How to lose a guy in 24 hours

Now, that I’m through with Ben, (the English teacher, remember?) because of his un-manly pasta-from-scratch-making ambition, and me being (apparently) not Buddhist- friendly, I am having a go at meeting men in a more traditional way. I go to a bar in Dalston.

It is great to be around real people again! Unlike having to stare at their profiles on internet, and coldly picking men that suit the fantasy of a relationship, this is a Russian roulette.

So, I’m here with my best friend Ella, who is great to go out with because we are truly compatible – she is a real opposite of me – decent, shy, non-ambitious, un-confrontational, funny yet quiet. Although occasionally we kind of swap – that’s the beauty of being non one dimensional women.

We drink cocktails because we think that beer smells, and it’s therefore not great if you are anticipating chatting to men.

The place is not yet packed; we are invited by the barman (which is quite unusual) to join a table with 3 other guys. I mumble ‘hi, thanks for letting us share, bla, bla’. They look delighted. Whatever, we exchange glances with Ella. We try to play it cool, even thought both of us have been way too busy to go out to ANY bar, for months.

The music is pretty good, the atmosphere very relaxed. It’s not glamorous at all, but it is cool and sexy. We decided to have a full on fun tonight, and agreed to bring men with us, back to Ella’s flat in Hackney. We even said, we would settle for one (and share) if worse came to worst…

Suddenly two guys from the other side of the table appear in front of us, and without asking, or even introducing themselves, say casually:

‘Hi. Are you Swedish?’

Simultaneously I say ‘Yes, we are’ and Ella ‘no, we are Polish’. Oh, God. She’s always like this: sweet and painfully honest. It is supposedly being just a start of playful conversation. Thankfully, they have not heard Ella’s reply (or pretended not to) and I continue with:

‘Yes, we are. You could tell by the size of our feet?’

We both are very tall, and that implies rather big feet. Guys look surprised and laugh out loud, inspecting our feet. The ice is broken, and we are now chatting in pairs. The shorter, dark-haired Chris talks to me about his media company and how he managed to once fire the other gay, Andy. I look at Andy, I like him – he’s tall, charming and very funny. I doubt he could ever deserve to be fired, and instinctively dislike Chris.

Ella reminds me that we’ve got to be in the other bar (‘Passing Clouds’) before 10pm, to get in for under £10. Andy doesn’t want to let us go, and holds us around shoulders, makes up rap music and we dance to it. We are all singing by now, and laugh at the lyrics we make up. And when I’m so close to Andy, I'm surprised at how good and natural it feels. Was that an attempt to kiss me? I wonder, when he brings himself even closer to me. The music changes, Ella turns away but Andy is still holding his arm around my neck. I quickly decide that it’s not the right thing to do – I move away. Andy says:

‘Did you know that the best place to find out a real smell of someone is at the back of their neck?’

He bowed his head to prove it. I touch his neck and inhale – I like his faint aroma of aftershave, mixed with some lemony smell, and maybe cigarettes. We stare at each other eyes, embarrassed.

Now in Passing Clouds. The bar is packed. There is a supposedly well-known SKA performer on the stage. Ella takes me upstairs, where the other bar is quiter, with a DJ and few sofas placed around. Hippy and sexy.

By the time we order drinks Andy and his mates are here. Wow, he is keen! We all sit down on sofas, Andy squeezes my hand secretly, while chatting to me and Ella. It is still unclear who he actually likes – me or Ella? They often go out for cigarette together, and giggle on the way back. But then now and again he suggests to Ella to go dancing. He then brings himself really close, and asks me questions about the kind of men I like.

I say I am not interested in relationships (although with him I probably wouldn’t mind to have a baby!). He tells me he is a journalist from Liverpool, but lives in north London, and works for the Sun paper, which I laugh at. He then dares to take a picture of me, (in front of Ella), saying I have beautiful eyes and that I look like a kitten... I must be drunk.

Few more drinks later Andy’s friends decide to leave. The music is now really loud. Andy brings the inevitable question (to both of us) - would we like to go to his place? Ella shouts that I’m staying in hers tonight, and that he is welcome to stay at hers too. He agrees and soon we take a taxi back to Ella’s, which Andy generously offers to pay for. Nice guy, I think.

Now in Ella’s flat, everything seems to go really quickly – Ella’s flatmate comes back from a party, and as they have a ‘history’, Ella whispers to me that she is going to spend a night in his room. I’m confused because there is only one room left,with one bed… and Andy is already there under the duvet! I close the door and I’m not brave enough to undress with the light on – he is a stranger after all, plus I have just come out of a long term relationship, and have no idea what to do in these kind of situations. Sensing my hesitation Andy jokes ‘c’mon, do a striptease’. I say ‘you wish’, switching off the light and undressing clumsily. ‘I have no pyjamas’ I state out laud and Andy offers me his purple cashmere jumper. I leave my panties on, naturally.

I slip under the cover; cold but with racing heart. He gently pulls me nearer whispering ‘come here’. We kiss. First time tonight. I don’t fight it.
I think I would have fainted if I wasn’t already lying down.

‘I need to tell you something’ says Andy suddenly. It wasn’t a whisper and for that reason it made me anxious. What is it that he needs to tell me at THIS moment?

‘I kissed Ella…When we were outside having a cigarette.’

I freeze, but I’m also surprised by how unaffected I am by this news. I think about something to say. I try to guess WHY he is telling me this now.

‘What would you like me to do? Go and get her from the other room?? We could swap? Or…’ I say slowly while making dramatic gestures. I realise he can’t see me.

‘No.’ he mutters. I could swear he lowers his eyes and blushes. It’s too dark to be sure.

‘Or... You are confessing, right?’ I dryly start a question, but the ending turns into a statement.

Without answering he sighs, turns towards me and kisses me softly. And I let him. We breathe faster, in the same rhythm. My hands are playing in his lush hair. He brings me on top of him, kisses me and tenderly pulls off his purple jumper from my, now hot, back.
…

To be continued