Consequences

Work Xmas Party Friday night.
I got back yesterday.

It was an interesting evening. Not exactly revelatory, but in some ways, a sobering experience.
It was one of those evenings when I guess I was on top form. One of those evenings when I truly am the person I am at my best.
And that was the point. So many instances showed me the plus points to this.
But also the negatives.

Of course by the time I got back home, I looked like Gollum's ghost, but c'est la vie.

Last night I definitely gave my all to the evening. I was throwing myself at the world and loving every moment of it.
I was vivacious, conversational, brilliant on the dancefloor, exuding confidence/borderline arrogance, attracting the desired female attention, in short being that version of me which no one ever forgets, because I'm just extroverterdly hedonistic in a way that makes people notice.
Because it's not the hedonism of the drunkards, or the Rugby club type.

It's the dancing on the stage, constant flirting and eye-flashing, blowing kisses to pretty much everybody, being on the ball with rounds of drinks, getting served at lightening speed, being proactive at getting taxis and coming up with ideas, having the witty oneliners or the withering responses, up front friendliness to total strangers, it's why people like going out with me and like having me at parties.
I'm lively.

It's partly because I just enjoy it. It's what I live for. I just love partying. I love the constant buzz of people.
And as you'd expect, bearing in mind it's what I live for and I'm not stupid, it stands to reason I'm good at it.

I'm very good at pleasure seeking.

Now over the course of the evening, two separate events occurred, one of which illustrates the positive parts of this philosophy, the other of which illustrates the down sides.

The first scenario happened at the end of the night. Us stragglers had got invited, whilst at an exquisite little all night dance club very much to my liking, to an afterparty at a twenty four bar. As we approached the bar the guy who'd invited us said. 'Here we are, where those girls are standing, having a fag outside.'

As we came to the door, one of the girls turned and shouted 'It's that guy! Every time I see this guy he's giving it some! Oh, Karen, take a picture of us.'

And so I posed with her, whilst her cousin took a photo.

Mmmm.
Party's looking good already. Cute, mixed race, looks full of life, nice figure.

I wasn't overshocked that she managed to get me to take her number later on. Half the time I don't ring these numbers. But in this case, the chances are, I might.



OK. That was the positive side.
The negatives.

Much earlier. A more sedate, refined stage of the evening. Still not VERY refined.

At this point, it's still a works do. The only people in the gathering are co-workers, most of whom are still present. The general ambiance is alcohol related, not dance culture related.

Crushed is in earnest conversation with Dizzy Bizzie. Dizzy Bizzie has a had a fair bit of wine. Crushed is not planning to seduce her, but he is following a long term strategy, the ultimate end being, well, seduction. Just obviously not now, it wouldn't be right.

This sort of operation is actually about, you do really like the person. You do actually like the idea of them sharing your bed as more than just a one night stand. Is it Love? I don't know. There's certainly no plan of it being permanent. Just till the two of you get bored, but you certainly wouldn't mind doing the couple thing for a little bit.

So it's part a conversation to alleviate her huge doubts about you- she is attached at present- part a conversation to lay groundrules, should something happen.

So, showing her pictures of you and your mates, telling her a bit about your ideas on the world, why you think the things you do (without too much negative detail), selling Crushed basically.

Obviously, the issue of my lifestyle came up.

And then the crunchline. 'XXX, I think you're playing with me. To you, all this is just a game. You'll just move on. You get bored, I know you do. You've said so. You don't really want anyone.,

I was honest 'I still can't make my mind up. I'll be honest, Bizzie, I'm pondering it. I'm sure a way can be found.'

And then she comes back with 'You see, someone else told me you do this a lot. I'm not saying who, but I was told you go through a lot of flings and get bored. That you treat this sort of thing as a game, that really, it's just the chase you enjoy.'

Ouch. I'm aware that this is thought about me. But I didn't realise it was that well known.
Is it true. Hard to say. On the basis of the empirical evidence, it would seem that way. But here's the weird thing. Each time, I always enter into it with the sincere belief that maybe this one could be the one.



Thing is, I keep finding other 'Ones', everywhere I go.

I had to stand back and concede that she was right, right not to throw away what she has for someone who stands a statistically high chance of hurting them emotionally.
I like her too much to want to hurt her.

Or should I take a chance? Because when the real 'one' turns up, paradoxically, I'm only going to find her, by risk of hurting her.

A paradox.

Can the real 'one' please stand up?