More than Average Joe

I went clubbing recently, with my new Gal Pals, and I met a nice guy on the dance floor.

These are the girls I met on a Facebook group for girls who like the same music as me.

One is a teacher from France who seems vivacious and slightly crazy, and the other is a Northern midwife.

I can’t remember how me and this guy started talking. It was after 1am and I was quite tired and smashed. 

For some reason I had decided not to put my expensive new purple leather jacket in the cloakroom. 

After dancing with it clutched protectively to my chest for a while, I put it down on a chair by the dance floor. I then danced next to it but nervously whipped around at least once a minute, to check my jacket was still OK, like it was a sleeping newborn I was babysitting.

On reflection, I don’t think the £2 cloakroom fee I saved was worth it, but you can’t argue with drunk logic. (Since then I’ve left it on a plane in Switzerland and a bus in France, and both times amazingly managed to get it back.)

Besides the jacket-guarding stress, I was having to contend with annoying guys coming up every few minutes and commenting on how miserable I looked.

I don’t think I have a full ‘bitchy resting face’, but my neutral face looks a bit sad. Then, when I’m on a night out and they play a few songs in a row which I don’t like, it makes me feel disproportionately annoyed. I stand around on the dance floor looking mournful, and then men come and give me helpful advice about cheering up.

Somehow, in the midst of this, a guy came started a conversation that didn’t annoy me, but I can’t remember what he said. Maybe we made eye contact and smiled, and then a song came on which I liked, and my enthusiasm suddenly returned.

I remember we chatted about music, and both really liked the same things. I remember talking about our jobs. I said a bit about being a therapist, which he seemed to find impressive. 

He then said “I don’t want to tell you what I do now!”, making me expect he did something underwhelming, but he was actually a solicitor, which I found quite cool.

I don’t remember much about our conversation, but I know it was really fun and it felt like we really clicked.

After chatting for a while, we kissed. He was an exceptionally good kisser. 

“That was really good!” I said 

“Yeah, I don’t know why we’ve stopped.” He said.

I feel like I said something clever in response, but I can’t remember what it was. We kissed a bit more, then I remembered the girl I was with was on her own. The French lady had already left, so it was just me and the Northern midwife.

I looked over and saw she was talking to a group of boys herself.

I vaguely remember him saying I smelt good.

I asked his age, which was 30. I said mine (early 30s) and he seemed surprised. “I thought you were in your 20s you’d think I was too old!”

Soon my friend and I agreed it was time to go.

He seemed really dismayed, when I said goodbye. 

“But I’ll never see you again!” He said.

“It’s ok, we’ll exchange numbers!” I said. We got our phones out.

I gave him my number, and he gave me a missed call, so I had his. This time, I immediately checked it had gone through (so I didn’t get a repeat of my previous phone mishaps).

Even this didn’t seem to cheer him up about me leaving.

Then I said something like “the sex is always better when there’s more anticipation!”

It was about 4am when I was about to go to sleep, on sofa cushions on the northern midwife’s living room floor.

My flatmate, Joe, texed me to check I was still alive as I hadn’t come home. He seemed a bit concerned about the safety credentials of my new friend.

Then my phone chirped again. It was the boy from the club. “Hello gorgeous, how are you?”

I hadn’t put him in phone book yet.

I went to ‘Create New Contact’, and thought shit, what was his name?

I felt like it was something like “John”. 

I saved him my phone as “John?”.

In the morning, I left my friend’s house at about 10am.

About 30 seconds after I closed her front door, I felt the sun on my back and realised I’d left my jacket inside. I rang her doorbell, and scurried back inside to get it.

I walked a long way to the tube, so I could get a cup of tea on the way.

I thought about John? from last night and smiled.

Suddenly, a memory popped into my head.

Oh my god, it’s not John, it’s Joe!

I remembered him telling me his name, and me saying “Oh, same as my flatmate!”

I texted him back “Hello, last night was good, wasn’t it!”

6 thoughts on “More than Average Joe

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