Flying solo

It's raining men!

My friend and I were invited to a party. It was in a restaurant in Chichester (a place I'd never been to) and was a party for all the staff of three restaurants, and my friend and I who weren't staff but like a good party. We made a fairly last minute decision to go. The weather was filthy, gale force winds, rain making my hair frizz, the type of evening when one should stay in, and not venture out. But we did. We reluctantly got ready and braved the elements.
The evening didn't start out well. Not just the weather but the bus was late, then on the train there was a horrible boy who spat at the guard and swore that he was going to 'kick 'im in.' I was a bit scared to be honest.
We were greeted at the party by a guy on stilts and a fire juggler. Inside there was candy floss, vodka slush puppies, hot dogs and lots and lots of men. And all of a sudden, drinks in hand the evening became just like the song (it's raining men).
Man number one, Skaterboy. Looked about eighteen, swore he was twenty. I was doing my best not to be ageist but he told me I was 'well fit' and spilled raspberry slush puppy on my foot, so he really didn't stand a chance.
We went to dance and as soon as I got onto the dance floor I was grabbed by a guy who started spinning me around. We danced for ages, and he tried to get me to 'go outside' with him. For what? I asked, as innocently as I could and excused myself to go and get another drink.
There were men everywhere we went. One guy insisted on buying me a drink, when there was an open bar, but still expected me to be grateful. Dance floor guy came and found me and took me back to the dance floor where at one point, I was in the middle of a circle of men. Do not ask me how that happened. One minute I'm being flung around, the next I'm literally surrounded. My friend said that she saw this group of guys on the dance floor having what looked like a group hug and when they parted, there was me in the middle, flinging my arms around like a mad woman. I can guarantee there was no groping.
Then I met Polish guy who kept insisting on speaking to me in his native language although I had no concept of what he was saying. And when I told him I didn't understand, it made no difference. I am thinking it might have been rude though. Or of course he could have just been explaining the merits of nuclear power…
The men kept coming. My friend said that every time she came to find me I was chatting to yet another man. What is a girl to do?
There was a guy from Bristol with a lovely West Country accent, which almost melted my heart. Not only does it remind me of home but I find it vaguely erotic although perhaps that's not something I should admit to here. We chatted for what seemed like ages; he was something to do with tarmac, although for the life of me I couldn't work out what. But then he took a preemptive strike, moved in for a kiss which would have been fine had he not immediately tried to get me to go home with him. Well, I told him that there was no way, as I barely knew him but then he became quite insistent. My friend had to come to my rescue and we later discovered that no one knew who he was, he was a gatecrasher. Oh well, time to move on. But I did like his accent.
My friend wanted me to chat up the stilt man. So, being easily talked into anything, I did. He magnificently managed to bend down to my level, and we had a chat about stilts really, (I had had a few too many vodka slush puppies to be truly inventive with my conversation), he was French, and quite cute, but he was working. Later, sans stilts he came to chat to me and my friend. After five minutes the French accent went and he admitted he was from Camden Town. Didn't hold the same appeal somehow.
As the numbers started to dwindle, some people suggested going to the local nightclub. This cute guy was trying to persuade me and when everyone said that yes, they'd go, I found myself getting in a cab with said cute guy and my friends. We got to the club, which bizarrely seemed to be in a hut in a field, only to discover it was too late to go in, so we headed back. A twenty-five pound taxi drive later and I decided I quite liked cute boy. So, when we got back to the party, which was really only a small gathering by now, we sat outside, smoking and chatting.
He worked there, but I can't quite remember what he did. Maybe a chef or something, (that might be wishful thinking from someone who can barely boil an egg). He lived locally, was amusing, liked fishing, (but I decided not to think about that) was six foot and was twenty four whole years old. But, I did not have my usual panic and run off at this point, no I stayed put. We talked for a while, and then it was time to leave, although he suggested I stay with him, I said no but I would give him my number. We had a little kiss and then I left with my friends.
The next day we laughed about the plethora of men, and were certainly not complaining. All the guys I met were single and straight if nothing else. And cute guy sent me a text in the morning, asking how I was. And, amazingly later that same day he actually called me. I have to say, after moaning that men don't call anymore I was so shocked I almost didn't answer the phone. Then I panicked because it had been so long since a guy I didn't know called me. But I did answer and we had a long chat and due to his work and mine, we are meeting up in a couple of weeks.
So, there you go. I found the single, straight men after all, they're all in Chichester. But I still haven't found the grown-ups, but then you can't have everything can you?

copyright 2007 Faith Bleasdale, all rights reserved.

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