Friday night had to be a good one
In some strange celebration of the night that was yet to be, I finished most of a bottle of red wine with my meal. Never a clever thing to do but sometimes these things happen.
Just before I left the flat, D rang to find out what I'd be doing. I didn't really feel like seeing him right away so I made some excuses but told him I'd be out and about much later on and that he should contact me then if he still wanted to meet up. I met A at the Lord Roberts and we had a few pints of Stella before Mike arrived, quite a bit earlier than expected.
We eventually went to the club.
I remember arriving there and I remember spending time talking to Mike and A. I also remember talking to several other friends but there's a huge chunk of the night that's a complete blank. Although I later discovered that the smarties weren't very strong, 'double-dropping' them on top of all that alcohol had a predictable effect.
I don't remember leaving the club.
So waking up at about 10 the next morning with my arm around a man was all a bit of a surprise. He was turned away from me so I couldn't see his face which would have helped the recollection process. I must have met up with D after all.
Being horny, I began to run my hand over him.
He stirred slightly but there wasn't much life in him. My befuddled brain noticed something was different - he didn't feel as lean and defined as I was used to. My hand went lower and before long there was life in his groin even if none anywhere else. That's odd, he feels smaller than I remember. Not massively smaller but definitely smaller! Jeez, my brain is playing tricks on me! Or maybe it played tricks on me before?
Although very eager for it, I gave up trying to get a proper response from him. I carried on lying there with my arm around him thinking about how one's brain is an odd, deceitful organ. I kept trying to remember when I'd met up with D and how we'd got back to my place without my having any knowledge of it.
Yes, I know what you're thinking but hold that thought.
What I've neglected to mention so far is that D is black. I don't know too many black men here in Nottingham and the man in my bed was black. In fact, I only know one, D. I eventually got up to go to the toilet. On my return, I saw my bed-partner's face for the first time.
It wasn't D!
He wasn't a total stranger either. I'd met J before, about 2 year's ago in London where he lives and spent the night with him (an interesting night!) and seen him twice since then in Nottingham as he has a house here that he rents out. Once I'd realised who it was, chunks of the night began to return. I still don't remember seeing him at the club or arriving at my flat with him.
But many of the best parts of the night definitely returned!