Not content with drunkenly lunging at #73 and #74, before that night at the Mission was over I’d latched on to a boy I’d seen there before, and the next thing I knew, I was heading to a flat on the Royal Mile with him and a bunch of goths. #61 had the keys to my flat for reasons which now escape me, so it seemed easier to just spend the night elsewhere.
#75 was in fact completely sober, and it always worries me in retrospect that any sober person could have the patience to be with me when I’m that wasted. I suddenly decided that he was the nicest boy in the world, and started asking him if he had a girlfriend. This episode is extremely hazy. It’s odd though, because I sure as hell hadn’t gone out that night looking for a relationship, but all of a sudden I thought it would be a great idea. This is an example of how alcohol makes you do things that are out of character.
The goths crashed out on some sofas and we were given a mattress in the corner. That’s where I woke up a few short hours later. #75 had scooted across the room to talk to somebody and I suddenly felt very, very sober. I struggled to put my top back on under the covers, and then excused myself and got the hell out. It was a rainy Sunday morning and I could’ve done with more layers. There was hardly anyone in the streets and I was walking home thinking it might be a good idea to dye my hair, and then maybe I wouldn’t be quite so conspicuous as That Girl Who Was A Drunken Nightmare at the Mission.
I didn’t dye my hair, but I avoided the Mission for a while. I saw #75 at the Egg a year or two later, at least I thought it was him, and I still felt mortified.