Pull

Normally you’re really fucking shite at this because it’s just so obvious to approach a stranger and say, like, “hi”, isn’t it – you may as well introduce yourselves to them genitals-first, you figure, you may as well walk up and say “hi I’m interested in the subject of fucking you, do you perhaps have a pamphlet?” and then you just have the stink of it on you all through the ensuing conversation, you nodding along and not really listening because you’re so aware of the beads of sweat on your forehead, the weird way your legs are shaking, What You’re Doing With Your Arms – but whatever, tonight you’re feeling loose and good and also (perhaps related) that head dress girl palmed you half a pill so you go into shark mode and bounce in and out of every room – couple of potentials upstairs, someone in the garden looks nice but they’re already laughing and smoking with someone else, maybe… one of… the bouncers…? But then you queue for the toilet for a bit and get chatting to a pair of friends who are waiting together and it kind of goes well with the shorter one, like maybe they are vibing with you, are they vibing with you? Is this a vibe? And you finally crawl to the front of the queue and you let the other friend go in first, and by the time they’ve pissed, washed their hands and used the hand lotion (this is the kind of party that has hand lotion, and I mean not the shit stuff either, you make a note to Google it for the flat and when you do it comes out at £45 a tub) (go TK Maxx, mate, you’re not £45-hand-lotion fancy, not by a long way), by the time they are out you’re already tongue-deep in each other and have your hands in their pockets, it’s go–time