I was in Coventry for weekend to visit a friend, Kate. Compared to London, this is a sleepy little town. It’s the kind of place that’s nice and quaint but if I stayed too long I’d probably be murdered by white supremacists.
First, we went to a cozy little pub for a proper English dinner, steak and ale pie with a couple of pints of Carling. I was a bit nervous because we were with her lesbian friends. For whatever reason I’m sometimes afraid of lesbians. I guess it’s like when white people say they are afraid of black people. Or maybe it’s because I was once dumped by a girl for another girl. Sure, it sounds hot on paper but it also meant I couldn’t have sex with her anymore.
Fortunately these girls were lovely (and hot).
After dinner, we went back to Kate’s to drink cheap wine before going out. I’m not sure why but I keep forgetting that I can’t drink. After two glasses of wine, I was trashed.
We headed to a club where it was £1 drinks. I think. It was all a blur at this stage. I do remember making friends with some guys who seemed to have just hit puberty and dressed like they were just in an Eminem music video. They asked me what religion I was. I always find this such a bizarre question to ask someone. Why would anyone care what religion someone was in a club? Were these guys Mormons in disguise, trying to save my soul before the rapture?
As far as interesting conversation topics are concerned, asking someone what religion they are ranks somewhere in between talking about lint stuck in ones anal cavity and anecdotes about flossing. I told my new friends that I used to be part of the KKK but had to leave due to a conflict of interest and I’m now currently in between religions.
I quickly returned to my group. For some reason the lesbians appeared to have multiplied. There seems to be a disproportionately high number of lesbians in Coventry. And I can’t blame them if best icebreaker men can do is talk about religion.
After a few more drinks, I forgot one of the girls wasn’t straight and decided that I was in love with her. I then proceeded to attract her the best way I knew how: dancing haphazardly and slurring into her ear. If there were any doubts about her sexuality before, I probably removed them all.
The night wasn’t a total loss however. This venue was cheesy enough to have not one but two stripper poles. And I was drunk enough not recognize them as stripper poles but hallucinating that they were merry-go-rounds without the horses.
I proceeded to run around the poles as fast as I could, imagining I was on a ride. It was loads of fun. I think if I did ever open a club, I’d want to have lots of carnival activities in there.
What’s your religion? Do you have an anecdote about flossing?