Not long after DC the princesses and I were off for our annual trip to EDC. If you dont know about this then...
Being an absolute madam I’m not really one for weekenders sleeping in a field, but this is a full-blown day-rave so its right up my street. If you haven't been and you're into commercial dance music and generally enjoying your life then you should 100% go. Except you can't this summer because the bxxxxxxs at Milton Keynes Superbowl haven’t let it go ahead this year. #Devoed
Anyway us girls were all totally over excited. We're talking glitter, glow sticks and UV body paint. Not a scrap of skin was safe from the sparkly stuff. It was a fairly reasonable Saturday weather-wise last July, so we were all dressed in little shorts and adult baby-grows (bodysuits) This trend in women’s' clothing is great. Except at festivals or on nights out when you are squatting in a porter-loo trying your best to TOUCH ABSOLUTELY NOTHING whilst doing the poppers back up at your crotch. #NotSoStylishNowAreYou.
Another thing about festivals and gigs that causes problems for my lot when choosing your outfit, is how to hide the contraband. When you are wearing so little there are very few places you can realistically conceal your unicorn hip-flask full of Absolute. Try walking naturally with one of these down your hot-pants or in your bra when your tops' skin tight. #StillDidItThoughDidntWe. It's not that drinks are particularly over-priced (even though they are) its more how long it takes to get served. Your warm fuzzy festival vibes can actually wear off by the time you make it to front of the bar sweating in a sea of fellow ravers, and you don’t want to miss your fave songs just because you were lost in the queue for drink, so as raging alcoholics we adopt an open policy of #BYOB.
Once we made it past the sniffer dogs, we scoped out a good spot to enjoy the main stage. At this point one of the princesses was also riding with me on the single-pringle bus and she was keen for some #shenanigans. I was in a very take-it-or-leave-it mood. Put it this way as a long-term pringle, at a festival I'd rather be on some guy’s shoulders loving life instead of snogging him and missing the music. Most of the time.
Dont get me wrong, the fumbling and the texty-textersonness with DC had reminded me just how much more enjoyable a real life man can be in person vs all the months I'd had play-dreaming about Joe Manganiello. But I still wasn't in a rush. Especially to get involved with the wrong person.
Exquisite isn't he? <3
So as we danced in our little area near the main stage my fellow pringle (lets call her Ruth) caught the eye of a tasty looking guy who was also enjoying life with his mates near us. I looked over and remember seeing her looking up at him like "ohh you're pretty" and him looking down and smiling at her like she was a strawberry flavored calypso. Ruth being a great friend, after getting to know this man a little better (turns out him and his mates were all "saffas", which if like me you didn't know, means South-African and they all lived and worked in LDN) came over to me squealing like we were at school and said, "Okay how HOT is he!!! and also his mate fancies you!"
"He's really hot!!" I encouraged her, and "Which one?" I asked.
Turns out my option was a tall muscly dark-haired guy. But he was the baby of their group. Pretty but only 25. "Mmm he's okay’ I said as he came over to us. Drunk, smiling and keen he reminded me of an over excited Labrador puppy. Cute but he didn't get me going. So I chatted back but remained more interested in dancing. Turns out he had asked Ruth how to get my attention. She had told him that I liked muscles, so mid way through our "where are you from then?" chat, he decided (or more likely the all the booze he had drunk told him now was the time) to take his t-shirt off.
Puppy guy was beefy for sure. But being topless just put me more off him. As I tried not to giggle at his display of a healthy and solid commitment to the weights-room, I caught eyes with another guy in their group. He was standing nearby smiling mildly at our exchange and that thing kicked in. You know what i mean, the #WantingWhatYouCantHave thing. The cooler, more laid back and therefore mysterious guy who wasn't flexing his arms or paying me much attention seemed infinitely more appealing that the one in front of me ready and willing to put the work in.
As we held eyes briefly I gave him a small smile and three hours later my legs were round his waist and his hands were under my ass as we kissed against a meeting point pillar. Angus as we shall call him, also worked in the Wharf, and lived in London Bridge. The whole group of saffas left soon after midnight to catch their coach back to London and Angus and I kissed goodbye. He promised to see me back in London and the princesses and I attempted to head back to the house of one of their dads' who lived 15 mins away from the superbowl.
