The title suggests that I'll post about my adventures, so here goes:
As a newly single, fun-loving girl, I'm enjoying the freedom of heading out of a Friday/Saturday night and having some good ol'-fashioned fun.
A couple of Friday nights ago, this was my intention. Had it lined to up to catch up with a friend after he'd been to the football, so I had a couple of beverages at Friday afternoon work drinks, then headed home to re-energise, have a few more 'pre-night-out' beverages and pretty myself up.
Football finishes, I call friend to organise the catch-up, don't get a response, decide to head in anyway. Call friend while on bus, and am told he'll be an hour (at this point, I'm about 10 minutes away from the city). Advise him that I'm not impressed by this, and it's agreed that we'll meet in half an hour. Sweet, we're on. Bring on the night's fun.
I get to the city. I wait. I try to call, the phone keeps ringing out. Call some more, finally someone picks up, but I quickly realise it's not him and crack the shits. Whoever it was that actually answered that call got a fine display of my ability to swear like a trucker when in the right mood. Such a lady.
At this point, I've been wandering around the city for over half an hour, my feet are killing me (but gosh the shoes are cute!) and the alcohol is beginning to wear off. Not good.
Knowing that Friend is not going to show, I head back to the buses and am delighted to see that there's one there waiting. Disgruntled, disappointed and disillusioned, I decide to call another friend. Immediately I'm cheered by his delightful English voice, and he tells me that he's thinking about going out. Sweet. We line it up for me to call him back in half an hour.
Twenty minutes later (I'm somewhat impatient by this point and just want to have a night out!!!) I call him. As we're chatting away, I go to cross a main intersection near my house (yes, the little green man is lit up) and am nearly hit by a car. Trucker Mouth overtakes me once again, much to the amusement of English Boy on the other end of the phone.
By this point, I'm fairly certain that I was not meant to go out this particular Friday night, and decide to call it a night.
Saturday rolls around .. actually, it was Saturday by the time I actually got to bed, but I digress .. and I'm determined that after the dramas of the night before I WILL go out and I WILL have a good night. However, I'm lacking in people to partake in festivities with. Hmm.
Coffee and overly indulgent caramel slice with a friend, and she texts one of hers trying to line me up a 'party buddy'. Further texting to as many people I can find in my phone that may be interested as possible, and I'm still without a 'party buddy'.
I summon up the courage, and decide that I will make a night of it anyway. Yes. On. My. Own.
Totally not my style. I'm normally quite shy, until I'm out and having fun. Not bold and adventurous. Until now.
So I do it. I head out. It's about 10pm when I leave home, and I don't get home until 10.30am the next day. High five to me.
Turns out going out solo is a load of fun. Will I do it again? Maybe. Who knows. This particular evening was quite successful, made new friends to hang out with for the night, had the interest of a rather attractive guy. Wins all round.
'twas a fun and adventurous Saturday night for a girl who not long ago would always spend her Saturday nights at home doing not much.
More adventures to be had this Saturday night. If you're lucky, I'll even share.
xx
As a newly single, fun-loving girl, I'm enjoying the freedom of heading out of a Friday/Saturday night and having some good ol'-fashioned fun.
A couple of Friday nights ago, this was my intention. Had it lined to up to catch up with a friend after he'd been to the football, so I had a couple of beverages at Friday afternoon work drinks, then headed home to re-energise, have a few more 'pre-night-out' beverages and pretty myself up.
Football finishes, I call friend to organise the catch-up, don't get a response, decide to head in anyway. Call friend while on bus, and am told he'll be an hour (at this point, I'm about 10 minutes away from the city). Advise him that I'm not impressed by this, and it's agreed that we'll meet in half an hour. Sweet, we're on. Bring on the night's fun.
I get to the city. I wait. I try to call, the phone keeps ringing out. Call some more, finally someone picks up, but I quickly realise it's not him and crack the shits. Whoever it was that actually answered that call got a fine display of my ability to swear like a trucker when in the right mood. Such a lady.
At this point, I've been wandering around the city for over half an hour, my feet are killing me (but gosh the shoes are cute!) and the alcohol is beginning to wear off. Not good.
Knowing that Friend is not going to show, I head back to the buses and am delighted to see that there's one there waiting. Disgruntled, disappointed and disillusioned, I decide to call another friend. Immediately I'm cheered by his delightful English voice, and he tells me that he's thinking about going out. Sweet. We line it up for me to call him back in half an hour.
Twenty minutes later (I'm somewhat impatient by this point and just want to have a night out!!!) I call him. As we're chatting away, I go to cross a main intersection near my house (yes, the little green man is lit up) and am nearly hit by a car. Trucker Mouth overtakes me once again, much to the amusement of English Boy on the other end of the phone.
By this point, I'm fairly certain that I was not meant to go out this particular Friday night, and decide to call it a night.
Saturday rolls around .. actually, it was Saturday by the time I actually got to bed, but I digress .. and I'm determined that after the dramas of the night before I WILL go out and I WILL have a good night. However, I'm lacking in people to partake in festivities with. Hmm.
Coffee and overly indulgent caramel slice with a friend, and she texts one of hers trying to line me up a 'party buddy'. Further texting to as many people I can find in my phone that may be interested as possible, and I'm still without a 'party buddy'.
I summon up the courage, and decide that I will make a night of it anyway. Yes. On. My. Own.
Totally not my style. I'm normally quite shy, until I'm out and having fun. Not bold and adventurous. Until now.
So I do it. I head out. It's about 10pm when I leave home, and I don't get home until 10.30am the next day. High five to me.
Turns out going out solo is a load of fun. Will I do it again? Maybe. Who knows. This particular evening was quite successful, made new friends to hang out with for the night, had the interest of a rather attractive guy. Wins all round.
'twas a fun and adventurous Saturday night for a girl who not long ago would always spend her Saturday nights at home doing not much.
More adventures to be had this Saturday night. If you're lucky, I'll even share.
xx
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