I’m sat in a pub with my two best friends and two women.
We’ve had a few drinks, but it’s not raucous or a mess, it’s chilled and relaxed – the only undertone of tension comes from the fact that this is one of the first times that me and best mate A have met the girlfriend of best mate B.
The second woman at the table is the girlfriend’s single, attractive sister.
We are all chatting away politely.
Mate B is happy, we are getting to know his new girlfriend quite well and its all good. Me and mate A are subconsciously aware that her sister is single, gorgeous and ever-so-slightly drunker than the rest of us, but we say nothing.
It’s worth stating that, in a pub table scenario, I’m a complete c*nt…
Actually, I hardly need to add the pub table bit, but I digress.
In a pub table scenario, I’m a complete c*nt, because I’m almost without shame, I instinctively turn up to places with far too much money on me, recklessly buying stupid coloured drinks for people I don’t know, plus I make people laugh until they piss helplessly and then I am crowned the King of f*cking Everything.
It’s what I do.
To his credit, single mate A is also f*cking hilarious, very very funny, but just not as much of a massive tw@t show off as I am and so he’s a little bit quieter in these situations, a little bit more reticent to shout the loudest.
But I can sense him easing his way to the front of the group here, I can feel it.
And who would blame him? Single sister is gorgeous, she’s had a drink – she’s laughing at everything we say and I’m no cock blocker – this is an open market.
Suddenly the conversation turns to sex, as it often does, thus upping the ante quite considerably and opening up a whole new level of competition between me and mate A. However things suddenly move quickly in an unforeseen direction, like a sudden gust of MANGRUNT in the moist air.
Single sister is suddenly explaining in real detail how much she loves sex.
We are captivated.
She is hot and now she is telling us how often she goes out and just has sex with men because she loves it and needs it.
We are f*cking lost in her right now, neither of us sure what to even say or how to say it. She’s telling the table all SORTS of things and she’s plainly indicating to us that this is what she does. That she sometimes meets new men and just WANTS them, for a few hours, with no strings attached.
We are poised, like two rutting stags who catch each other’s gaze mid-battle.
She is now telling us that sometimes she feels guilty, the way she regularly uses man after man just for a night of hot, meaningless, physical release.
This was a moment of utter brilliance and we were frozen into it with her…
And that… THAT was when he said it.
He looked her straight in the face and said: “Surely you have AIDS?”.
The phrase hung in the swollen air like a sickening echo of pure WRONG.
Me and mate B simply could not believe what had just come out of his mouth and judging by the state of mate A, neither could he. Meanwhile mate B’s new girlfriend was frozen with her mouth open and a drink paused halfway to it like a lonely cable-car on a particularly uncomfortable mountain.
Single sister was just looking, aghast, at the massive empty space where our conversation used to be, tears forming in her eyes.
Mate A was reddening, I mean he was SO red he was already basically purple, because of course he didn’t mean aids, he meant a dildo, a sex toy… a guilt free SEX AID.
I knew in that moment that if I even looked across the table and saw the face of mate B I would utterly, completely piss myself in a way that I couldn’t control. I also knew that if I looked across and he looked at me – he would do the same and almost certainly end up with his new girlfriend’s drink in his face.
So I did what any friend would have done, I looked right at him with a sh!t eating grin twice the width of my actual face.
Mate B began laughing instantly – but with a half a Guinness halfway down his throat it came out more like the liquid roar of a drowning epileptic tiger.
He basically threw up foaming Guinness onto the table whilst howling like a fat wolf being clumsily buggered. It was an absolutely suberb and riotous guttural laugh that barely left him any time to breathe.
Meanwhile, I was snorting tears of utterly uncontrollable laughter out of my face and all over my pint. I could barely see a thing for the fizzing riot of furious noise I was vomiting onto myself.
As a backdrop to this, mate A is now trying desperately to explain what he meant, with basically the same level of success you might expect Adolf Hitler to have, interviewing for a post as an infant school teacher.
He’s trying to explain that he was thinking about how highly sexed she was and that if she was guilty about all that stuff… couldn’t she use a vibrator… a sex aid…. not AIDS…. a SEX AID, Jesus NOT ACTUAL AIDS!
It wasn’t working because she was already crying.
The girlfriend was disgusted with mate B for laughing and subsequently stormed off taking sister with her, mate B trotting behind still laughing hard but trying to be deadly serious and failing miserably.
Mate A stood by the table, like a purple beacon, shouting hopefully across a busy pub that he didn’t mean that kind of AIDS.
Laughing hard at the horrendous awkwardness of it all, I sat alone at the table.
The night was utterly destroyed, the only good point being that I was still in a pub, with a mate nearby and a table full of alcohol that the other three wouldn’t be coming back to collect.
Mate A sat down and put his head into his hands, lamenting the disastrous HELLFAIL of pretty much his only earnest sentence of the night.
Of course I turned to him and said: “honestly, I think she f*cking likes you”
He punched me square in the f*cking face.