Hitting the town with Jo

Feeling slightly delicate this morning and very, very tired.

Last night Jo and I hit the town. First of all we went into a bar in the centre, I drank wine and she had some bottled thing, all terribly civilised and quite pleasant. Ended up chatting to an engineer and his golf pro friend – who was Belgian (the golf pro). It was okay but not the most stimulating of conversations…they asked if we were going clubbing later, Yes was our reply…When they heard which club (the biggest dive in town, but very entertaining and the music is good if the clientele isn’t) they told us to be careful – far too many men about….Erm…yes, that’s why we’re going…

Anyway, off we went to walk to the club. En route in the high street two rather young chaps were wrestling each other (dear god, this is beginning to sound like a bizarre dream I once had). I had drunk three large glasses of wine by this point, which for me means I’m pissed, and loud, and sometimes badly behaved. I told the wrestling boys to just get it over with and shag each other….Then they challenged me to an arm wrestle, which I did in the high street on a lidded bin – it was a draw, he won one and I won one (but to be fair I think he let me win). All the while Jo is looking on in slight horror – remember she’s been married a long time and she’s quiet and fairly reserved. Wrestling boys asked where we were off to and when we said the name of the dreaded dive they left us to it…they were off to the better club.

So, we finally get to the club, get drinks, I bump into a few old friends and then we hit the dance floor.

The usual people that go to this club fit into various simple catagories:-
1. Over thirty and either divorced or out looking
2. Out with a bunch of friends and up for a laugh, generally anywhere from 20-40
3. Squaddies from the local barracks looking for a laugh, a dance and an easy lay

Within seconds of being on the dance floor I was having an intimate sexual experience….I know I’d had a bit to drink, but I lost count of how many men (and maybe some women) fondled my ass. It’s a bit of a problem. And no one ever bothers to ask you if you want to dance, or for that matter even bothers to face you while dancing, instead you suddenly have a hand gripping your hip and hot tackle grinding into you from behind (sorry about the rather graphic image). A couple of the soldiers did this to me and it was a laugh – they’re young, fit and out for a dance, at the end of the track you move on. Sadly Jo and I had to keep moving around the dancefloor because we also seemed to be attracting odd types who were not dancing but just standing staring at us, from a foot away.

I wandered off in search of the loos – needed to go check my mobile and do my usual trick of sending rude messages. So I head up the stairs and am followed by a very large bald man who looked like a cartoon thug. At the top of the stairs he taps me on the shoulder, I turn around, and he says very politely to me, “Excuse me, but you have a lovely arse”. Just thought I share that with you…That and the texts I received last night made my evening.