One morning, after a particularly long and intense night at Fabric (club) in London, I found myself rolling in bed at 11am. I had loads of energy and nothing to do that day, so I decided to pull up tinder. After a minute of swiping, I was chatting to couple of girls, and attempting to make an immediate plan. I knew I would come back down to earth eventually, so I wanted to do something sooner than later. After generally asking them what they were up to that day, one mentioned she intended to go see a play around 1:30. I asked, "What are we seeing?", bought a ticket, and arranged to meet her outside the theater. It was already approaching noon by the time that was all said and done, so after a quick shower and 2 irish coffees, I was in the tube headed north.
I could feel a faint sense of fading as I walked up the street, but she was cute and seemed nice, so we headed in to the cafe for some pre-play tea and talk. Between the tea and the coffee, I was back to feeling reasonably OK, and figured this would go alright.
Some relevant background up to this point: I hadn't slept since roughly 10a Saturday and had only gone down around 7a. I hadn't eaten since 6p Saturday, when I grabbed a sandwich from Tesco when we were buying beer. I danced continuously from 12a Sunday until 9a.
Into the theater we go. It's an incredibly small theater with a set that's the inside of a barn. We're on the front row, so I my feet encroach into the stage area when they're outstretched and the actors are often only a few feet away.
That play fucking wrecked me. I was already starting to fall apart from the sleep deprivation and lack of food. It was about a British WWI defector being captured and held for trial with the likely outcome being death. The prisoners brother was involved as an officer, which made things even more gut-wrenching. There was eventually rape, murder, and suicide all played out 4 feet from me by an award winning cast. I fucking lost it. I was crying. Mentally, I was in shambles. My body hurt. It was the worst.
...and she fucking ate that shit up.
When we left, I couldn't even put a sentence together. I just kept repeating, "That was intense" like a trauma victim. Somehow through all of this we made out a bunch of times, and were continuing to do so back out in the street.
She ended up inviting me back, and I lied that I had to rush to go meet a friend for the NFL in London game that night. She gave me the biggest, "Seriously, you're not going to fuck me?" look I've ever received in my life.
I pretended to walk towards the tube that would take me to wembley until I saw her disappear from site... at that point I doubled back to five guys, pounded a delicious burger and some cajun fries, then went home and slept until work the next morning.