...Eve was a peculiar one. I was introduced to my Doppelgänger. I was roundly lambasted for not wearing fancy dress. Hell, my Mr T impersonation last year was sufficient effort for two years, I thought.
And I didn't get too drunk until an Irish chap started feeding me with moonshine that he had smuggled into the pub; and the decline was rapid.
Earlier in the evening, I had met a rather lovely young lady. In one of our first conversations, she went into some depth as to how much she appreciated Sally Phillips - to the extent that her performance as Cinderella in the recent 'Jam and Jersusalem' had left her awash with drool. 'Hmmm,' thought I.
Just after midnight we hugged. A little while later still, I was talking to Irish chap, and the sapphic stunner pushed her way between us mid-conversation, to steal an unexpected snog. Carumba!
After a protracted bout of rather shameless public passion, it suddenly became time for a serious chat. Blee!
"Now. You are very lovely. But it's important that you know that I'm gay."
"Yes; I can tell."
"No, seriously... I am gay. Gay with a capital 'G'."
"Ok."
"But you are very lovely."
"Thank you!"
"But I am gay."
"Are you trying to tell me something ?"
I reassured her that I wasn't about to get hung up or stalkerish, and that I understood that we stray from the path sometimes. Blame drunken high spirits. I wasn't about to be too pushy. This is possibly where I'm going wrong. There, and everywhere else.
I texted my chum Busty Farm Girl, and told her that - amongst other things - I'd kissed a lebannon. Or rather, she'd kissed me. Her response :
Well, one finds love in the most unlikely of places. Maybe she was attracted to your moobs? Maybe it was your secret fanny? Maybe it was your girlish walk?
I think 2007 will herald a new confidence.
