I thought I’d fill you in on one of my sordid little Bingo Box ticking tales of yore. It is Friday after all, so I’m not expecting anything that interesting to crop up today!
You may remember that when Nicole and I began our Ensemble Bingo Game we awarded ourselves points for previous conquests, just for funsies. So here you go;
A while ago I was working for peanuts in a theatre in London (as I did for years and years and years before I got this job and a salary that covers more than just rent) and I’d just broken up with a guy who had been a bit of a cock to me the whole time we’d been together. I sure know how to pick em! I’d tick a box for him but since he’s actually not that talented he’s never made it into a proper show. HAHA! Twat.
Anywho, after the show one night I was more than a little bit inebriated in the pub with my friends, when The Dancer showed up with his sweaty cast mates. We’d flirted for quite a while (although I did fancy his flatmate more… but that’s another story) and he’d once made the fatal mistake of telling me he wasn’t much of a ‘Boob Man’. I took this as a personal insult and told him it was because he hadn’t seen mine yet!
After much flirting at the bar (which happened quite a lot, so in hindsight my judgement in this situation may have been slightly impaired) our two tables finally mingled.
Much later, he said something about having to leave before the last tube, which is when I realised I had no money on my oyster card and that I’d been supposed to go top it up before it got too late and the station closed. So… when he left, I went with him to top up my card.
We got to the station, and he asked if I was getting the central line. I said no, I was intending on staying out later so I’d get a night bus. Not to mention the fact that I didn’t actually live on the central line at the time, to which he replied;
“Well, I wasn’t thinking about going to your house,”
Crikey! So that was his game. Awkwardness ensued, during which time I was genuinely counting back the days since I’d last got a wax to see if I could justify going home with a man who had ‘full body wax’ and ‘spray tan’ written into his contract.
I had a momentary crisis of conscience and decided that I should go back to the pub. We said goodbye and I was halfway up the stairs out of the station when I thought; ‘What the heck am I doing?’ and ran straight back down and through the barriers, down the escalator and onto the platform.
I couldn’t see him at first and panicked, thinking he had already got on a train and I’d wasted £1.50 of precious travel money (which was a lot of money back then!) when I spotted him at the end of the platform. His jaw dropped when he saw me – I don’t think he actually thought I would do it.
Never underestimate Ritzi, Dancer Man! (Just realised I sounded like Katie Price then… ew) On the way back to his place the conversation was a bit awkward and tentative, but once we’d got back and started making out… well it got slightly less awkward!
There was actually a film on in the background, but I couldn’t tell you what it was. Before then I’d never really had what I would call a ‘classy’ one night stand, as in being able to go back to a guys clean and tidy house as opposed to stumbling drunkenly into his student dorm, so it was all very exciting. He kissed a bit like he was trying to eat my face off, but every silver lining has it’s cloud, right?
So, cut to an hour later, and there’s a very naked Dancer Man on top of me. Anyone out there who’s thinking that dancers are all gay and scrawny need to take a step inside this mental image and do a double take please. This guy was muscle personified, he spent 8 shows a week chucking dancer girls around (who admittedly weigh as much as 1/2 a bag of flour but you get my point) and part of his contract was that he had to stay, well, buff. We’re talking six pack, perfect arse, those adonis muscles… smooth and chiselled like an actual Ken Doll.
The sex was unbelievable, kind of like the sort of thing that you see on Sex and the City and you wonder if anyone actually gets to sleep with men who are that good. They do. And I did.
But this is the best bit, during what could only be descibed as a breather, I noticed a box of tissues on his bedside table, but these were not ordinary tissues. They still had a ribbon around them, and a tag that said ‘with love from your secret santa’.
On the side of the box, in BIG flourescent letters were the words; ‘Wank Tissues’. Hmm, did the lonely Dancer Boy enjoy his own company a little too often? Later on I delighted in using them for their assigned purpose, and I think The Dancer was a bit too light headed at the time to realise why I found it so funny.
After that night I found out he’d been carrying on with a girl from wardrobe, and it didn’t bother me all that much since I wasn’t exactly looking for a relationship then. However, it did peeve me a little when he asked me not to tell anyone what had happened, even though people had clearly seen us leaving together! Lesson learned : The Dancer may be pretty, but he’s still capable of being a prick!
I did tell people, however. Not his wardrobe girl, that would be mean. Besides, I think he messed that one up by himself anyway.
It does go down in history as the BEST SEX I’VE EVER HAD, but that’s about all it was.
And that is how the first Ensemble Bingo box was ticked.
Well, that’s all for today folks. The Dancer is now living it up on Cruise Ship somewhere in the med, and I wish him well. I certainly don’t hope he runs into an unfortunately placed iceberg or anything like that…
Until next time!