OK, the other day was St. Patrick’s Day and I’m half Irish. On the way out, buzz my friend (he’s with some others, the lot of them can’t pick up shit due to that fact they’re so inhibition ridden and paralyzed by fear). The bad news is they’re in Angel… what the fuck! What happened to Leicester Square? So, we rendezvous in Walkabout, I walk in like a king draped in my ridiculously big Ireland flag. My mate greets me enthusiastically, hadn’t seen him in a while. His girlfriend greets me a lot more enthusiastically, she’s always happy to see me So we bed in and I order some drinks. The girl behind the bars is a 7.5 maybe an 8. We exchange:

Her: Hey, are you from Perth?
Me: No
Her: Oh, I thought you might be
Me: I’m standing her draped in a huge Ireland flag and you think I’m from Perth?
Her: Lol, yeah
Me: No, I’m from lots of different places
Her [smiles]

I order drinks. Tonight I’m not running properly. Feels like the computer is on power on standby setting. Opportunities are taking a while to register. This one registers. She goes to hand me my card while facing the other way, I hold back forcing her to lean in to get close enough to me to hand it, she’s now close enough for me to talk to her again.

Me: When the match finishes are they gonna put on music? [I had spent the last five minutes clowning around, dancing lightly with my mate’s girlfriend to the sounds of the match coming out of the TV, unintentionally drawing attention to myself]
Her: No, we’re just gonna sit here in silence
Me: But than you’d have to shut up everyone who’s talking
Her: Yeah, we will
Me: OK, but not us, only we’ll be allowed to talk and if there’s no music I could sing to you. I’m training to be an opera singer you know [I have no idea where this is coming from. I often talk random nonsense and it normally works, especially with those woman who like “Jack Nicholson crazy” types]
Her: [She smiles at me adoringly]

Great, I’ll pick up with her later. Also noticed an 8 over by the window. White shirt, denim skirt, beautiful black hair, was observing my dancing earlier… she’s another option. 3 second rule! Oooo…. But I need music and it hasn’t come on yet, dam I need to learn some magic tricks.

The next ten minutes is spend listening to my friends girlfriends telling me how great I am, feeling my stomach and telling everyone I just get “hotter and hotter”. This sounds like bragging but it’s not, I’m just sure it’s somehow relevant. At this point we’ve all gotta leave cos one of the eejits we’re with has been kicked out for being too drunk. Motherfucker! The prick was hating on me a little earlier but I deflected it by beaing really arrogant and in his face, that usually works. But anyway, he wasn’t that drunk, the manager was just on a power trip. I should have grabbed the bar girl for 2 minutes and delivered a “you’re really cute and I haven’t had the chance to sing to you yet, you should let me take you out so I can make amends” (this often works for me). Should have, but didn’t. Like I said I was on power and standby mode, blast!

So we head to O’Neills. It’s rammed. We have to leave again, just enough time for two tarts a 7.5 and an 8 to stop whilst my mate’s girlfriend is grabbing onto me telling me how great I am (good job he’s not the jealous type, could try it with her but it just feels wrong and would make a big mess) and admire my huge…. Flag. They want a photo, they get some random guy to take it and he the exchange follows:

Two girls: Wow, that’s the best flag, I love it [everyone in there had one]
Random guy taking photo: Hey, where are you from?
Two girls: [In matter of fact way] London
Random guy: Than what’s with the Irish stuff?
Two girls: My Mum’s from Mayo

Take photo, random guy pisses off

Me: Really? My Mum’s from Dublin
Two girls: Wow, that’s cool [go to leave]
Me: Hold on, I need that photo, you on Facebook?
Two girls: [jump up excitedly] yeah! What’s your name on there?
Me: You’d better tell me yours, my security settings mean you might not find me [my profile is hidden, a couple of my girlfriends have my Email address and if they find me on Facebook and view some of the pics it’ll cause “complications”]

One of them puts her name into my phone and insists her friend will add me as soon as I add her. I tell them my name, my real name and my name on Facebook. They say some shit about it being an interesting name.

We exchange some convo, I use my Irish accent, which is actually dam good, they laugh, we say our goodbyes. We end up in The Pitcher and Piano which is dead so after a while I just go home.

Crap night, boring, very pikey… but I got a Facebook so I can go from there with one of them (not sure which) or maybe both. I’ve found this recently, picking up is like anything you do regularly. If you keep doing it, it becomes involuntary, like changing gears whilst driving, or breathing. I went out last night in a zombified state and before I knew what I was doing I’d picked up.