I went out on Friday night for a much-needed bit of fun.  There was only three of us and we started out with some nice pink fizz in our favourite city bar Corny and Barrow! Having stayed in for the last few weekends we were chomping at the bit. After quite a few glasses we headed out into the night to try to find our way to The Amber Bar, which was walking distance. To our amazement we actually found it with no problems and in we went down the steps and straight to the bar to get the shots lined up.  The place was banging and enjoying the music we started dancing.

The bar is split into two areas. One for up to date music and one for ‘seventies’ sounds.  We started in one before dancing our way to the other.  Inevitably I end up dancing with a couple of random guys and it was all good fun.  One guy was on my case big time and trying to engage me in conversation.  He had a bit of an accent and I could only make out the odd word..hot…followed by him looking me up and down and mumbling something under his breath.  He then grabbed me while still talking and as I struggled to hear what he was saying,  he tried to kiss me.

Now kissing is an art form all on its own and as I have said before if it works well then it usually follows that everything will have you buzzing.  Sometimes the meeting of mouths is also a meeting of minds and sometimes there is a pure chemical reaction.  Well any of the aforementioned would have been good but as his mouth met mine all I could think of was a wet fish..probably a guppy.  He had all the technique of a kiss from a labarador,  totally wet, mouth over wide and much too enthusiasm…Yuk.. His skin felt clammy..not unusual considering the dancing and the heat inside the club but it was so tentative and sloppy It was all I could do not to wipe my arm across my mouth as I extricated myself from his limp grip

Trying to dance away I headed in the other direction only to have him stand in front of me again gyrating his hips..VERY attractive!!!. I legged it into the toilet and smiling broadly at the attendant lady I went for a wee.  As I sat there I was again wondering what the purpose of the attendant lady was ?.  Nearly every club has one these days and they imply that us girls are incapable of washing our hands by ourselves and then actually finding something to wipe them dry on. The ladies are often equipped with hair brushes and perfume,  hairspray and hand cream..and if they give  you so much as a square of tissue or even point you in the direction of an empty loo (cos we are useless at directions without our  ‘Satnavs’  or should I say ‘ Satlavs’  ha ).  That little plate they have is expected to be chinking with gold coins by the end of the evening.

I like the toilet attendant lady and hope they get well paid for spending all night in a small smelly area directing drunken girls. Although I do wonder about the merits of giving away lollipops that have spent all night in a toilet.

I mean do the men have a toilet attendant guy ? No of course they don’t ? they just whack it out,  pee and leave and rarely wash their hands if I’m any judge.  I suspect that the attendant lady is there to prevent drug use behind closed doors or couples sneaking in for a quick one. What a spoil sport.  Whilst I am in the toilet I get a text from the giant I live with informing me that he is thinking of buying some fish. back to the guppy again!!. Fish ? Fish ? why on earth he needs to tell me this in the early hours of a Saturday morning when I’ m out getting on it I have no idea. But without realising it I have shouted the word fish out loudly and as I leave the cubicle the toilet attendant lady gives me a quizzical look, I think she thought a random goldfish had swam up the u-bend.  I find myself explaining and borrowing some perfume and then leaving her a nice shiny gold coin.

Back into the club and more dancing and I get chatting to a nice guy all suited and booted and very sweet. He had a nice face but was little vertically challenged but no matter he spoke the Queen’s English and was quite amusing.  So in between dancing madly and chatting to friends we engage in deep and meaningful conversation..I jest of course.  He takes me by the hand and we go to a seat and I think I made a joke about being the same height once seated..oops.  He then lunges at me for a kiss and proceeds to flick his tongue all over my mouth..he reminds me of a lizard..for gods sake!! I must be attracting all of the  “unable to kiss for toffee”  brigade tonight.  I pull back and try to get some sort of control on his rotating lips to see if I can turn this slobbering into something remotely resembling passion. No chance ! there is no escape from the lizard tongue.  I get up and leave him sitting there.

He is undeterred and finds me again and offers to buy me a drink I decline smiling sweetly.  The smiling was a mistake ! he takes this as a sign that I require more attention from the lizard!!!  I bluntly tell him that he cannot kiss pushing him away and rush off to see the nice toilet attendant lady again.

I like kissing, it’s an important indicator of whether passion and chemistry will follow and usually foolproof.  Perhaps I was just unlucky Friday night and encountered more frogs than princes.  Maybe we should find a bigger pond to swim in and next time I’m wearing my wet suit.


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