So last Friday was a bit of a blur. I remember having a few drinks at a friend’s birthday party, heading to indepenDance and (doing as the night club suggested) dancing the night away. Well this is what I thought had happened. In reality I’d had a LOT of drinks, stumbled all the way to indepenDance and hardly danced at all. Instead, in our inebriated states my friend Dominique and I were convinced we were in fact Spanish. So when approached by some Spanish chicos we took this opportunity to show off our language skills. Of course in the drunken conditions we could hardly speak English let alone Spanish, and due to my large consumption of Sambuca all of this had been completely wiped from my memory.
The next morning, well 2 in the afternoon (slowly but surely adapting to the Spanish time zone) I was awoken by the ping of my phone as it received a whatsapp. Only able to open one eye I tried to focus on the message that read “God morning” from an unknown number. Immediately two scenarios sprung to my mind; maybe I was so drunk last night that that was a message to repent my sins or it was a message from a Spanish person who couldn’t speak very good English. Very quickly after recounting the night with my slightly more sober friend I realised that I was not in fact being contacted by a higher power but instead it must have been the guy I was chatting to whilst sitting on the side of the road at 7 in the morning (not a great look I must admit).
Much to my surprise as the weekend continued so did our conversation and late on Sunday afternoon, Sixto (yes that is his name), asked if I wanted to go for a drink. Sticking to my YOIMO (You’re Only In Madrid Once) motto I agreed but was instantly was filled with fear when I remembered that I have absolutely no idea what this guy looked like! As the “date” approached my anxiety grew. Soon I realised the only way to face up to it was with a bit of Dutch courage. Of course what was intended to be one glass of wine to calm my nerves ending up being the whole bottle and before I knew it I was tottering off to meet my date.
Luckily he didn’t turn out to be weird or a serial killer (as my mother had suggested) but in fact just a really nice guy. Of course as we were in Spain the date started at 10.30 and a lot of beer was drunk, so it’s fair to say by the end I was pretty sloshed…again! But I think I had set the precedent the first night we met so he didn’t even bat an eyelid!
However, regardless of how much of a fool I made of myself I must have done something right as were going out again! Spain and the Spanish people continue to surprise me!
Picture Credits: venuemagazine.com, joomla25.zootemplate.com, nerdysomething.co.uk