So the other day I tried to get into a party and couldn’t get in. I wouldn’t have minded by why wait 40 minutes before informing people that it’s not going to happen for them that night? Seriously London is in a recession, there isn’t enough juice for door bitches in flats to be pulling these stunts.

My friends and I ended up at Revolution Bar instead. I was kind of relieved as it was one of those straight from the theatre days and I wasn’t dressed to rave. Surely I wouldn’t know anyone. Sadly I did. A few familiar faces were there including one who is an ex of a friend and an arsehole and my old Drunken Dial part 2 guy. Black London is getting smaller or I’m going out more. Mmmmm. Don’t judge my precious after a recession it’s only right to go out and see how the game has changed.

I was already suffering the disappointment of a bad prosecco when I found this guy looking at me from nearby. I won’t lie my precious he was cute. Not sure why he was staring but as he swayed over (yes he was slightly worse for wear) I saw him checking out Azania (my butt) and I knew he was of west African origin. The game hasn’t changed at all apparently.

Turns out I was right. Nigerian. Now normally a drunken guy checking out the butt would have gotten a sigh and teeth kiss  but by now we had switched onto strawberry vodka cocktails (much better) and I was bored as one of the guys we had come with was a bit weird. Long story short, American.

Cute guy was funny. He told me that he had a big cock. That he loved big butts, that he could lick p**sy for hours and would turn me inside out. I had to admit that his bragging was hysterically funny. He asked my friend to put in a good word for him. He had no shame. Had I met my match?

But alas I have been here before. I was slightly concerned to see that he managed to fit in 3 more last minute plays whilst the lights were on but hey, he was too drunk to reprimand.

Then he called. First from an unknown number. I told him that it wasn’t kosher. I assume you’re looking for money or are from Foxtons. (Do those people never give up?) I can’t be dealing with unknown numbers. He said that this was how his phone works. Now men are easy when their guards are down. I found out the following in one phone call

1)      He’s got 2 children and is 30 years old.

2)       He lives with the baby mother as he refuses to call her his partner in Kent!

3)      He also has a bachelor pad for when he needs time alone

4)      He has a big cock

5)      He has a big ego

4 and 5 may be the same thing, I’m not sure yet.

My thing is this ladies…men lie a lot in clubs, in the work place….let’s just say everywhere. Best sometimes you go along with the stories and then ask the questions that are important. He’s a cutie yes but a cutie with baggage. And he’s always calling from his car? Baby mother my arse.

Any hoo it passed the time at the bar and I learned never to buy prosecco at a vodka bar. But for me? Not the one.

© Chelsea Black


Chelsea Black is a writer. Romantically seeking her Fubo (future boyfriend) she often gets distracted by misadventures. She is currently working on her second book, first baby (sperm to be confirmed) and first real career. Chocolate and cocktails are food groups