace but never find. The whole episode pretty much summed up the entire "try to meet British girls" experience over the past 10 months. There's a reason why there are so many Bridget Jones'. If you aren't part of the solution, you're part of the problem and the Brit girls I've met, even the ones I'm not interested in at all, are part of the problem.

Whew. I feel better now with that off my chest. The next day, I hoped Ms. South Africa would call. When she hadn't called by 4, I called her, but she didn't pick up. I didn't leave a voice mail because I hate doing that when you just meet a girl - it's always better to get someone live on the phone. She did call, however, the next day. I was out to lunch with my mates at this tasty and delicious Colombian restaurant so I didn't hear her call, but she left a message apologizing for missing my call on Saturday. We chatted later in the afternoon and we're going out on Friday. There's a couple things I like about this one (looks, togetherness) but one thing stands out - she asked me for my number and she asked me out before I could get there. That speaks to a confidence that I find highly attractive. Hopefully I won't blow it or she won't turn out to be some kind of axe-murdering freak, or worse, turn out to be British.

The rest of my weekend was comprised of procrastination and schoolwork. I didn't get that much done, but I got enough. I finally started writing my Globalization paper although I didn't do much at all on my thesis proposal. Speaking of which...