I went to a farewell do for one of my friend’s leaving to live in Australia last night. The do was held at Ex S’ house. Or his parents house, to be more specific.
I did not want to go, but in the events that make up my life, best I force myself to go and be merry. Even if the room is filled with people that are Ex S's friends.
I bought a bottle of wine, unclogged the drain in the bath – it was disgusting, but that said, plungers are great toys with which to, um, plunge – and headed off to Bryanston filled with dread.
All our 'mutual' friends were present. Including his brother who has just had a kid. Who would’ve been my niece, had things gone according to the plan. His wife then gaily told me she’d dated Cute UnShaven Guy briefly while living in London. (Oh but of course. Without inter-circle shagging, the situation wouldn't be believable. That said: this is perpostuous.) I just cannot get away from people that know and boof other people.
The party was somewhat dull; nice snacks though. I departed after my third glass of wine, because I was sick of baby talk, and all the couples were always seeming to be calling each other 'babe' and 'sweetie' and plating kisses on each other's foreheads and I actually just wanted to slap all of them and tell them to grow the fuck up.
I came home hammered and emotional. Also because Ex S is going on holiday to Germany and Sweden for three weeks, in reckless abandon to pull Swedish poenani, and eat Viking food. Bastard.
And now the the bloody date tonight. Cute UnShaven has yet to give me directions to his house. (For that’s where I am going. A dinner party held at his pad.) This is worrying.
My best underwear in hanging on the clothes line. Not that I’d need it since I’m officially a virgin again. (Just over two months since last shag.)
I’m panicking and therein breaking into an unsightly sweat.