Sunday, March 6, 2011

It Wasn't Me.

If you saw me on Friday night, it was not me.

I've made it my I'm-Recently-Single Change-Of-Life Resolution to hang out with more single people. And it's not because I don't absolutely adore My Smug Marrieds. Quite the contrary - they rock my world - but I'm so comfortable and accepted in their company that I feel little need to extend my circles. And, the truth is, I need to. So I'm on a Single-Girls-Unite-In-The-Name-Of-Tequila Mission.

Thanks muchly to Single Friend for widening my Single Circle on Friday night. I had the most fabulous time. (That is, strictly speaking, not entirely true. I think I had the most fabulous fun but could be mistaken, given the very large gaps in memory.)

It all started at "The" rugby. "We're going to the rugby," said Single Friend. Now, I'm not really the rugby type, at, like, all. But I can go with the flow. So I did not quite realise she meant Club Rugby and not Big Rugby. (What did that make us? Club rugby groupies? On my re-introduction into Single Life in Durban? I'd already been labelled and hadn't even had a drink.) But where there's a bar, there's a happy Pant. And so us girls did what all girls do best, we chucked liquor in our beaks. The bar ladies at this rugby joint were, if truth be told, super mega-fugly. And one flirted with me. So what did I do? I flirted back. The Pant: Not One To Miss An Opportunity.

Let me simply suggest that this night regressed with alacrity. Before we'd even been out, we'd (new friends) been for a toilet-paper-free team pee in communal toilet at Lovely-Long-Haired-Friend's flat. We made make-shift loo paper using bright pink tissue paper. I think the end result may have been magenta vaginy).

(On the subject, I learned something new on Friday night: The Vagazzle. According to Google, "Vagazzling is the art of blinging one's beaver" - with adhesive diamantes. I'm in shock. Who would actually vagazzle?)

Towards mid-evening, I made it my mission to find a twenty-year old hottie hot pants, minus shirt. Would you believe that this commodity is, in fact, fairly thick on the ground in Durban? Thanks muchly Single Girls for being my moral compass, and preventing me from tucking into Green Shirt Boy. I'd have felt all kinds of wrong yesterday if I had.

In fact I know I had a brill time, I must have: I woke up with three different types of chewing gum, a Heat magazine and two empty packets of Fritos (the red ones) next to my bed.

Yay for embracing singledom too. It really is all kinds of fun.

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