Foreplay With No Follow Up. Oh, Wait..

I did something stupid tonight.

Well, I did something stupid about a half hour ago, and I'm probably going to do something stupid again within the next few hours..and possibly again in the morning..

So I went for afternoon drinks with the girls tonight (Charolastra No.1 and Pickled Lily), where we played cards in the sweltering heat, drank several pitchers of cocktails, and talked very loudly about men and sex for the majority of the night. We originally met to celebrate me signing the promoter's contract at a club, with a subtext of checking out a fit bartender I remember working at this pub. Who, it turns out, is the manager. And who spent the night doing sexy eye contact with me. And don't get me wrong, I am the world's biggest eye-contact-flirting fan, to me there is nothing sexier - but it's just such deja-vu. The pub where I met The Cats (our pub), had a manager who I had sexy eye-contact-flirting with for at least a year, and believe me - as much of a turn on, there is absolutely no payoff. It's like foreplay, with no follow up. Massively unsatisfying.

So, this yummy bar manager and I eyed each other up and went through the sexy "stolen glances" flirt all night, which got me massively in the mood, but as experience has taught me - no pay off. So I left the girls, went home, and got a text from Weller (Charlie Brown's flatmate, one of The Cats, who I've always had a bit of a crush on, but he's had a girlfriend for the last few years - who I love. They broke up a few months ago, and he's quietly heartbroken. We went out last week, all of us, and we had a sneaky snog at stupid o clock in the morning, but nothing's been said since.)

I got his text at about midnight, while I was on the bus home from Camden. Bearing in mind (just to quickly attempt to justify my behaviour) by this point I'd had several cocktails, several different spirits, on an empty stomach - and Hotty McBarman had been turning me on slowly all night..

"Hey you, just watching telly in my room and Peep Show came on so I thought of you. Any chance you're around The Vale and fancy watching it with me? x"

So, put very simply, this is how I ended up in Weller's bed, at 1 in the morning, with no clothes on, smoking a post-coital cigarette and typing this while he sleeps next to me, with his arm sloppily wrapped around my waist. I'm quite happily tipsy, so I'm not feeling any guilt at this point, but I know it will come.. especially because I am so very aware that Charlie Brown is asleep next door.

But before the guilt starts to kick in, I'm going to go and wake Weller up for round 2. Well, after I text Charolastra No.1, and maybe raid the drinks cabinet and make myself a little whiskey smooth. Fuck it, lets make it a double.