By Susan Carter
The saga of last week’s welfare drinks cast a shadow over the following few days. The hullabaloo had stemmed from my disgraceful behaviour at Fresher’s drinks, which involved my friend Danny vomiting on the till and me throwing up over the shoulder of Gorgeous Gap Year Fresher.
Pulling chances were at an all time low.
I hadn’t seen Jason for days, when a fleeting glimpse of a golden tan flashed past the door as Danny and I cleaned the bar.
‘Hey! Jason!’ I bellowed, throwing any semblance of playing it cool out of the window.
A wary face peered round the door frame, and I shuffled awkwardly over.
‘I’m really sorry about the other night,’ I grimaced. ‘Err – is your shirt ok?’
‘Most of the stuff came out, but it’s still a little stained.’
‘I’m so sorry. I know there’s not really an excuse for my behaviour –’
‘Oh, I think that we both know the reason behind it.’ His voice was grave; I was confused.
‘Your tute partner told me that you drink a lot – and we think you might have a real problem.’
I slowly realised what ideas the malevolent Pert’n’Perky had been feeding him.
‘No!’ I practically yelled in my haste to correct him. ‘No, no, no! She’s got it all wrong’ – I resisted the urge to drop in a few choice expletives – ‘I’m really not an alcoholic…’
He shook his head solemnly: ‘That’s what they all say.’
I racked my brains for something to convince him. Luckily, Danny came over to place a reassuring hand on my shoulder.
‘Honestly, she’s not,’ he said calmly, extending his arm to shake Jason’s hand. ‘I’m Danny, the LGBT rep, and believe me, I’d have recognised the signs…’
Gorgeous Gap Year Fresher eyed him suspiciously. ‘Weren’t you the other person who threw up in the bar that night?’
Danny didn’t flinch. ‘Yes, mate. Food poisoning.’
There was a tense pause during which each one attempted to out-stare the other, but eventually Jason’s frown relaxed. ‘In fact,’ – Danny was on a roll now – ‘why don’t you come along to the Queer Bop at Wadham on Saturday, and she’ll prove it to you by being completely sober?’
Despite my unwillingness to encounter when sober the gimps, penises and prostitutes that generally frequent Queer Bops, I nodded eagerly. Jason and I, dressed in as few clothes as possible on a sweaty dance floor – who knew what might happen?
‘Well, I suppose I could…’ Gorgeous Gap Year Fresher replied slowly.
Danny and I exchanged a discreet high-five.
Diary of an Oxford Scuzz