Tinders' & Steakhouse making festival faces
Lots of texting from Angus cheered me up on the long-ass journey back from MK to East London that Sunday. He seemed super keen. When I made it home I was still texting him as I walked up the seven floors of steps to get to the flat. We had a really nice lift but I had read way too many issues of Womens Health and so almost always took the stairs for the extra #BootyGains. Even when hungover-to-fudge.
In my confuddled state I managed to get back up to the flat. I walked right through our unlocked front door and chucked an immediate right, straight into my room. Wondering mildly why one of the flat brothers had put all his shoes in the doorway to my ensuite?
"Cheeky Monkeys!" I thought. Heading further into the room I realised with shock that there was a hot man in my bed. Except it wasn't my bed was it?
Wasn't even my fudging room!!
I turned and ran howling "Sh!t, Sorrysorrysorry SORRY" and flew back out the way I had come, realising I was actually on floor fudging 6. Making it up to floor 7 and walking into our (as ever unlocked) front door, I put the bolt on and fell on my bed. #FestivalComeDownProblems To be fair, he had looked even more scared than me.
Angus came over to the East Village the next evening. He arrived on his motorbike and this alone instantly made him a good 3 times hotter. What is it about men on bikes? Especially ones with stubble, thick arms, abs popping out there T-Shirts and killer smiles? ...
We went to the bar nearest mine in the village and sat outside in the warm summer evening sipping icy mojitos swapping stories on holiday plans, festivals and how soul-sucking working in finance can be. He was charming and funny, but made it clear he preferred being single. After a few more drinks he suggested going back to mine for a cuddle.
Now I wasn't a total idiot but he did give me the horn, and he was good at kissing so I agreed and warned him that I wasn't going to sleep with him. He just smiled and put his hand round my waist.
When we got home he went straight into my room and said he would prefer not to say "Hi" when i suggested introducing him to the flat-brothers who were sat in the living, room watching football. His exact words were "nah" and then he just pulled me down on the bed for a snuggle.
"Rude" I thought afterwards.
We ended up smushing for next few hours. Whilst fourth base wasn't reached, in spite of some considerable attempts from
Mr Steakhouse, bases 1-3 was adequately covered for both parties. #SaffaHadSkills i'll give him that. I didn't come despite his very enjoyable efforts, but after he finished he wanted to stay the night. "No-no poppet" I said, and he motorbiked himself back home.
We met again a few weeks later when he was back from #TomorrowLand the most amazing festival of life (if you didn't already know) have a watch:
This time I went to his at London Bridge. Over last summer loads of open air spots all over the city popped screens up showing the Olympics for free. These were always next to pop up bars (which weren't free) but very fun. Angus and I got cosy sat in the area along the River Thames by Tower Bridge and shared a sun lounger in front of one of the huge screens. As I lay back on him in the warm summer evening snuggled in his arms whilst we watched the Running, lost in a crowd of other Londoners' enjoying the games. I just remember feeling so free and happy. I didn't want much more from him than his manliness and the contact at that point. I knew he wasn't going to be anyone I would end up with but it was lush to be wanted by someone I fancied for a change.
After it finally got dark we headed back to his for more of the same fumbling as before. He got a little more disgruntled at being denied full access this time and I got cross when, after being happy to get me extremely tipsy on gin-cocktails from the pop-up, he wouldn't walk me back to the tube. The trouble was I didn't know which way I was headed, and I felt fairly cross that he was good to get me tipsy and into shenanigans, but not cool to not make sure I got home safe.....
When I made it back to mine sans any assistance from Steakhouse I text him how unimpressed I was and I woke to up to an essay about how he thought I was a feminist and how he shouldn't have had to walk me back.....
Lessons learned
1) If he wont say "hi" to your flatmates he really isn't a keeper. And if he wont even walk you 6mins back to the tube when he's gotten you drunk and not offered you the chance to eat any dinner, he's actually a bit of a douche. #NeverMissAMeal
2) This one I saw in a meme but it might as well become part of the Tinderella bible "hot boys are overrated - find yourself a 7 who makes you laugh"
3) If you are seriously tipsy, get an uber home not the tube. In London at least, its often not even that much more expensive, specially when you are going short distance. It's also traceable and therefore safer, plus you can lay down and nap until you are home if you fancy it. As opposed to the tube where you most definitely should not attempt this.
4) Don't text boys when on a festival hangover and walking up 14 flights of stairs as you will get off on the wrong floor and scare your neighbours to death.
I didn't reply to his essay, and he text a few weeks later but I left him on read.