A night out

So, I went out last night. The plan was to go and have a beer with a friend who was having a birthday. But when I got there, he wasn’t there. He had gone for food, and would be back later. So instead I sat and had a beer with a few other people, including a girl who I had met once before. At that time she seemed pretty interested, but I wasn’t, having a girlfriend and all. Last night she again seemed pretty interested. So I had another beer, then another, and a few more. Eventually she went home, but I stayed with other people, and had a few more beers.

I should mention that I am afflicted with LastManStandingitis, that terrible disease that means I simply do not go home until everything is closed, all the alcohol is finished, and everyone else is under the table. The only two other options are that I pass out in the attempt (seldom happens, but it isn’t unknown) or that I head home with/to a beautiful girl. Having just broken the heart of the beautiful girl I live with, I wasn’t going home to her. So I kept drinking, with a few different people. Eventually this included a girl who’s birthday is today, and by that time it was, of course, today. So we went for a few celebratory drinks. We talked about all kinds of things, ranging from the cost of university degrees to the wonders of German bathrooms, which she believes all come equipped with a bath made for two (they don’t). Then her friends left. We went to another bar, and then my friends left. I walked her home, having been offered some good Californian Pinot Noir. We got to her house. She was out of wine, so we lay down on the bed and talked some more. Then she leapt up, announcing that she smelled of smoke and there was only one solution. She went into the bathroom, and I heard the shower start up. I lay there, considering my walk home. Then she walked back into the room. She was fully dressed and dry. I could still hear the shower. It wasn’t the shower.
“Is that your bath I can hear?”
“It is.”
“The one built for two?”
“Yes, the one built for two. Are you coming?”

So I ended up in the bath with a girl I had just met. It was a wonderful bath, made for two. I wish all German bathrooms had one.

We didn’t have sex. We did sleep together. She didn’t really seem to want to have sex. I probably would have, if she had wanted to though. I don’t know what that means about me as a person. Maybe just that I am totally and utterly shallow and fickle. Maybe just that it has been over a month since I had any sex and I have a higher sex drive than that.

When we woke up, I got dressed, we both said thanks for a fun night, and I left. I doubt I will ever see her again. That is not a problem for me, although she was fun.

Maybe it doesn’t mean anything. I feel a bit bad about it though, so I thought I would write it down.

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