I ended up having two of Lesley’s lethal doses of Jagermeister. It seemed equal measures were beyond her but I couldn’t complain. It meant I’d spend less when we went out and it wasn’t as though London nights out were realistically within my pay grade.
Slightly tipsy I sat in the living room next to Amy’s boyfriend Chris who had decided to join us for the evening. I liked him. He was a nerd, quite like me and we were into the comic books. I also liked the masculine we he called me baby in his cockney accent. He said it as though it was natural though and not in anyway “condescending to the gay.”
Another predicament I found myself in. Was being a nerd and a geek accepted in the “gay world” that I had yet to truly venture into? In a world that seemed dominated by slim, fake tanned Ken dolls and muscular gods was there room for a slightly overweight nerdy 26 year old single?
I guess I really took for granted the little things Tom accepted about me. The things that I was teased about in school. I was passionate about my hobbies and it was difficult to find someone accepting of the guy who collected comic books, who watched Japanese cartoons and played video games.
Starting from scratch was definitely going to be… an experience.
“You alright babe?” Chris had asked mid-conversation.
We’d been discussing the new Transformer’s trailer. I didn’t like the franchise nor did I like Michael Bay as a director but he was quite the fan. Something must have been amiss with my tone as he changed the subject to ask about my well being. I just shrugged.
“I’m fine.” And I drank my third Jagermeister and red bull.
Maybe if I got ridiculously drunk things would be fine. I knew drunk me was fun. Drunk on wine me however wasn’t so I’d stay clear of that poison for the evening. I was the kind of drunk who loved everyone. I’d have embarrassing heart to hearts with my friends and the only dance I knew was the bump ‘n grind. However, drunk on wine me was a sit in the corner and cry drunk. I caused trouble and deserved a slap when I was drunk on wine.
We officially started the evening with a traditional game of “Never have I ever” which saw everyone drinking and left me sat there with a half empty glass and everyone else managed to get through another two glasses of their chosen poison. We learnt however that since our last game of “Never have I ever” that Amy and Chris had “tried it up the bum” as Lesley put the question, a question that seemed to be put out there to allow me to at least have one mouthful of booze. We discovered that Lesley had “done it outside” and that Chris had wore women’s clothing. Another question that seemed to be there to permit me a drink but much to my friends disappointment I had never cross dressed and nor would I ever.
Regardless of a drinking game that left me pretty much out of the picture the atmosphere was good. The company was great and as always the crack was top notch. We took the tube to Leicester Square station and Lesley had prepared Capri Sun cartons filled with rum. Straight rum. Rum that tasted like what can only be described as a deathly burning sensation for all of the senses. Just a couple of sips and my vision was skewed.
Oh no.
We walked from Leicester Square to Charring Cross. Me and Lesley arm and in arm and Amy and Chris walking ahead of us. Before I knew it we were at Charring Cross station. We walked past the bus stops and down the side of the station building. There were numerous pubs and restaurants to our left but we skipped them all to join a queue inside the building. There were a few other clubs and bars that were closing up on the inside and I group of bouncers in florescent jackets outside the entrance to the infamous “Heaven.”
The queue wasn’t so big. Around 50 people waited to be let in by the heavies at the door. I could feel the heavy bass from inside the club vibrating through my feet and the faintest tune of whatever chart hit they were playing. I didn’t recognize it but Lesley already had her hands in the air and had started to sing.
“You want a Lamborghini, sippin’ Martini’s…you gotta work bitch.” She turned to us and yelled. “I fucking love this song!”
I just laughed. I was rubbish at chart music too. I knew the odd song here and there but I didn’t actually pick up what was popular until nights out quite like this one. I did know that I wanted to at least hear Neon Jungle again. “Braveheart” had become “my song” apparently and if I was drunk enough I’d be dropping it low as soon as that bass dropped.
“I just want to get inside. Get another drink down me. Or six.” I said.
“Take it easy. We don’t want to be carrying you home.”
“Amy, love, I’ll be fine. Honestly.”
After a half hour wait we were finally inside. After paying the entry fee we made a bee line for the bar. I decided it would be safe to stick with the same drink. I didn’t want to mix. Not after the last time I mixed drinks and ended up home after half an hour. It was my 24th birthday and one of Tom’s friends had gotten me a “top shelf cocktail”. It was a thick black liquid that had the following: Sambuca, Apple Sourz, Cherry Sourz, Vodka and Absinthe. I couldn’t even hold my own head up after that one. I ended up locked in the toilets in some bar and had to have security help me out and into a taxi. Not one of my finest moments.
Lesley however, as usual, had other plans and she handed me a shot of tequila. I hated the stuff and so did she as far as I could remember. Regardless we licked the salt from our hands downed a shot that was indescribably vile and sucked on a piece of lime which I could only ever assume was given to wash the disgusting taste of tequila from your mouth.
“Tequila, really?” I asked, raising my voice slightly above the music.
“You want to get drunk don’t you? This will do the trick pet!”
I smiled. “Okay okay. But no more shots. Can you watch my drink? I need to pee.”
I handed her my Jager and coke and walked through to the toilets. I’d needed to pee since we left the flat but I didn’t want to “Break the seal” so early. I was terrible for toilet breaks when drinking. I knew now that I would probably visit the toilets for a piss at least another seven times throughout the night. Was that natural? I had no idea but alcohol seemed to go right through me.
I stepped into the crowded men’s bathrooms and only then I remembered I was in a gay night club. I felt suddenly nervous and self conscious even despite my slight intoxication. The toilet cubical was engaged and the only place for me to relieve myself was a space in the corner next to three other guys. I took a deep breath and walked to the urinal. I couldn’t hold it in any longer and if I was going home early I wanted it to be because I was throwing my guts up from booze not because I’d pissed myself.
I unzipped, got “it” out and stood at an awkward angle so know one could see as I pissed into the corner of the long urinal. I never used urinal’s anyway. Never. But this was a slight emergency and I didn’t want to look like I was loitering around a men’s toilets in a gar bar as I waited for the only cubical to free up.
“Noah?”
I heard my name being said. I really did but it took a while for it to compute that I was the only Noah in the toilets. It also took me a while to recognize the voice. A voice that had once been oh so familiar. I finished my business, put myself away and glanced up to see Tom staring down at me.
The Rubbish Gay 