The Amazing Art of Christmas Partying...
I am only just feeling capable of movement, and typing is still a struggle. Yes, I am suffering the inevitable shame and pain of the morning after the office christmas party. What makes a perfectly normal and sensible human being abandon all dignity at this once yearly event??? A copious amount of free wine certainly doesn't help. Nor (inexplicably) does choosing this occasion to take horse tranquiliser for the first time either.
Firstly, someone I have a lot of time for suffered from over-imbibing, and thought it wise to tell me of his affection for me. I feel very flattered, but I don't consider him in that way. So I started the evening with some damage limitation, trying to let him down without hurting his feelings too much. I hope I didn't do too bad a job.
Then, I said some exceptionally naughty things to Easyjet Boy, and partook in some dirty dancing with said man. I was pretty far gone at this point, but could see I was doing something right, and feeling very hopeful that I mighty get a sneaky kiss later on. In fact EJB had promised me I'd get a sneaky kiss later on. That was before "over-zealous friend syndrome" hit in. Mrs Pedro had already come over once to warn me of EJB's "bad reputation", something that secretly pleased me no end! But some time later, I stepped off the dance floor for two minutes, to return to a party minus EJB. Possibly seeing me looking around with puzzlement and disappointment, Pedro admitted shamefacedly that he'd gone over to EJB and warned him off with "don't do anything with .... unless you really mean it, because I won't have her hurt blah blah blah". It was the second time in my life that slapping Pedro really hard seemed like a good idea. But the fact that he apologised, and I guess did it with good intentions, prevented me. Grrrrrrr nonetheless.
Not that the good times ended there. Oh no. Burnley held the inevitable after-show party in his hotel room. It was he that tempted me with the pill of badness (and people that know me will know that partaking in pills is not at all my style), and come the early hours, I also found myself tempted into his bed. Och. I should add that Burnley does not "know" me in the biblical sense, but, ahem, he does "know" me now. Probably the circumstances aren't ideal, and having a fumble with a work-colleague is hardly sensible behaviour, but certainly no regrets. My three-year long crush on Burnley is the world's worst kept secret, and as I luxuriated in his compliments and admired his smooth lilly-white back, I felt a sense of incomparable warmth. Having a man in your bed after a fallow period just does that to you I'm afraid!
And contary to Pedro's assumption that I need "saving from myself" when it comes to men, I am not going to "go to peices" about Burnley. I am perfectly aware that he was K-ed up, has no intention of taking this anywhere (his taste in girlfriends seems to be pretty, unstable, commitment-phobic arty-types who inevitably hook him in then break his heart). I'm just chalking this one up as a nice night to remember...
Now before you think I'm the only slag at the Christmas do, I'd like to defend myself on that front. Not for the first time, Disney (who hits the big 40 next year) made it her mission to rub herself up against every man in the Trust. Come the end of evening she was flashing her bra, before the peice de resistance - taking off her bra and offering it the various menfolk she was dancing with. Even through the drunken haze I could see this was a bit shameful, so I nabbed the bra off her, and surreptitiously snuck it away. I wonder if she collected it before she left?!
Firstly, someone I have a lot of time for suffered from over-imbibing, and thought it wise to tell me of his affection for me. I feel very flattered, but I don't consider him in that way. So I started the evening with some damage limitation, trying to let him down without hurting his feelings too much. I hope I didn't do too bad a job.
Then, I said some exceptionally naughty things to Easyjet Boy, and partook in some dirty dancing with said man. I was pretty far gone at this point, but could see I was doing something right, and feeling very hopeful that I mighty get a sneaky kiss later on. In fact EJB had promised me I'd get a sneaky kiss later on. That was before "over-zealous friend syndrome" hit in. Mrs Pedro had already come over once to warn me of EJB's "bad reputation", something that secretly pleased me no end! But some time later, I stepped off the dance floor for two minutes, to return to a party minus EJB. Possibly seeing me looking around with puzzlement and disappointment, Pedro admitted shamefacedly that he'd gone over to EJB and warned him off with "don't do anything with .... unless you really mean it, because I won't have her hurt blah blah blah". It was the second time in my life that slapping Pedro really hard seemed like a good idea. But the fact that he apologised, and I guess did it with good intentions, prevented me. Grrrrrrr nonetheless.
Not that the good times ended there. Oh no. Burnley held the inevitable after-show party in his hotel room. It was he that tempted me with the pill of badness (and people that know me will know that partaking in pills is not at all my style), and come the early hours, I also found myself tempted into his bed. Och. I should add that Burnley does not "know" me in the biblical sense, but, ahem, he does "know" me now. Probably the circumstances aren't ideal, and having a fumble with a work-colleague is hardly sensible behaviour, but certainly no regrets. My three-year long crush on Burnley is the world's worst kept secret, and as I luxuriated in his compliments and admired his smooth lilly-white back, I felt a sense of incomparable warmth. Having a man in your bed after a fallow period just does that to you I'm afraid!
And contary to Pedro's assumption that I need "saving from myself" when it comes to men, I am not going to "go to peices" about Burnley. I am perfectly aware that he was K-ed up, has no intention of taking this anywhere (his taste in girlfriends seems to be pretty, unstable, commitment-phobic arty-types who inevitably hook him in then break his heart). I'm just chalking this one up as a nice night to remember...
Now before you think I'm the only slag at the Christmas do, I'd like to defend myself on that front. Not for the first time, Disney (who hits the big 40 next year) made it her mission to rub herself up against every man in the Trust. Come the end of evening she was flashing her bra, before the peice de resistance - taking off her bra and offering it the various menfolk she was dancing with. Even through the drunken haze I could see this was a bit shameful, so I nabbed the bra off her, and surreptitiously snuck it away. I wonder if she collected it before she left?!
posted by TheMightyDing at 15:02
1 Comments:
i expect a phonecall once you have recovered enough!
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