"I've only seen you in the pub once before," had said Nell earlier, "and you were really uncomfortable." She laughed. I couldn't disagree - that was the lunchtime that the 'banter' had looped out of control and I had had to leave. For some reason, I thought Joe's leaving do would be a bit different.
"I'm cool, I'm calm, I'm confident, I'm awes.... hey Ant!" Ant crossed the road and we arrived at The Oakford just in time to see a crowd of children fish ID cards out of their pockets.
What Joe's leaving do actually turned out to be (and it was nothing less than predictable) was a kind of experiment in social awkwardness, and not just for me. I arrived at the point where tipsy is just on the turn, and the fog of group-inebriation is slowly settling. You can always tell this because it's when people are still normal enough to realise that what they just said was a little too loose. I stood next to Mischa, coke in hand, chatting about writing.
"Do you like blogging?" he asked.
"Sure!" I said, smiling.
"What do you blog about?"
"Me, mostly!" I said above the background chatter. A neat-haired young man with bronzed muscles under a crisp white shirt pushed between us with two tall Peronis.
"Yes, it's more of a personal diary," I went on.
Is Peronis the plural of Peroni? I was wondering silently. Should it be Peronie? Peronii?
"Oh, I wouldn't be interested in that," said Mischa, sipping his drink and looking away.
Fair enough, I thought.
Social awkwardness. I looked around me, and all I saw was insecurity. It was written behind the plastered smiles and the make-up: the entire place was packed with kids looking like grown-ups, desperately trying to fit into the world of pretend adulthood. It made me sad for a moment.
Oz arrived and dragged everyone off to O'Neill's so he could watch the Arsenal match. There, I talked to Dimitrios for a while about football as though I knew at least something about it, then got myself out of another tricky and embarrassing drunken conversation.
'WHY DO I GO TO THESE THINGS?' I messaged Sammy.
Everyone else was transfixed by the match, so I decided to wish Joe the best of adventures in his new job (he won't remember that conversation) and then I slipped out the back of O'Neill's, and headed for the train station. I doubt anyone else even saw me go.
'Just leave if you don't like it,' replied Sammy. Good plan, I thought, strolling into the station.
Then Emmie told me that Sammy was on the way to hers... so I planned out how to get there, intending to at least round-off my evening with people I'm genuinely close to.
Work is a funny collection of people. I can't say I'd choose to be friends with lots of them - nor they with the novel-writing, quiet, unfunny weirdo who writes documentation for them. I think next time I will skip the leaving do and stick to scribing a platitude in the Card of Many Signatures.
After the train home and the car to Emmie's, I arrived feeling over-tired but also relieved I was somewhere comfortable, friendly and familiar. I smiled as I climbed the steps to Emmie's flat.
"I'm cool, I'm calm, I'm confident, I'm awesome," I chuckled to myself.
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