Why do people believe it is fun or enjoyable to take away someone else’s right to have a good night? Went out last night with Amy and her friends Sarah, Marie, Worchep (polish and sure I’m spelling the name wrong), and Worchep’s girlfriend.
Now before I go into detail about what happened I need to give a bit of background.
Marie was the girl I went on a ‘date’ with a few weeks back, and I really enjoyed myself but unfortunately she’s been working hellish hours and so I haven’t seen her for about 3 weeks. So anyway last night was the first time I’d seen her and understandably (I think) I wanted to know where I stood. Anyway on with the story…
We were having an OK night, well I was having a shit night because all I wanted to do was chat with Marie and she was having a good time with Amy and co. so I couldn’t bring myself to just try and get into a conversation with her. So we end up where it seems we always end up, in coyote wild. So things seem to be ok between Marie and myself, I manage to get some time at the bar with her to explain that really don’t know if I can handle only seeing her for one night a month, and that I like her but don’t know what to do! To which she replies “I like you too” (“SCORE” methinks!) then she promptly (and I mean within the time it takes me to drink the drink I bought during above described conversation) starts flirting with a group of guys who are round her like flies on … well on the thing that I felt like at that point.
So anyway I manage to stick around for about one more drink after which I’ve had enough of feeling about an inch high while I watch Marie, not quite understanding what she was trying to do to me (torture felt like a good option at that point). After which I went home and had a quick rant to my housemates and settled into an episode of 24.
Unfortunately it would seem that what I saw, and my interpretation of events was less than the full picture. For after about 5 minutes of 24 (I think Jack had just got to saying “The following takes place between…..”) the front door slams and there is a racket downstairs. I would love to say I was concerned and went downstairs of my own volition but, thinking it was Amy being drunk, I just shouted shut up.
Soon Sarah arrives at the door to the living room looking more than a little worried and explains to me that there is something wrong with Marie! (Doh, I’d just made a personal pledge not to speak to her again too.) So I proceed downstairs to help out with what I was thinking would be a very drunk Marie. But there’s definitely something else up. Considering they left about 5 minutes after me, and I was drinking about drink for drink with Marie, I can safely say she shouldn’t have been that drunk. Sarah and myself proceed to give her a lift home (Sarah does the driving, I do the sitting in the back like a moron thing) and we make sure she’s comfortable (a friend that lives close turns up to look after her).
So turns out that she was drugged at some point (looking back those blokes were awfully eager) with what she things was GB40. Which I still have trouble comprehending.
But what I really eats my noodle is that now I can’t be angry with her!