It's not a date

A few weeks ago I stood outside Brixton Academy at 3am; my phone battery was seconds from dying and my sister was still stumbling around inside, giggling manically and trying to remember how to walk. Our other friend had gone home and the venue was emptying rapidly, a sea of people spilling out of the doors and onto the pavement.

"You look like you need a hug" a tall bloke walked towards me with a concerned look on his face, arms outstetched. Oh well, I thought, when in Brixton... and gratefully accepted the slightly damp embrace. His friend appeared and so I hugged him too. They wondered off, and I continued to wait.

A few minutes later, they came back, more hugs were exchanged and we started chatting. "Blimey," I said. "You're tall" before instantly regretting it. Of course he's tall. He knows he's tall. How annoying must it be when people point out the obvious? "Sorry, you know you're tall. I bet that's really annoying when people do that"

At that moment, having remastered the art of speech and mobility, my sister appeared, bounding out onto the pavement. "FUCKING HELL! Alright up there? What are you, about eight foot?" before bursting into hysterics for about an hour. Meanwhile, the rest of us carried on chatting. Ladies and gentlemen: don't do drugs.

Anyway, the long and the short of it is that he accepted my drunken "Let's be friends!" offer (really) and we swapped numbers. Since then, sporadic texting has ensued. Very sporadic. As in, I'd get a text asking if I wanted to go for a beer, I'd reply saying yes, when? And get nothing back for over a week. I'd pretty much written it off - after all, what do I know about this bloke? He's 24, really tall and lives in Clapham. He climbed Ben Nevis a couple of weeks ago, probably in one stride. He likes the Prodigy. Err...oh, and his sister has a cat.

Then late on Saturday night while watching one of the worst DVDs I've ever contributed £0.70p towards, my phone beeped.

I went back to Brixton tonight to see The Specials. Top gig. You out n about?

No, I'm mourning the last 90 minutes of my life which I'll never get back.

Was it superbad? I'm home watching a film too. May have a frankfurter. Thursday..beer?

Thursday I can do.

Let's have that beer somewhere central. See you Thursday x

Now, let's get this straight. I just thought this bloke seemed alright at 3am outside a Prodigy concert, five pints down. It's not a date. Plus this whole "lets go for a beer" thing has been going on since mid April, so there's hardly any real urgency on either side. It's just a meeting between two people who actually don't know a thing about each other. He could be a murderer or a mentalist for all I know.

Also, when's a good time to let him know that I don't actually like beer?