Day 5: Best night out?
Remembering my best night out is bittersweet. Memories of how happy we were, how carefree, how daft, how utterly irresponsible. It was Valentines Day and I was on my to meet him for a coffee. Things were confusing, unsure and I was nervous. Half a bottle of gin and half a frozen pizza later and things were great again. Our Valentines feast followed by him teaching me how to use his decks. I was never very good but I wanted to learn. I wanted to feel what he felt, that same passion, that magic behind his eyes. I wanted to understand.
A house party followed. Cava, more gin, unmentionable things. Laughter, mockery, play fighting, fielding questions we didn't know how to answer about how he knew me. About who we were.
And so to the nightclub. Our favourite. The night aptly named 'Valentines Day Massacre'. Loud, pulsating music that reached into your very soul and forced you to dance. And dance we did, until the wee small (big?) hours, entwined in laughter, music and love too, though neither of us would admit it. Falling out into the street afterwards, a sweating mass of happiness, music still ringing in our ears.
Then home. More gin. Him on the decks. My own personal DJ. A post-night out routine that I miss so much. Keeping the party going until the sun rose and the room became filled with light. No sleep. More laughing. The next two days spent in a haze of wine, conversations about anything and everything and intense happiness.
Yeah, that was a pretty good night out.
