Went out tonight and it was my first night out as 'single girl' ( this is not the same as 'gagging for a shag girl'. ETA of that is about 3 months away) I was scared. I was going to an unknown part of London, to an event where I knew no-one with a mate who wouldn't be arriving for at least an hour after me.
It rocked. OK, at first, it sucked. I turned up, bought a beer, looked round feeling lost and recognising no-one. Then noticed the sign reading 'private party' on the door in the far corner and felt like an utter tit for not noticing it.
Walked downstairs with my pint.
'Are you here for the book launch?' asked the foxy bird at the door.
'Yes.'
'Shame you've got a drink - we've got free champagne.'
I cursed myself mentally. Lager is good. But champagne - free champagne - is better.
It was rammed. I still recognised no-one. I saw a spare seat.
'Mind if I sit here?'
The people surrounding the seat shrugged.
I sat down and felt shite. Then took off my coat and jacket to reveal my Cliterati T-shirt. Worn because I've used the broken hearted excuse to avoid all domesticity thus the only wearable tops I had were the T-shirts I haven't yet sent to our stockists or the frankly manky tops I've yet to wash in the wash-basket.
I went for the option that didn't involve washing a top in the sink and blowdrying it (where the hell is my hairdryer anyway?)
I love Cliterati T-shirts. Suddenly, people talked to me.
'Do you work for Cliterati? I love the site.'
'Are you Emily? I've been meaning to mail you for ages.'
Ended up having ace conversations with the woman who set up the Sex Workers Union, a woman who wants to set up a sex mag for women, a couple of people from Coco de Mer, the marketing manager for Television X and Anna Span (whose launch it was; she's Britain's foremost female porn producer and a top laugh. Oh, and has just written a book on how to make good porn flicks at home. Which is what she was launching.)
One of the blokes she used for the pics in the book did stuff for the Lovers' Guide shoot I art directed. It was weird looking through a book and seeing him doing pervy things. When I art directed him, it was work. In her book, he was just a frankly rather fit bloke.
My mate turned up at 9pm and we had a great chat. He was happy, surrounded by porntastic birds. And was good to see him again.
Got a cab back and had a cool chat with the cabbie. Well, I thought it was cool. But I was pissed. It was probably shite.
Maybe being single doesn't suck so much after all.