Out with the married, in with the new

You may be wondering what happened with Mac? Well, Mac put off the the date til January which was really the last straw for me, plus I still had the niggling feeling in the back of my mind that he was still happily married. Although he swears his wife is in name only and they lead separate lives and he can do what he wants with whomever he chooses, it didn't feel right. I wrote an email to him saying all the fun and spontaneity had gone out of the idea and the fact that he wasn't free until January, meant he didn't really seem that keen. He wrote back saying it wasn't because he didn't want to see me but it was down to too many commitments with the wife and family! Bloomin heck! If you are even thinking of embarking on an affair, you don't tell your prospective lover that you are a bit too busy with the family do you?? So, I put a stop to it immediately. I said I think I may have made a mistake and I was sorry for having started it all up again. That he should call me if he really was separated or moved out or divorced his wife. The End.

So, the night I was originally to have gone out with Mac, I ended up going out in East London with a very fun gay friend to drown my sorrows. We drank too much, we gossiped, we drank more, we smoked lots of cigarettes, we drank tequila shots, we slow danced in a spanish bar and ended up swaying around in the streets at 2am as happy as larry. My friend tried to hail me a cab by standing in the middle of the road and eventually a car pulled over. I remember a conversation with the driver asking if he was a real mini cab and was I safe with him and he replied ‘yes, of course’. What else would he say? We obviously thought he looked trustworthy enough because I sat in the front seat ready to have a good old conversation with him for the long journey home, which was an hour. This man was hilarious! I laughed the whole way home and I kept saying “you don't seem like a minicab driver”, which I meant as a compliment, of course. Most minicab drivers in London are foreign and don't really like to have a conversation. They tolerate the drunkards that get in their cabs and just pray they don't vomit!

Adrian (I found out his name in the first 10 seconds) finally said “well, I only drive a cab sometimes, my real job is a theatre director!” What, sorry, pardon? I was so confused and said so... I think I implied that he might be fibbing and he handed me a business card. Theatre Director, Woolwich Theatre. Blimey! I suddenly became a little more interested in Adrian and my beer goggles kicked in to overdrive. Here was a big black man, making me cry with laughter who just happened to be involved with the theatre... my passion in life! Hello Adrian! The rest of the journey was a bit of a blur but I remember talking about theatre and the plays we had seen and acting and performing and oooohhhh, it was fun. When he pulled up in front of my flat I leant over and kissed him!! I know, I'm not proud. Kissing a strange mini cab driver at 3am. Bad! Anyway, I vaguely remember him being happily surprised and compliant!

The next morning I woke up and smiled at the drunkenness with my friend and then I sat bolt upright and shouted “Noooooooooo, what have I done!” Flashbacks of cabs and a black man and then, Oh shit, the kiss. What the fuck was I thinking! Then the hangover from hell kicked in and I worried about that for the next 12 hours whilst lying, groaning on my sofa.

A few days later I was rifling through my handbag and found his business card. Oh my God. I then decided to do a bit of internet stalking and there he was, theatre director. So he hadn't made it up. Oh Christ... and a photo. Here was Adrian, a giant grinning black guy, about 40 something, eek. Should I get in touch? Was he really very funny and sexy or was I just completely trolleyed with no sense of anything? Fuck it! I texted him apologising for my drunken behaviour. He texted back that it was a pleasure and would love to have a proper date with me. Shit, what now? A few more texts, a bit more stalking, a bit more interest, a phone call with much laughter, several more phone calls, more laughter and chat. A date. A date for tomorrow night.

I will leave you on tenterhooks!