This weekend was going to be a stay-in. Money a bit tight, spent way too much money already (last weekend), so I’ll just have whats left of my cheapy crappy wine and watch telly.
Marthas/227 in Portsmouth
At least, that was the plan. Having drunk the wine and a few beers, I convinced myself that I could pop into Marthas and it wouldn’t cost me much, as I was already drunk(ish), and entry to the upstairs bar on Fridays is free.
I got into the downstairs pub around 10.30 and found it to me REALLY quiet. On the plus side, easy to get served by the cute bar staff, but wouldn’t make for a good evening unless things pick up. Fortunately, they did within about twenty minutes or so. No-one either remotely interesting (aside from the forementioned bar staff) or interested in me, I think the main area seems to be outside in the smoking area. Sometimes I wish I hadn’t given up smoking – I feel too awkward to stand outside without a cigarette, but have no intention of smoking again (bad habit).
So, with little happening downstairs, and the bar closing for the night, I plodded upstairs to the 227 club. This place has changed quite a bit over the years from when it used to be One Above, but its nice not having to queue up outside.
I’d already drunk two bottles downstairs so by now I really starting to chill out. Just as well really, because I was feeling out of place. Not because I was soo old (I’m only 37) but because I felt like Billy-no-mates.
This is the fourth time I’ve been to Marthas in the last two months, twice with my younger brother (+bf) and once on my own own, which I really shouldn’t have bothered with (I was REALLY drunk). I enjoyed it more when I was with company, but chances of pulling are much reduced, at least for me anyway.
A group of three really nice blokes walked in and things got interesting from there. Big built guys, looking like Rugby players or something. My spider sense was tiggling warning me to watch out, as they could be trouble, especially as I’m only ever interested in straight guys (another reason I have real trouble pulling).
None of them showed much interest anyway at first, just sipping their pints. And I continued to look awkward and out of place when I went up for another drink. Some guy was really buzzing at something and next thing I know I was dancing with him on the podium/stage. I sware he was on something, not really interested in me but he certainly lightened my mood. Eventually he dissappeared (home maybe) and I sunk back to my routine.
The Rugby group (I don’t know they were Rugby players, but I’ll call them that anyway) had started dancing now, I guess the drink had kicked in. The Dark haired one (which I probably fancied second out of the three) had noticed me by now, and started dancing with me. He certainly wasn’t holding back either. I particularly enhjoyed his tongue down my throat towards the end, just before he started dancing with some girl (not sure what that was all about).
All along I was convinced he was just teasing me though, and never thought it would lead anywhere. So I was very surprised when he suggested going back with me. My God, this would have been the best sex I’d ever had. I knew this really wouldn’t be leading anyway, but didn’t care. Just one night of happy bliss.
So what happened? Whilst he was collecting his jacket, I left. DICK HEAD. I didn’t even get his name, hell I didn’t even say two words to him all night. But I think my mind just took over.
That’s not even the end of it. I stepped out onto the street and some guy started chatting to me, and next thing I know he’s asking to come back to my place. AGAIN, I declined. DICK HEAD. Although, I hadn’t seen him upstairs at all, he’s probably married and Bi, but he was cute and may NOT have been a serial killer.
And so, despite a great night out, I walked home alone. I’ll say it again, DICK HEAD!
