Saturday, May 28, 2005

On Thursday night, I went to the Martini Festival party at BQ Bar. I hadn't intended to stay long, just long enough to grab the free martini promised me for registering, and then possibly another, before heading home to get some much-needed rest.

By the end of the night, not only had I gotten on to the open-air Hippo Bus that led to the after-party at Ink Bar and actually gone into the bar, as opposed to walking off to the bus-stop and catching a bus home, I had had 5 martinis (of which I paid for only two), including two Velvet Hammers one huge martini (750 ml) bought for us courtesy of the kind festival organiser, 42 Below Vodka.

If you're wondering what happened to make my plans change so drastically, there were two reasons:
  1. The organiser was rather cute.
  2. My girlfriends were there.
It's a given in almost any situation that whenever my girlfriends and I congregate, and there are copious amounts of alcohol, one of us will do something crazy. This time, because I was the one so obviously lusting after the organiser, I guess it was my turn. So instead of heading home after the party at BQ Bar ended at 10.45 pm, all of us got on the bus, and followed the organiser to the after-party, conveniently ignoring the fact that we were the only young local females there.

We managed to get ourselves much-coveted and comfortable sofa seats at the club, and my friends were trying to get me to chat to the organiser when we noticed a (substantially older) local woman who was talking to him too, even to the point of dragging him onto the dance floor to sexy dance with him, which he did, for like 20 seconds before he escaped and vamoosed to the bar. Heh. (Yes, I am very capable of being bitchy and exhibiting my claws when necessary.)

Anyway, to cut a long story short, after he had gotten one normal-sized martini and the big-a**ed martini, I did what one of my friends recommended (aside: asking for advice when there's more than one of your girlfriends around is a recipe for disaster; they all have different, conflicting approaches.) and just said, "Can I give you a call some time?" just before I left, to which he said, "Sure."

And then... on my way out, I walked into the glass door. Brilliant.

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