Windsor Castle has a weird style. The DJ is playing disco after midnight and Sam starts talking about its contemporary validity after I’ve raised an eyebrow. I think disco reached its expiration date decades ago. I say nothing because I don’t know anything about disco. Except the Bee Gees, I think to myself.
I’m at the table and I’m talking to S. on this night. I’m drunk. I’m drinking gins and tonics and I pluralise the contents of that drinks in conversation and I get some laughs. I’m missing out on gems of people. I keep thinking this, I’m self destructive. I destroy chances to talk to people. I’m going to miss out. Miss out on good people. Miss out on good things. I’m not creating a tally of people I know. I don’t need more friends. But I want them. More conversations. I’m restless. Time is fleeting. Cliches sayings are running through my mind and in my drunken stupor, I say some of them aloud and then try to mix them into the conversation we’re having about music. I don’t think the table notices.
H. goes out of his way to tell me Hello and Goodnight. The statements amount to more than he has ever said to me, when we have hung out with the same gang previously. I think to myself. I think, This Is Bullshit and ignore him. My heart is pounding because of the alcohol. At the table, my boyfriend has a long conversation with a tipsy M. who is the cutest person. Keeps saying No More Whiskey but won’t let the bar staff take her glass off her. Cute, very cute.
S. is very into music. We compare our music collections on our phones. Neither respective phone reflects our listening habits, we claim. He is not bashful in his proclamation of love for Linkin Park, which I secretly like.
On an unrelated note, he tries to convince me cats aren’t the Satan’s spawn, but I can’t be persuaded on the matter.
I resigned myself long ago to being the quiet and silent observer in company. I don’t want to be quiet anymore. I want to have more conversations, and I want to be loud, interested and commanding attention. No more wallflower gal.