A tale of two nights

So we had the big night out on Thursday. About a dozen of us got together for a last hurrah. It's quite sad, really. Several of my friends here I'm not likely to see again, even if we do keep in touch via email.

The night kicked off at our uni pub. The drinks are cheap and it was an easy location to gather prior to going out after that. Around 9 or so, we headed out to this place called Soho Bar, shockingly, in Soho. It's a relatively small place, but it's cheap, cheap, cheap which suited our interests. Of course, the downside was that it was so hot that everyone was drenched in sweat within minutes. The place should have been called Dante's or something more appropriate. At any rate, we weren't complaining. There were loads of young, single women there.

At one point, after dancing for a bit, I was overheating and decided to take a breather at the bar. There were two Spanish girls that had taken their shirts off (yes, bra's on) and were dancing right in front of me. I was certainly not complaining. Nor was I complaining when one of them grabbed me from my resting place, started dancing with me, kissed me, and sent me on my way. It was both amusing and shocking. That sort of thing just doesn't happen to me.

Anyway, we decided we couldn't stay at that club for long as we were likely to either expire or spontaneously combust, so we went next door to a club called Barcelona. I liked this one immediately because it was about 1000 degrees cooler. It didn't take long before I found myself embroiled in conversation with strange British women. But the one I was talking with didn't interest me so I changed gears and got to chatting with her friend. Now, to be honest, I can't be sure if the friend was oh so attractive or anything like that, but she was more suited to my tastes. Long story short (as work looks like it will be really busy for the first time in about 6 months), we ended up snogging for about 45 minutes until her friends were leaving and yelling, "let the yank go!"

Eleven months to the day and I pulled a British girl. Who would have thought it could be so hard. I don't know if it was just dumb luck or if I figured something out. I honestly can't remember how I got to talking to this woman. I remember chatting with her friend, but don't remember the switch. Of course, when we meet up (later this week), I may be disappointed and realize that she's not actually that cute or something. But that's not really the point. The point is, I've been in England for 11 months, always wanting to meet British girls, and rarely, if ever, actually meeting one in a club or a pub, and never previously actually drawing interest. If I do nothing else while I remain here, I hope to understand why it's so damn hard to meet a Brit.

Saturday was a contrast in styles. I had not planned on going out, instead opting for a night at a pub with some mates. One of those, my Canadian friend (or "America Junior" as we like to call him) knows people at a club near where I live. He lives in the same neighborhood. It was a fairly easy sell. We won't pay at the door; if it's no good, we leave. The club, Opal, was kind of cool. The inside was designed to look like the inside of a cave, so all the walls were sloped and molded like caverns and what not. Of course, it should have been called "O - my it's effing hot in here - pal" but I guess that's nothing new really.

We were there for a while when my friend Eurotrash essentially dared me to go talk to this nice looking woman who was dancing with her friend. At this point, the only woman I had talked to turned out to be an American from Athens, GA, which of course caused a mental "For F*ck's Sake!" in my head as no matter how hard I try, I always seem to run into Americans. So I was game. Plus, I was pretty sure that Eurotrash thought I a) wouldn't do it and b) would totally strike out. But for whatever it's worth, the last year or so has taught me how to talk to a girl in a club, when to know when to stick around, and when to bail on a sinking ship, so to speak.

To I go up to this girl, we get chatting (she was Spanish), dancing and whatnot. Eurotrash can't believe it. The Canadian sends me a text, "nice pull". Everything is going great. Only one problem, this woman doesn't want to give me her number. She wants to "enjoy the night". At about 2:45 in the morning, after all my friends have left, I finally tell her that I think I'm going to go as it is quite late. She grabs her stuff to come with me. Now, maybe I'm completely insane (likely) but the last thing I want to do is shag some girl I just met at a club. It's creepy, it's degrading, and it just isn't me. So, when she goes off to check on her friend, telling me she'll be right back, I bail.

When I told my friends the next day they couldn't believe it. But the funny thing is, I think they would have done the same thing. They talk big game, but they have girlfriend's. They don't have to go out to clubs and try to meet nice girls (diamond's in the rough). Especially Eurotrash. He's said enough in private conversations with me that I get the idea that he would hate the club life for many of the same reasons that I hate it.

Anyway, this is truly a comparative tale. Funnily enough, I was talking Eurotrash earlier in the night (when it was just the two of us) and he made a quite insightful point. We were discussing why I was still single since I've obviously met a sufficient number of women to have found someone likeable enough. I argued that I hadn't found anyone that really did something for me. His point: I have met enough, it's time to chose one and see what can happen. I don't totally agree with him, but I think he has a point. I bailed on the Asian girl fast. I've bailed on the Italian girl even faster. There have been a dozen others that I've had chances with that I've turned away for a variety of legitimate or semi-legitimate reasons. It's not that I'm not meeting women, it's that I'm not allowing things to progress beyond a certain point. In fact, I think I have met someone who fits well into my criteria. It's someone that I initially discounted as young and immature and annoying. It's someone that I've gotten to know better since then and just realized last week that she's someone I'd like to spend time with, someone I think I could connect with. I'm talking about the Cliché.

I'd say it's time to toss the dice and see where they land.

Oh, and the other funny thing from Thursday. Real World got really drunk and (once again) started telling people she wanted to f*ck me. I thought we were past that phase. But apparently not. I hope her boyfriend doesn't find out. Fortunately, my strict policy of staying away from her when she's drinking paid dividends as I didn't have to deal with that for the 745th time.