and then what happened...

After the night of the trailer-park-trash-party, I didn't hear from Warren for a few days (which is approximately years in University life). The following weekend we went out (as you do, every weekend in University) and who should I bump into at "The Rat" (which is really the only place to go out in Grahamstown), Mr Warren himself and we embarked on that awkward first-encounter-after moment:

I noticed he was dressed like a very fancy-pants - 

 

Direct. To the point. Not a suggestion.
Girls like this.

 

i did a lot of blushing

and giggling
as you do, when you are a young University student and an attractive fourth-year-boy is approaching you.

 

So Mr Warren asked for my number - I blushed a few more times and quickly scurried off to tell all my friends and also some drunk strangers about the evening's developments. There was plenty of high-fiving in the bathroom (that's what we do in there).

Then,

 

(oh goodie! he's coming to talk to me again!) 

*blushes*
*blushes*  

WD: No, you didn't

Me: ...yes......yes, im pretty sure I did.

WD: No, you didn't.

 

sometimes it's confusing for people, the C-H thing. i get it.
 

 
well, you got the number Mr Warren.

At this point, it would be vital to introduce you to the concept of Grahamstown Drinking Clubs. These long-established drinking clubs consist of elite gentlemen who meet for events known as "club-shows" in which they gather in high standards of decorum, dressed in formal club-show attire, including suits and official club-ties. It is extremely selective and junior members are invited to "guest" for the club before they are actually invited to join. Since these clubs are founded on exclusivity and confidentiality, the lay-person is never really sure what actually goes on during these club shows, but based on the gentlemen that actually make it out after one of these "club-shows" we can conclude that as-much-alcohol-as-humanly-possible-(and-a-case-or-two-on-top-of-that-for-luck) has been consumed. Warren and his elite gentlemanly ways, had reached The Chairman status of his club at this stage. Meaning he was in charge of his entire club, also meaning he was the drunkest person in the Eastern Cape that night.

Let me also interrupt myself and point out that when I am drunk, I look a little like this -

noticeable huh?
yeah.

Now let's look at Warren -

yeah, he's one of those.

So after he had asked for my number, the second time, we had a conference meeting in The Rat Bathroom.

Me: Hey guys, he just asked for my number again. Is that...nor..m..?

Girl mates: Well... maybe he's drunk.

Me: He doesn't look drunk at all.

Girl mates: Yeah, i did see him earlier - he looks pretty sober...  Maybe he's joking?

Me: I don't know, he seemed pretty serious. Do you think he's trying to be obnoxious? I'm not sure...

Now, when I had first noticed his dashing  suit, I had failed to notice the:

which would have been very indicative of a Post-Club-Show-Man. 

Which would have made the whole night make a lot more sense.

Silly me.

Anyway he asked for my number twice, which was funny and then weird and then -

 yes

three times people.

three times.

...and so began the love affair
to end all love affairs...

ps. over the years I have come to be able to tell when warren is "not-sober" the most tell-tale of all is that he can do this  when he's sober (awesome i know),  but totally not when he's drunk. lol.