Disclaimer: I’m pretty sure this was a LOT more entertaining in the living than in the telling. But I’m going to tell it anyway.
Six women, all in our thirties – we should know how to behave, right?
Or maybe not…
I’ll skip through the dinner at Simply Asia (where ordering Mild food gets you eye watering HOT food, albeit yummy) and the rooftop partay-ing at the Grand Daddy (where I was dubbed ‘voucher girl’ by the barman for the very good reason that drinks were on my winning R200 bar tab, and where we tried to score free cupcakes but failed) and head straight on to the Obs live gig.
The 2 man line up consisted of Snog Snoggery (not his real name. In case you were wondering) playing his guitar, and then there was the Other Man. The one who also played a mean guitar, and seemed, between songs, to be very sweet and lovely. But. The singing.
He started the first song and I honestly thought he was taking the piss. Screwing up his face, bearing his teeth, mewling through the clenched jaw and shaking his head – all of this every 3 lines. We (there were 6 of us in total) were sat in the second row, but at least the lights were dim because within seconds of his opening verse I was doubled over in a paroxysms of silent, un-controllable giggles. Every time I managed to get a grip for a semi second I could hear K next to me wheezing with mirth and see her shoulders shuddering and that was me, floored again. I haven’t had such an intense giggling fit for about 5 years. And when N leaned over the helplessly hysterical K and asked if he was having a seizure that was me gone for the rest of his set. Which was around 30 to 40 minutes long (but seemed eternal).
Great work out for the tummy muscles.
I feel kind of bad, and also like a complete pleb, for this puerile behaviour. But there was no helping it. And, true story, I had only had 2 beers by that point.
But then again, what’s the point of a girls’ night out if you can’t behave like a 10 year old for at least a bit of it? Add to that my swooning over Snog Snoggery’s lovely geeky hippiness and going all weak-kneed when he said hello and put his hand on my arm (I’ll ignore the fact he’d KISSED KT hello and seemed happy to put his hand on anyone’s arm, and was flu-y and was therefore more snotty than snog-worthy) and you have my night out rounded up with a pink ribbon of bad behaviour and silliness.
Oh I nearly forgot about A and me sitting on the couch after the show watching the mating ritual of the lesser Cape Town student types across the room. Always entertaining to watch. Text book body language complete with batting eyelids, hair touching on the girls’ part, while A educated me on the whole ‘why men put their hands in their pockets’ thing. Who knew?
Thanks girls for a good night out.
PS The public toilets were probably the worst I’ve had to use in some time. The basin was full of brown liquid that might have included pee of varying origins. And what was that brown thing dissolving near the plug?