One night before Christmas a few friends and I were out in the M20 bar in West Didsbury. It was a rare occasion that the DJ was on point and rocking out with some quality tunes. We entered the bar to Jay-Z’s awesome “Empire State of Mind” and people were actually dancing, which is extraordinary. One girl in particular caught my eye with her love of “Sex on Fire” by Kings of Leon when it was played soon after we got in.
As the DJ pumped out tune after tune I kept on referring back to Sex on Fire girl to check out her vibe on the other songs being played on the night. She was loving them, all good! A little later in the evening Amy Winehouse’ version of “Valerie” came on and she took a particular shine to it. I had to try and talk to her so to make a move I danced into her vicinity but couldn’t think of anything to say – gutted. I then caught her eye and the ridiculous words “Is your name Valerie?” flew out of my mouth with all the speed and grace of a frightened racing pigeon. Somehow that ludicrous opening gambit seemed to work as she came back with something and I looked like I was in – result. After a few hours, more dancing, a good bit of music banter and some jagermeister we exchanged numbers and sorted out a date for the following week.
That date went well, talking mainly about music, she really knows her stuff, which I loved. She’d even seen Rage Against the Machine play live, which I was gutted about as I badly want to see them.
The second date, I thought, was sublime. A whole day together in town before Christmas including shopping, ice skating (I was shite, she was good), Christmas markets and mulled wine, snow, normal wine, and an impromptu salsa class. Brilliant! We ended in the evening at my gaff. I remember thinking, “wicked she likes her music a lot, she’ll walk into my lounge and be bowled over by the awesomeness of my CD collection”.
What actually happened was, she walked into my lounge, over to the wall of CD’s like a laser guided missile – great – and homed in on… “White Ladder” by David Gray. Bugger! David “wobbly-head” Gray. ARSE! Over 200 CD’s and the first one she sees is David Gray. I tried to circumnavigate the issue with the world’s weakest argument. I found myself saying “I haven’t listened to it for a while”. I quickly found a decent album and put that on the stereo. We parted ways not long after, on great terms, with the intention of meeting later in the week. Since that day, however, we haven’t met up and there has been a lack of response to my texts. Denied!
A week and a bit later I was thinking about that day and her and what could have gone wrong, as a lesson in what not to do of course. As i was falling asleep in bed it came to me and I sat bolt upright - her reason for being incommunicado. DAVID GRAY!?!?! What a git! I think she thought that the kinda person that has a David Gray might own some James Blunt as well…. its obvious!
Just for the record guys – I do not own any James Blunt, and my copy of White Ladder has been destroyed.
K*
As with most of the great conversations, this was started at the pub. I was out on Boxing Night with old friends Raz and Yvonne, though it was the first time they had met each other. The chat moved onto pulling and it quickly became apparent that Yvonne was unaware for the phrase “Cockblocking” from the verb: to Cockblock………..