Sunday, 17 May 2009

It's Sunday, more bla...

I'm at Oxford Circus to change for the Bakerloo Line and I'm the last one there and I'm wandering around and the trains have gone and the station is empty.

Central London, Saturday night and feeling like shit. Upset and a little drunk.

When you've had a seriously crap day and then sealed it off by being rude to one of the nicest guys you've met in a long time - there's only one thing to do...

Make the next day even worse, which is what I do.

Why, oh why have I come to the Shadow Lounge? I just don't get it. I hate the place. Why am I here?

The place is dark and the music is awful. Why is the place so dark?

I turn down the offer of a drink.

I leave.

I wake up on the nightbus somewhere in fucking Wembley.

I get off, stumble around and wait for another nightbus in the opposite direction. This is because fucking cab-find-thing on the iPhone doesn't work.

Finally home. I know it's this time because I remember looking at the clock on my phone when I fell into bed.

I wake up and the rain is pouring outside and I feel like shit, physically and emotionally.

I phone Francois's phone to see if anyone answers it. It's disconnected.

I cannot believe that I actually thought he'd hidden it. And I can't believe I suggested it. I am such. a. fucking. idiot.

A text arrives from a friend. Their evening was obviously far more enjoyable than mine...

"Met a ...guy who escorted me to his house. He had a disturbingly big cock. I am not a size queen and I rarely divulge cock size but seriously. I was in shock. I still am."

(Apologies to You Know Who You Are that I've just shared that with most of the gays in London and around the world.)

I have to go to work. I am hungover and I haven't eaten. I realise I haven't been to gym since Thursday.

I am on the Central Line and we're leaving Oxford Circus heading towards White City. I'm standing in the area where the double-doors are.

There's a man standing in the opposite corner in a red T-shirt and black leather jacket. He is looking at me.

He's my height, black hair and I would say is middle 30s? He is tanned and it appears is quite worked out.

Every time I glance at him he's looking at me.

We arrive at Queensway and the tube doors open. He takes the two steps towards me...

"Hi, I really have never done this before but would you take great offence if I asked for your number?"

There is a pause. I go um.

"Oh my god, you're not gay, I'm so sorry..."

I tell him he's wrong. He pulls out his phone to take my digits, I burst into tears.

Hungover. Tired. Self esteem at zero. Still upset by the night before.

"Are you okay?"

"Sorry, I'm just really tired, I'm having a shit time but I'm really flattered."

I give him my number. He's South African, from Johannesburg. He works in HR. His name is David.

We chat.

He gets off at Holland Park.

I moaned the other day about people who wear sunglasses on the Tube. Days later I am doing exactly that.

I am standing alone in the bottom of the carriage. All of the nonsense from the last 24 hours decides to re-emerge to say hello.

That hammer attack. That amazing guy I insinuated was a liar. That fuck up I made about the phone. That guy at the Widow Lounge who I said no to. That fucking nightbus I fell asleep on.

It all comes out. Crying on the tube is so crap.

At work. Shit.

I e-mail Francois asking to see him again when he returns from Paris. I will be excited if he wants to but understand if he doesn't. I really hope he will.


I can't be bothered with his weekend any more.

New week, fresh start.


Jay said...

Aww cheer up dude, i know exactly how your feeling.Think about it - how do you know when your happy, if your not sad yeh?

It won't last forever, and your a amazing guy. He would be a fool to lose you.

If he don't reply, then we will go on a date! You just need to have some fun :-)

Ps....i love your radioboos, more please....makes my day listening to it!


Anonymous said...

You're overreacting. If he was mad he would have ignore you.
I think you like him more than what you admit.

Jake said...

Ahhhhhh Bobby I just think you are such a sweet guy, this sounds totally creepy-stalkerish but I wish you were my friend! I'd give you a massive hug and get you back on track.

Anyway, if you want to compare notes on awkward things to say to someone on a date, how about when I heard a song and stated loudly "I hate this fucking song, it does my head in" to which he replied "Hmm, it's what we played for my sister's funeral."

Now admittedly that one didn't have a happy ending but don't lose hope, haha!

wayne said...

Ah don't be beating yourself up Bobby. It's good to have an emotional episode every once in a while but please don't fret too much about Francois.

You seem like a cool guy and I'm sure he saw that. You WILL get a second shot at this and you WON'T say something silly like that again.


Bobby Cox said...

Jay: Okay let's go on a date. When, where?

Anon: Um.

Jake: We can be friends if you want. But only if you e-mail me a naked pictures of yourself.
This is a joke.
Stalk me all you like!

Wayne: I hope there is a second chance. I am trying not to fret about him.

W said...

your honesty about your neuroticism is sweet/ sad in these posts. No matter how many hours you spend in the gym it seems you'll always see yourself as the fat guy unworthy of people like Francois attention.

Franois is the chap on the magazine cover who you met on gaydar right? i may be wrong but that never sounded like something that would come to very much.

The chap on the tube sounds more interesting - if your thought he was hot i'd say it was deffinately worth persuing.

Now pull yourself together