The following happened to me and a friend (who I won't name) at a bar (that I won't name) the other night (won't say which one).
A young woman with dark hair, a pint of cider and glitter about her hazy, drunk eyes stumbles over to the table where my friend and I sit. We were close to having finished our beers and had already made plans to go our separate ways and end the evening. She asks if it's okay to sit at our table and we happily oblige. I assume my friend knows her by the familiarity of his greeting.
'How are you?' she asks him, with an intoxicated drawl.
'Not bad thanks' he replies. 'You're *****'s sister, aren't you?'
'Yeah that's right.'
'I'm Joe' I say, with a polite smile and an outstretched hand. I'd only had two beers, hence why I was capable of such an introduction
She looks at me confusedly for a moment and says her name, taking my hand limply and latching on to it rather than really shaking it, as drunk people are often wont to do.
'What are you up to tonight?' my friend asks.
She slurs. 'Do you two know a good place to go round here? I think it's closing soon.'
I recommend a club that stays open until 4am and is free to get in.
'That sounds a bit posh' she moans. 'I don't want a posh bar, I want a shag!'
My friend and I glance at one another. 'Oh, right' I say. 'Well...'
'Where's a good place to go to get a shag?' she asks, staring intently at each of us in turn. I begin to hope that she doesn't spy an opportunity at this very table. It was awkward, but at least the only thing she was currently asking of me was advice.
I look at my friend. 'The bar over the road is still open, isn't it?'
'Erm, yeah I think so.'
She looks out of the window to the bar in question. She hiccups. 'Is that a posh bar too?'
'No' says my friend reassuringly. 'Not at all.'
She laughs and slumps over the table slightly. 'Heh. I just want to go out and fuck something.' She sips her cider.
'Well I'm sure you're bound to find what you're looking for over there' says my friend with a smile. We glance at one another again.
'I aint had sex in four years' she says. 'Four fucking years. Enough is enough. I thought to myself, I'm gonna go out, get pissed, find a bloke and fucking shag him.'
'Four years!' I say, trying to keep the conversation at a level of polite formality. 'Blimey.'
She lowers her face. 'I can't get over him' she says.
'Who's that?' asks my friend.
'Him' she repeats with added contempt. 'I love him. It's been four years since he left me.' Her voice quivers and she starts to cry, slumping over the table with her arms out in front of her.
The awkwardness has been upped.
'Now now' I say, grimacing at my friend. 'Four years is a long time, and like you say you're going to go and find another bloke tomorrow. I'm sure you'll forget all about him.'
I have never claimed to be an oracle of breakup advice.
She continues to sob. Then she looks up.
'He says I'm a fat, ugly bitch' she moans.
'Oh, well fuck' says my friend. 'He sounds like a dick. He's not worth getting hung up on.'
She sniffs. 'Yes he is, I love him.'
'He's not worth it if he's gonna say horrible things like that' I say, by now coasting through the handbook of reassuring stock responses.
'I'm all alone' she says.
'You must have somebody' says my friend.
'I've got two daughters.'
'Well, there you go!' I say.
She looks up at each of us with a sinister grin. 'I told my eleven-year-old that I'd be asleep on the sofa tonight' she says with another hiccup. 'But I won't be. I'll be out shagging.'
Neither of us have a response to this.
'It's been four years' she says again. 'And my pussy is good. My pussy is ready.'
'Like I say' says my friend. 'I'm sure there are plenty of blokes over the road who'd be interested.'
'I dunno' she giggles. 'It's a bit late, isn't it?'
'A bit. My girlfriend is probably asleep' says my friend, craftily working the fact that he is unavailable into the conversation. Well played. Unfortunately if I now say 'Mine too' it would sound like an excuse, so I'd have to wait for anoter segway.
'Do you think I'm I ugly?' she asks me.
'You're not ugly' I reply.
My friend takes charge of removing us from the situation. 'I think I'm going to head off' he says.
'Fair enough' she says. Then she turns to me and sidles up close. I was backed against the wall with her chest forcing my head as far back as it could bend.
'Do you want to come and have sex with me then?' she asks.
'I have a girlfriend!' I almost yell. That was quite a segway.
She recoils. 'Ugh. Fine. Do you know what I'm going to do?' she says.
'Go and get laid?' I ask.
'I'm gonna go and have sex' she says. Then she picks up my empty beer bottle and adds; 'with this.'
My friend and I repeated that alarmed glance we'd been practicing. She wraps her fingers around the neck of the bottle, closes her lips over it and begins to bob her head up and down the shaft in a motion that left nothing to the imagination. Then she catches sight of our faces and stops.
'It was a joke' she says flatly.
'I know' says my friend. 'I think we're going to head off soon.'
She scowls at us. 'Oh, fuck you then!' she roars. 'Everyone wants to fucking keep away from me. Fine. Whatever.'
'It's not like that!' I interject. She pauses and then laughs again.
'First I'm gonna get another drink' she says, 'then I'm gonna go to that club.' She gets up and climbs over the seat to go to the bar.
'Yeah I know I've got horrible fat legs' she says. 'You don't have to stare.'
'I'm not!' we both reply.
She laughs again and leaves for the bar. I turn to my friend.
'Shall we leg it?' I ask.
'Yes.'
Outside the bar, before we part ways, my friend informs me that this isn't a one off. That she's like this all the time and I now feel bad for recommending a bar where she can find an easy lay rather than trying to talk her into calling it a night and going home to her children. I'm reassured that it wouldn't have made an ounce of difference. I make a joke about how I should have got her number, my friend laughs and we each go our separate ways.
I hope she's due a good turn soon, whoever she is.
