A few weeks ago it was my birthday. I turned something on either side of my mid twenties, and decided that I wanted to have a big celebration, and so it was all planned.
An early dinner with good friends who lived out of London, drinks at mine for 20+ guests before jumping into cabs that would take us to a nightclub where we could shake our tail feathers for the rest of the night.
Arriving at the restaurant at 6.30pm, I felt somewhat overdressed in my cleavage exposed, fitted red dress and a face full of 'evening' make up. A few glasses of wine later, I had opened my first (and best) presents of the night, and as we left the restaurant and headed back to mine, I was pleasantly tipsy.
At my flat, guests started steadily arriving, and while trying to be 'the hostess with the mostess' I was finding it hard to relax. I was trying to divide my time between everyone, and therefore felt as though I hadn't spent much time with anyone.
As the clock struck 11pm, the first taxi arrived, and as I bundled groups of people out, I realised that the friends I'd had dinner with had opted to take the long journey back to Oxford despite my protests. At least our mutual good looking friend, A, was staying...
Arriving at the club, I remember feeling really happy and as the barman handed me a free shot, the night began to get pretty hazy.
I got talking to a cute guy (although the conversation is pretty patchy in my mind, it started off well), and when we established that he worked in finance, I asked him whether he thought it was boring (fun fact: I happen to think that working in finance is incredibly boring). When he told me he found it interesting, I decided it was time to leave, and was intent on finding A. Mr Finance told me he'd be there waiting for me, but I knew I wouldn't go back. As I turned around, my friends were nowhere to be seen, and so I wobbled towards the dance floor to find them.
After two drunken circles around the club, my efforts were in vain, and as I stumbled into the toilets, luckily my friend came out of the cubicle. I asked her where A was. She said that she thought he'd been getting on rather famously with her friend, and I decided to find them and see for myself.
They didn't look too close to me, so I decided to step in (it was my birthday after all). Within the next half an hour, my two friends left, and I decided I'd had enough, and wanted to go home.
The intention was never really for anything to happen with A, but back at home, one thing led to another...twice. In the morning, we got up and went to go get some coffee in an attempt to stop the world from spinning. Over a strong cappuccino, we decided that nothing more would happen, and it got me thinking... A was very handsome, very smart, had a great job and would no doubt make a very good boyfriend (in the bedroom department at least), but he lacked in charisma, wasn't charming and wasn't funny.
I realised then, that actually none of it matters.... All I really want is for a guy to make me laugh, and if he looks like Johnny Depp...Well then that's a bonus.
An early dinner with good friends who lived out of London, drinks at mine for 20+ guests before jumping into cabs that would take us to a nightclub where we could shake our tail feathers for the rest of the night.
Arriving at the restaurant at 6.30pm, I felt somewhat overdressed in my cleavage exposed, fitted red dress and a face full of 'evening' make up. A few glasses of wine later, I had opened my first (and best) presents of the night, and as we left the restaurant and headed back to mine, I was pleasantly tipsy.
At my flat, guests started steadily arriving, and while trying to be 'the hostess with the mostess' I was finding it hard to relax. I was trying to divide my time between everyone, and therefore felt as though I hadn't spent much time with anyone.
As the clock struck 11pm, the first taxi arrived, and as I bundled groups of people out, I realised that the friends I'd had dinner with had opted to take the long journey back to Oxford despite my protests. At least our mutual good looking friend, A, was staying...
Arriving at the club, I remember feeling really happy and as the barman handed me a free shot, the night began to get pretty hazy.
I got talking to a cute guy (although the conversation is pretty patchy in my mind, it started off well), and when we established that he worked in finance, I asked him whether he thought it was boring (fun fact: I happen to think that working in finance is incredibly boring). When he told me he found it interesting, I decided it was time to leave, and was intent on finding A. Mr Finance told me he'd be there waiting for me, but I knew I wouldn't go back. As I turned around, my friends were nowhere to be seen, and so I wobbled towards the dance floor to find them.
After two drunken circles around the club, my efforts were in vain, and as I stumbled into the toilets, luckily my friend came out of the cubicle. I asked her where A was. She said that she thought he'd been getting on rather famously with her friend, and I decided to find them and see for myself.
They didn't look too close to me, so I decided to step in (it was my birthday after all). Within the next half an hour, my two friends left, and I decided I'd had enough, and wanted to go home.
The intention was never really for anything to happen with A, but back at home, one thing led to another...twice. In the morning, we got up and went to go get some coffee in an attempt to stop the world from spinning. Over a strong cappuccino, we decided that nothing more would happen, and it got me thinking... A was very handsome, very smart, had a great job and would no doubt make a very good boyfriend (in the bedroom department at least), but he lacked in charisma, wasn't charming and wasn't funny.
I realised then, that actually none of it matters.... All I really want is for a guy to make me laugh, and if he looks like Johnny Depp...Well then that's a bonus.
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