The tipsy point

So the other night I was out and about. It was a picnic bbq but the grill didn’t go on until 7pm. Yeah, African time. I wasn’t impressed. A severe lack of food (this is a lie, I had my body weight in snacks) made me cold so I put my leggings on under my dress. Around me the young men danced and cracked jokes…..with each other.

There is a tipping point or a tipsy point where a man has drunk just enough to be able to talk to new women. On this night the tipsy point was 10pm. The food had settled and so had the Jameson’s carried in a shoe box. (Don’t ask, I just don’t know)

I went to say good bye to my future baby daddy (that’s a whole other blog) and nearly tripped over this short somebody who looked eager to talk. He was short…and a somebody. I’d seen him taking up about a third of the dance floor with his enthusiastic township moves. This wasn’t going to go well. He said something about me putting on leggings and laughed at his own joke. Sigh. I hate being cruel so I gave him my number. At least he noticed that my outfit had changed

This proved to be a mistake. Some 2 hours later he drunken dialled me under the premise that he was checking that I got home safely thereby establishing that he could now call me after midnight. Of course if I hadn’t gotten home safely it’s unclear as to what he planned to do about it? He then announced that he would be leaving the country for a month but that when he got back he’d be ready to deal with me?

As a former drunken dialler I let it go. We’ve all been there and regretted it in the morning. But no, the next day I got annoying whatsapp messages asking me what I was doing. Chilling wasn’t enough he wanted details. He told me again that he was leaving for a month. I was supposed to care. I really didn’t . It was a pity number take and now I was getting annoyed. He was an avid gooner. This didn’t help as he insisted on cussing my team whilst bigging up his. I told him that our value system is clearly not the same. He thought I was joking. But seriously, your attitude to the Premiership tells me a lot about you.

I want to say that it got better but it didn’t. The conversation got more and more painful. He kept interjecting with “Yur funny. Yu funny girl yu” Do we really need to miss out the o? Then he told me that I was too clever. Wait, it was to clever. I really can’t with bad texting with no rapport.

I told him that at 32 he was really 25 and therefore a tad to young for him. He didn’t understand the concept of man years and dog years and went back to lolling at me. I hate lolling without backup.

Eventually I told him to have a safe trip. Of course when he gets back in a month I’ll have a new man and it will be serious because I can’t spend half a day explaining to a dude why chilling means exactly that. I’m not a comedian for his laughing pleasure and I’m not, I repeat, not to clever.

And no, my future baby daddy hasn’t rung me. But that my precious is a whole other blog.

© Chelsea Black 2014