From #201 and #202‘s flat, I presumably staggered to the city centre via the Meadows. (I have a policy of not crossing the Meadows on my own at night, not since the time I nearly walked into an ambush, but I guess I was drunk enough to think I could handle anything. Um, great.)
I was heading to a party upstairs from the one where I’d met #199 three weeks previously; he and I had gotten off outside the door. This time round I locked myself in the bathroom with #203 and there was applause when we finally emerged. I also have a flash of being with her in a dark bedroom. She’d never kissed a woman before and I’d offered to help. “#203 is in love with you,” #184 had pronounced dramatically the week before, after I’d introduced the pair of them to Frenchie’s. I’d assumed at the time that this meant platonic straight-girl love, but maybe it was more of the bi-curious variety.
Whatever: it didn’t exactly go according to plan. The next time I saw her, at a bar several weeks later, she only stuck around for half an hour, and avoided the hell out of me. #184 explained that she had some Issues, that it wasn’t about me, it was about her. So it didn’t bother me, but I was sorry that she felt weird. My strategy was to keep out of her way until such time as she felt comfortable with me. It was a couple more months before I saw her again, at the flat where I’d met #199, and I initially kept my distance, but she came right over and started chatting to me and normality was restored.