Alright, to catch you up before I head off to bed. Kathrine scored me a ticket to the England v Belgium soccer match yesterday. I was cheering for Belgium because between the two countries, Belgium sits closest to Germany which is where I was born (and next on my list of 30 day tours). Anyway, I was sitting there just in awe of the fans. These folks sang, and cheered, and drank like nobody’s business. I wish I could talk expertly about the nuances of the game but short of telling you there were these guys who did these really amazing things with their feet and such (I think that’s called dribbling), I’m at a loss (as was Belgium I’m sorry to say).
There was this guy though. At half-time or whatever the Brits call that break in the middle of what I swear is the longest 90+ minutes of sports play on the planet. I’m just sitting there enjoying the relative quiet as most of the crowd has gone to the bathroom or to buy more ale or stout or whatever (Kathrine and her “mates” promised to give me the low down on the British beer scene), I get a strong tap on my shoulder. Not the knee in my back kind that I’d been getting all during the first half of the match, but a four-fingered deliberate, “excuse me” kind of deal. I turn around and bam.
“Who ya cheering for love?”
Yes, he actually said, “love”. It was all I could do not to laugh out loud. But then I really looked at him and well the laughter died. He was beautiful. Period. I’m not sure what his ancestry is but whatever the influence it came together nicely in strong features, smooth caramel colored skin, curly hair cut close and a goatee so sharply groomed it looked drawn on. His eyes were a chocolate lovers dream. I’d like to say my response was something witty or charming, but no. All I said was, “wow.” If you’re at all into British music, look up Craig David. That’ll give you an idea of what I was looking at. Whew.
He laughed I think. Then asked me again who I was cheering for. I blurted out Belgium and he laughed again. Said something about it not being smart to admit to that out loud seeing as how I was surrounded by fans of the Three Lions. I just nodded, said something about having to be the odd duck in the crowd then went back to my slack-jawed staring. He might have said something else, but right then his friends came back from the loo and the beer stand (I’m assuming the first part, the second part was confirmed by the large plastic cups filled with dark brown liquid sporting thick heads of foam). The game started, the crowd went back to cheering, drinking, and the occasional song. I went back to secretly cheering for Belgium while thanking the Universe for providing the star of my next few years of fantasies.
And in case you were wondering. He did talk to me after the game. His name is Dominic, Dom for short. He stands a whopping six feet, ten inches tall. I got his number, he told me to call him as soon as I knew where Kathy and I were hanging out later. So of course, no sooner than I’m in Katherine’s car – hold that thought. Let me tell you a little bit about Wembley stadium where the match was held. First of all, it’s freakin’ huge. As in, “OMG, I’m never going to be able to find my way out of here” huge. I am grateful for cell phones because it took me almost a half hour to find Katherine who was giving me directions while waiting for me in one of the gajillion parking lots surrounding the place. Had it not been for Dom and his friends helping me navigate my way out, I might not ever have found her.
Anyway, so once I’m safely in Katherine’s car, I begin babbling about Dominic. She encourages me to invite him out with us that night. She tells me we’re going to Fabric. Much like the place she took me the first night I was in town (a “quaint” monster of a spot called Ministry of Sound). I figured what the hell and called him. He said he and his mates would love to join us. He tossed in a, “really can’t wait to see you again, love.” And I just about dropped my phone.
The club was AMAZING. No wait, have to use one of the phrases I learned last night, the club was “bloody brill”. Somehow I don’t think I used that right, but whatever. In American, that place was off the flippin’ chain. Where we were on the dance floor, you could feel the freakin’ base coming up through the floor as if it were running through your bones. My heart beat was confused and doing these stutter beats in time to the music I swear. Could have been because of Dominic too…
Apparently Fabric gets “bloody” crowded (giggle) so Kathrine , myself and four of her friends were meeting up with Dominic and his friends around 10:00 pm. When we got to the front door Dominic and his friends were already “queued up”. OMG that man is beautiful. His friends, Roger and Ben are cute too, which made Katherine and her one single friend Jessica happy campers.
We got drinks, then they showed me around the place. After the grand tour – I’m telling you, took us 20 minutes just to get around the entire interior. We got another round of drinks and settled for a spot on the dance floor. The rest of the night? Well, Dominic is a great dancer, we like a lot of the same movies, music, books, and food. He’s not a
fan of the US but says I might just be the thing to change his mind. He was “chattin’ me up” something fierce in between working me out on the dance floor and I loved every minute of it.
We hugged good night or rather good morning before everyone split up to go their cars. He made me promise to call him tonight as soon as I woke up, so…now that you’re all caught up. I’m going to hop off and get some sleep so I can hurry up and get to the part where I call him. Just thinking about him makes me giggle.
Did I mention how much I LOVE London?