This is the I Saw You ad I placed in The List.
♥ I Saw You #88 I pulled you @ Dichotomy but later on you didn’t feel right. Evidently this is because I was being a scary drunk but I like to think that you suddenly noticed the butt plug on the kitchen table and got a bit nervous. I can’t remember what you look like but I’m told you’re gorgeous.
I knew I hadn’t a hope in hell of hearing back from him, so I reckoned I should at least write an ad that people would read out loud to their friends.
It happened on #86‘s birthday night out. After I’d taken crap drunken photos of his friends looking at me with a mix of pity and resentment, I turned my attention to the dancefloor. It was almost closing time. #88 was dancing by himself in a cool, don’t-give-a-fuck way, and before I’d formulated a plan of action, I was by his side. What happened next? I don’t know. Did we dance together? Did I blag a cigarette? Did I say something earth-shatteringly cool? Presumably I at least spoke a few words to him before we started making out, but nothing can be certain.
A flash: walking back to mine, arms round each other as the rain began to fall. Passing by Surgeon’s Hall, I asked him his name for maybe the third time, by which point I detected a note of irritation in his voice.
Back at my place, I took him into the kitchen. #28, who was trying to sleep in the next room, heard me ask in my loud drunken voice, “Do you want some vodka? I mean, tea?” and then I burst into fits of laughter because it was the most hilarious slip I’d ever made. My other flatmate, a straight Canadian boy who’d once told me I had a lot of nervous energy, came through and met #88 for a moment and then returned to his room. And then #88 told me that he was really sorry, that I seemed nice and all, but that this didn’t feel right, and he’d better go.
So we said goodbye and that was it. It was good of him really, seeing as I was a complete shambles, but I had rather been hoping for some action.
“Who was that guy you took home last night?” said my straight Canadian flatmate the following morning. “He was gorgeous!”
“Damn,” I said.
“Who was that guy you got off with last night?” asked #86 when I ran into him in the street that afternoon. “He was gorgeous!”
“I don’t know,” I said sadly. Except right then I was on my way back to my flat with #85, who I’d just picked up by chance in a computer lab. So I didn’t have a whole lot of time to reflect.