Manchester is not exactly a city of love and let's be honest, nightclubs are not exactly places to go to find love. Like Ed Sheeran sings "the club isn't the best place to find a lover" etc etc. So this isn't a story about love so don't get your hopes up. I say "romance" in the loosest term possible.
There's a nightclub in Manchester called Factory. Sweaty and hot, there are three floors of charts, indie and the proper bass line house music that only idiots spend four hours in the middle of the night listening to. As sophisticated and slightly drunk (I say slightly also in the loosest term possible) adult students, we spent three hours on the indie floor, as can be expected. Also as the know-it-alls we are, we decided hanging out near the door to the floor would be the best idea ever. I also say this heavily loaded with sarcasm. We did this in another nightclub too, and another a few nights later. Still we hadn't learned our lesson. All I can say is, never ever decide to dance enthusiastically to Town Called Malice near the door of a nightclub. Drunk teenagers young adults are aggressive when you're in their way.
Something you should definitely know about me before I continue is that in general, I fall in love with people on a daily basis. We're talking maybe five to eight people, boys and girls, at any random points throughout the day. They could be walking down the street or sitting opposite me on the bus and I'll just fall in love with something about them - their hair, their eyes, their outfit, their entire aesthetic...you get the idea. I don't mean it in a creepy way, I just have extremely intense feelings towards someone for the thirty seconds they're opposite me, and then as soon as they've gone, it's over and the feelings melt away with the person, most likely never to be seen again. So you can imagine how I get when I've had a few glasses of wine. Not only do I fall in love with many people in a nightclub, I make it extremely obvious in a way that my sober self definitely does not. I also fall in love with ten times as many people, because, and if anyone's ever heard the phrase "beer goggles" you'll know exactly what I mean, people often seem prettier than they are in the dark and when you've had a bit to drink.
So you can imagine the scene. This guy with his group of friends come up to my group of friends and they start dancing with us.
"He's cute," I think to myself. "In a sort of 2000s emo way." No part of this felt wrong to me.
He starts putting his hands on my waist and I go along with it even though this close I'm beginning to realise he smells a bit, mostly of body odour and beer which I'm sure every other guy in there smelled of too, but it was slightly overpowering in a very unattractive way.
"What university are you at?!" he shouts in my ear. It sounds aggressive but if you've ever tried to have a conversation with someone in a nightclub you'll know that it's damn near impossible. Hence why the club isn't the best place to find a lover.
"Manchester Metropolitan!" I shout back to him. He smiles and nods, asserting the fact that he is at the same university as me. He asks me what I study, I answer English because English and Creative Writing is way too long and complicated for someone to understand through nightclub shouts. I don't remember what he said he studied.
We dance a bit longer, I'm getting happy because one of my favourite songs, Come On Eileen, had just started playing. The guy is smiling at me and laughing and still has his hands on my waist. I think back to it now and they were extremely sweaty.
Then he leans in again and says, "I'm not going to force anything but if you want to - you know."
Everyone knows what you know means. So I did. I accepted his offer of you know and leaned up to press my lips against his. I don't really remember it much except that it was kind of wet and there were a lot of teeth. And that's how my first snog in Manchester went. A simple offer of you know.
He leans down after another song (at least, I thought it was only a song - apparently me and my "friend" were going at it for three. That's a long time).
"Do you want to come back to mine tonight?"
The ever fateful question. The offer of you know and more. I didn't make a decision there and then.
"My dad's coming really early tomorrow morning, I don't think so!" I shout back. It's not a lie - my dad is due at mine at 9:30 the next morning.
He shrugs and smiles. "I'll come to yours then!" He seems keen, I thought to myself.
Me being me, the first thing that popped into my head was contraception. I haven't quite got around to getting any condoms yet because honestly I'm too awkward to, and I'm not on the Pill because the side effects scare me too much. And I am super paranoid about STDs anyway so the only contraception I'll be using is condoms, thank you very much.
"That's okay!" He began shouting back. Immediately I started saying no way Hozay, I am not doing it and relying on your pull out game. "I've got some with me!" he continued.
Alarm bells started ringing even more vigorously. What guy carries condoms on a night out with him who ISN'T expecting to take a girl back with them?! So obviously, there was nothing about me, I was just the first girl to take an interest in him and he only really wanted one thing out of it all.
"It'd also be my first time!" I decided to pull out the virginity card. I made up my mind as soon as he said he had condoms with him. Anything to get away from him now. Again not a lie. Then, I noticed a girl we'd been hanging out with that night needed someone to go outside for a cigarette with her, so obviously, I needed an excuse (my desperation was at a point where I was about to text my flatmate to come up with a great excuse for me to leave) so outside I went with her, telling the guy I'd be back. I wouldn't. Not to him anyway.
But what do you know, friends, he followed us outside. Under the pretence of having a cigarette too, obviously. And let me tell you - I didn't realise quite how unattractive I found him until I saw him under a street light and slightly more sober than I had been.
But by that point it was too late - my lipstick was already on his mouth, my friends were questioning my choices and Come On Eileen now had an entirely new memory attached to it. And now my sober mind was going through everything wrong. His hands were sweaty on my bare skin, his stupid stubble was way too rough on my lips and his breath smelled of awfully cheap stale nightclub beer. I noticed his earring, one of those weird stretcher things, and I wanted to ask had it hurt to have it done but somehow it did not seem like the right moment.
The day after I went on the anti-Brexit march with my dad and sister and we didn't mention the guy. I didn't mention him at all. However, I spent the Sunday night at a friend's house and the guy was brought up.
"What were you thinking?" he laughed to me. "That emo fringe and - "
"The stretcher!!" I laughed back, not even being able to believe myself. "At least it wasn't for very long, I guess."
"Not very long?" he raised an eyebrow at me. "You were full on going for it for about three songs, every time we looked over you were still at it."
I buried my face in my hands, absolutely mortified.
He hasn't been mentioned since.
Thank. God.
*
So friends, there is my first romance in Manchester. You can understand why I say it's romance in the loosest term possible.
Have you ever made any terrible mistakes while you've been out and tipsy?! Let me know in the comments below!
Emilia xx
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