Two anecdotes about clubs…

In order to maintain the record of the week, I decided that I should go drinking directly after work last night. And (I suppose inevitably) this resulted in a few of us ending up at Popstarz. Which led to:


Anecdote One:
  As I wander through the passages of the Scala, I keep passing this bloke who looks vaguely familar. And he keeps making ‘knowing’ looks in my direction. I will be completely honest and say that as he wasn’t really my type, I decided to have a ponder, but not launch into a conversation that might be misconstrued as flirting.
  Anyway, after a couple of hours of this kind of behaviour, we find each other wandering towards each other in a corridor. There’s no real reason to avoid chatting, so I turn and say to him:
  “I’m really sorry – but you look really familiar, have we met?”
  “Yes”, he replies, “I fell over in front of you twice while clubbing at the old Popstarz about four months ago…”
  I look slightly dumbfounded, and don’t really know what to say. He glances down at my favourite t-shirt of the moment, a dark blue A&F thing, and continues:
  “At the time I was really embarrassed, but now you are wearing that stupid t-shirt, I feel a lot better. I hope to hell you are being ironic.”
  And then he walks off.

Anecdote Two:
  As I wander through the passages of the Scala, I find myself running into this other guy who looks both familiar and rather devilishly attractive. After my experiences with the nasty t-shirt hater, I am a bit sceptical of wandering up to strangers, and so I leave it – particularly when it becomes clear that he doesn’t have the slightest clue who I am either.
  As it approaches 3am, however, it suddenly hits me – this is a guy that I met (once) around a year ago when I visited a friend in Cambridge. I must have spent no more than four hours in his company.
  Slightly sceptical of my realisation, I wander up to him, and indeed – it is he. We chat for a while and then wander off back to our respective friends. At which point my friends (Rhonda, Evil Nick et al) decide that it is beyond necessary that I flirt with him. The young gentleman listens manfully to my abortive attempts to demonstrate my interest with a light smile, while I slowly turn an inelegant purple. And then, with a look of mild exasperation, he pounces…