Drag on at the Dragon

So last night I wasn't going to go anywhere. I popped out to pick up some instant noodles at Spar (cue Bepe's vocal disapproval: "You will die young and fat if you keep eating that American rubbish) when I bumped into this girl I slightly know from TCD library. As in, I didn't know her name until last night but I had met her in the shelves poring over a Bram Stoker bio and we had had a few words.

"I was just going for a drink," she said (we'll call her "Belle" for the purposes of this blog. "Wanna come?"

I told her I didn't have any money but she said she'd stand me a drink and I could catch her the next time. She told me she was going to The Dragon.

"Isn't that a gay bar?" I asked, to which she said, "Well, kinda, but everyone goes because the music is rocking and the decor is really cool."

The decor is really cool, I'll give it that. But I don't usually like gay bars and the reason why is this: Way too many gay men are really, really good-looking and it's just not fair and it is not nice being around all those gorgeous hunks of man-flesh and knowing that all their eyes are for each other and not for me. It's demoralising and it's like being in an ice-cream parlour and being told to ignore all those FABULOUS flavous and here, just gnaw on this hank of withering broccoli.

Anyway. So we went. And it was fun. I had a mojito. (Not bad although I think they are better in the Gypsy Tea Room back home). The music, while not the mildly depressing stuff I generally prefer, was great. So much so that after knocking back a mojito, I got up to dance. So did Belle. And we were having a great time, until I noticed several people looking at us with "what a cute little couple" expressions. So I went up to the bar and got a glass of water. Belle wanted to know why I had stopped dancing and suddenly doubt filled my mind. Was I on a date? How could I tell? At what point does a drink in a gay bar with a pretty girl stop being just a drink and become a date you hadn't really counted on? Well, I went home shortly after that although we arranged to go to Cafe Bar Deli for pizza when I get back from my camping trip next week as I didn't want her to think that I thought that she thought...well you get the picture.

So now I am planning my camping trip. I still need a tent, but I've already spent my entire budget for July and am eating into August's money. I need to get a part-time job, seriously. I will address this issue in August when hopefully some of the other 450,000 job seekers will have collapsed into apathy.


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