*of course* I cocktailed!

wow. that was ages ago. Lots has happened since then. Christmas. New Years. But most notably...

I got laid.

and... wait for it.... yes... REMEMBERED IT!!!

oh fraptious joy! Mother would be so proud ;)

Having gone out the night before and with a big Saturday night planned, I agreed to traipse out to the local favourite bar and give the man-talent a once over, sample the cocktail list which had - through some minor miracle - escaped my notice on previous visits. Suffering the flu still, I told my fabulous friend that it was only going to be a quick trip out and I wanted to bed by midnight.

midnight. 5am. Who's counting? I certainly wasn't - I was madly pleasantly drunk and had a nice boy with me.

So fabulous friend and I starting playing spot-the-hottie (simple rules - any man who you rate 7/10 or above must be pointed out and score mentioned) and I looked over with a "oooh 7over there!" Fabulous friend encouraged me to talk to him, but I was (massively unusually) stuck for words. So she leaned over with a cheery "Hello!"

damn. why didn't I think of that?

So they got chatting and he introduced his mate, bought us more cocktails, and I was convinced he fancied my fabulous friend - and rightly so, she is gorgeous and does pull boys effortlessly and frequently. So the three of us ended up dancing til the club shut, then Mr 7 convinced us to go to the dodgy dance club round the corner, paid the completely unjustifiable covercharge, and then we danced til that club was just about to shut too. Nothing develops between Mr 7 and my friend, and walking to the bus stop I can agree he can crash at mine but shouldn't expect a shag.

I should mention that by this stage I am in the throes of stupid drunkeness. At home he ends up doing star jumps in my loungeroom after losing the challenge of spelling my name correctly. yes. star jumps. as you do. I like that memory. I quite like the boy because of that memory. (Okay, the nice body, olive skin, clean sandy hair and gorgeous deep voice do somewhat contribute)

So we crawl into bed - me with a scrubbed face and daggy PJs, still drunk... and then we shag. Dunno how exactly how that happened, but he had been trying to convince me he'd fancied me the whole night (yes skeptical - only after he knew he'd be crashing at mine) but it was fun.

Still hadn't slept when my alarm went off - signifying that it's 10am and reminding me that I have til 12 to get to the bloody post office and post my Dad's xmas pressies.

My friend's think it's hilarious that I kicked a perfectly good man out of my bed so that I could get to the post office. I don't know what I was thinking. He didn't want to go and kept pulling me in for hugs, kissing the top of my head, all very intimate and cosy - love an affectionate man.

He asked for my number and I gave it to him and he double checked it with me, I do remember looking at it and doubting it for a second (you can guess how this ends now, can't you?) and I joked about giving him a fake number... and then he kissed me goodbye and left

so yes... I haven't heard from him

He has either:

a) got the wrong number
b) died
c) gone on holiday to the Island of Lost Men
d) all of the above