Just Your Typical Saturday Night..

There I was, fully excited about a Saturday night I had been planning since Valentine 's  day disaster. Exactly 12 days after I popped the question 'Will you be my valentine?' and received no reply from Mr. B. Charlie, the man I had  already been dating for 3 months. A Saturday night with my girls that had become more and more needed as hours and days had passed and I still hadn't received any reply. 

Saturday was finally at my door, looking more debaucherous than ever, I was ready to unleash my inner disco beast. Those hours spent  shaving/plucking/waxing, picking out the right cloths, doing my hair and makeup could not go to waste!

7.15pm, text received from Laura:

Girl, forgot to tell you it's BYO at the Oh Yeah Center tonight!

A nightclub where you bring your own drink should have put a bug in my ear.  However there I was waiting for a taxi at 9.30pm; wearing a 70's dress and high heels; carrying a six pack of Stella Artois.

-To the Oh yeah Center please.

-Anything nice on tonight?

-A night of pure pleasure and debauchery..

The night had started. Two beers down and I was whipping my hair back and forth on the dance floor while trying to perform some Shakira hip moves. Surrounded by Irish chicken wing dancers, I was trying to stand out as the Latina girl. 'My hips don't lie' Shakira says. Mine were lying big time. I was an impostor pretending I was born this way, when it had taken a lot  of  time and practice in front of the mirror. 

Toilet. Massive queue. Wiggling and leg crossing. Checking mobile. Gasp!

Text from Mr. B. Charlie: 

I am so Sorry I haven't been in touch. I miss you. Please forgive me. 

Sitting on the toilet seat, I was now reading that message for the tenth time. Determined not to let Mr B. Charlie ruin my night, I pressed the delete button. A drink was much needed.  My phone vibrated again. It was a second text from Mr. B. Charlie. I miss you. Pressed the delete button once more. Made my way out of the toilet and went looking for my six pack in the middle of what looked like a cemetery of empty bottles. Unfortunately, my Stella Artois bottles were nowhere to be found, they had been drunk and buried. I looked around and I realized I was surrounded by smooching couples. My girlfriends were nowhere to be seen and my phone was now in a vibrating frenzy:

'I miss you so much'

'Forgive me please.'

'I miss everything about you.'

'So sorry I hurt you.'

'Please answer my message, it's killing me.'

...

It was 1 am. I was  sober. I had no drinks left. I had nobody to smooch. My ex was harassing me. The pounding music worked its way into my blood once more... I was back on the dance floor.


Just your typical Saturday Night..