Not for Sensitive Viewers

And now for the full scoop.

On Saturday R had to briefly attend a work function so I opted out of that engagement (for obvious reasons) and decided to meet him afterwards at his friends birthday bash at a club. Thank God I was on the guest list and therefore able to push my way to the front of the queue. I have no qualms paying for the pleasure of my partying, but I abhor queuing. For anything.

R and I headed straight for the bar and my first poison was a R28 vodka, lime and lemonade. I almost sprayed the barmen with R6 worth of said drink when he told me the price. Gawd, when did drinks get so expensive? (We were not in Sandton). Luckily I was with a gentleman and R took care of the tab. And the next tab. And the next tab. And the next …

I was unusually subdued during my first drink, surveying my surroundings, meeting R’s friends, one of whom I’ve already had the pleasure of meeting. C, a pilot, recently had a near death experience so it was good to see him alive and kicking after being surviving an aeroplane crash and being submerged under water.

During drink two (500ml of vodka and red bull) the DJ played my 2006 theme song “Crazy” and that was all it took to get my dancing shoes on, R pulled me up and we set the dance floor on fire. I did not sit down again until just before we eventually left at about 02h00. When R was tired, C joined me and when he was tired, there was a multitude of men and women willing to make merry with me!

During the course of the evening C had a revelation that he felt he just had to share with me.

“You should hook up with R.”
“Why would I do that, he’s my buddy?”
“Yeah, but he’s really into and you’d have fun together”
“Oh. Well I’m not looking for fun, I’m looking for husband”
“You’re too young to be settling down”
“*choke* C, I’m almost 34 years old! I’m 8 years older than R!”
“No shit! I thought you were his age”

Whilst I was flattered at his faux pas; I did neglect to tell him about my lustful infatuation with M. R obviously hasn’t cottoned on to this fact, just as I had no idea for his feelings for me, so best for sleeping dogs to remain sedated.

At about 02h00, after drinking more than 2l of my new tipple of choice; the crew decided to head on to another club further north in the region.

“Oh hell no!” Said one drunken me. “I live in the opposite direction, so you guys head on out without me.”

And at that moment I realised that I had driven to the club; and therefore had a vehicle parked downstairs. And furthermore, being the law-abiding moral upstanding smart person that I am; I knew that I was in no state to operate heavy machinery or drive a car. R immediately came to the same conclusion and insisted on parking my car in a safe place (the corner Engen garage) and then driving me home.

Warning: not for sensitive viewers

Half way home I had my appointment with the pavement along Johannesburg Road. I calmly told R to pull over and then fumbled for the damn handle to open the door. I could not find the daft thing, so R leaned over, and opened the door for me; and with that my Stan (from South Park) impersonation began. I did not even undo my seatbelt, let alone get out of the car. From my very comfortable position within the vehicle I was able to dispose of my Spur nachos, carrots (I have never eaten carrots, so where did they come from???) and my V&RB. Inbetween chunks, groans and almost tears, I apologised profusely to R for my … er little scene and told him that I was going to avoid him for at least a week to recover from my embarrassment. He just rubbed my back in moral support and uttered countless “S’ok, you’ll be fine”.

I don’t remember much more about the ride home, so it must’ve been uneventful. Soon R was parked in my parking bay and helping me out of the car. I mumbled more apologies, waved off any further assistance and ran walked sauntered strolled stumbled to my front door.

And to think I woke up at 08h00 on Sunday morning sans a hangover!