The Drought (The hilarious laugh-out loud comedy about dating disasters!) (28 page)

“
Okay, maybe
there will be a few facially-challenged hood rats in there,” Jack
conceded. “But that is why we hang out with Ollie – so he can take
care of all the wrong ’uns.”

Ollie looked offended for a
second, but then shrugged his shoulders. “Fine by me,” he said
quite happily.

“
Dan, you are
missing the big picture here,” Rob said as we got within 10 yards
of the hotel. “Think about it. We are going to a party in
our
hotel. If you pull a
girl, you are minutes from your bedroom. How often can you say
that?”

Rob did have a
point. Maybe I had been looking at this from the wrong angle. We
were heading to a private party where most of the people were going
to know each other. For all the single girls in there, our little
group was going to be the surprise package. We really were going to
be the
exotic
guests after all.

“
Okay boys,
here is the plan,” Alisha said standing on the steps of the hotel.
“The party is in the main hall on the third floor.”

Erica took over. “We are going
to head up now and tell the birthday girl we have a little surprise
for her. You boys need to come up in five minutes and then we can
really get the party started.”

Rob agreed on our behalf with
that winning smile of his. Erica and Alisha giggled some more as
they made their way towards the lifts.

“
Did you hear
that?” Jack said excitedly. “
We
are going to be the surprise for the birthday
girl. These girls are hot for us I tell you!”

“
This reminds
me of the time I met that girl on the way home from the pub last
year,” Ollie told us. “I was walking down Bedford Hill and bumped
into this right little sort. We got chatting and one thing led to
another, and before you know it we’re back at this hotel for a bit
of slap and tickle.”

“
Wait a
minute,” I said. “You met a girl on the street, took her back to a
hotel, and had sex?”

“
Yep,” Ollie
said proudly, a huge grin on his face.

“
You paid her,
didn’t you?” Jack asked.

“
Yep,” Ollie
responded with an even bigger smile on his face.

“
You’re a sick
man, Ollie,” Rob said, shaking his head and looking at his watch.
“Come on guys, five minutes is up.”

The lift made
a
ding
sound as
it arrived on the third floor. We stepped out and saw the sign for
the Main Hall pointing to the right. We approached two large wooden
doors with a huge “Happy Birthday” banner across the top. This was
it. We took a deep breath and pushed the doors open. Confidently we
waltzed into the Main Hall. The wooden doors slammed shut behind us
making a huge thud. Just like in the movies, there was a loud
scratch from the record needle and the music stopped. Over a
hundred faces all turned in our direction. It suddenly dawned on us
the monumental stitch-up that had been inflicted upon
us.

There was a
huge dance floor in the middle of the hall, with a massive sign
that read
Happy 80th Birthday, Grandma
Betty.
Not only had we gate-crashed an
OAP’s birthday celebration, but we had promised to entertain her
with exotic dancing. But it got worse.

As the hundreds of eyes
starting to burn a hole in us, it soon became very apparent that we
stood out like a sore thumb, for we were the only white faces at a
clearly all black family celebration. It was like Take That turning
up at a Black Panther Party convention. We all pulled apologetic
faces like we had accidentally walked into the wrong party and
turned to walk out, but guarding the door were two huge mountains
of muscle.

“
You boys
aren’t leaving, are you?” one of the mountain men said to
us.

“
We got off on
the wrong floor,” Jack offered as our excuse.

“
But you
guys
are
the
exotic dancers aren’t you?” the second muscle man asked.

“
We’re not
exotic, we’re English,” Ollie blurted out.

I elbowed Ollie in the ribs as
both men growled at us. “Please ignore him, sir, he’s an idiot – he
thinks exotic is a country.” You could hear a pin drop.

“
There has
been a mistake,” Rob said. “We have walked into the wrong
party.”

“
Hey Alisha,”
the first muscle man shouted out. We turned to see Alisha and Erica
walking towards us. “Are these the dancers you were talking
about?”

“
Yep, that’s
them,” Alisha said. “They told us they wanted to entertain the
birthday girl.”

“
This one is a
bit weird though,” Erica said pointing at me. “He keeps talking
about that one’s foreskin.”

“
That’s why
you called it a turtleneck!” Ollie shouted out. We all shot him a
look.

It turned out that the two
behemoths who stood between us and our getaway were the boyfriends
of Alisha and Erica. The one on the right with a bald head was
called Andre, while the guy on the left with the huge biceps was
called Leon. Andre grabbed me and Rob by the back of the neck,
while Leon did the same to Ollie and Jack.

“
See that lady
over there?” Andre said pointing toward a sweet old lady sitting at
a table across the hall with white curly hair and bottle-top
glasses. “That is Grandma Betty.”

“
It is her
birthday,” Leon said, taking over. “And she has been promised some
entertainment tonight. Are you going to disappointment
her?”

“
No, sir,” I
gulped.

“
Good,” Andre
said. “Because I don’t like seeing Grandma Betty disappointed. The
last person to disappoint Grandma Betty was...” he paused. “Let’s
put it this way,
unable
to attend her birthday celebrations
tonight.”

“
Now you are
going to dance, and you are going to dance well, because if you
don’t,
you
won’t
be around for Grandma Betty’s 81st birthday,” Leon warned
us.

We were thrust towards the
dance floor. It was deathly silent. Someone coughed and the echo
lingered in the eerie silence. We looked around at each other for
inspiration, but it was clear we were up shit creek without a
paddle. There was no way we were going to leave this party alive.
The DJ put a record on and the sound of vinyl crackled into life.
Then the beat from the track.

We didn’t know what to do. We
stood motionless, lifeless even. It was a train wreck waiting to
happen. I looked at the others. It was best if we just got this
over and done with. Songs only last four or five minutes. We would
only need to suffer the embarrassment and indignity for 300 seconds
tops and then we could be out of here.

“
I know this
one,” Ollie said quite chirpily. “This is
Candy
by Cameo.”

“
This is not a
game of name that tune, you big dopey idiot,” Jack said
harshly.

“
No, I mean I
know the dance routine to this song,” Ollie said. “It’s called
the
Electric Slide
. Just follow me – two steps to the right.”

We watched as Ollie started to
move. Two steps right; one-two, one-two. We looked at each other
but really didn’t have any other plan. We stumbled into action,
clumsily following Ollie’s movements.

“
Two steps
left,” Ollie said. I stepped on Rob’s foot, who in turn stumbled
slightly into Jack. We started to get heckled from the crowd, and a
few boos sounded to show their contempt at our sloppy dance
routine.

“
Two steps
back, and hold.” We followed Ollie intensely as he led us into the
next steps. One step with left foot forward, and lean forth.
Suddenly we started to find our rhythm.

“
One step with
the right foot, and lean back,” Ollie continued to work us through
the routine. “Hop and kick sideways!” We moved in unison. Even I
didn’t look too bad, and we actually started to enjoy it. Slowly
the heckling and booing was replaced by cheers and claps as we
repeated the same routine but this time to a different corner of
the room.

The cheers grew louder, before
the whole room was up on their feet, clapping in rhythm to the
funky beat. Ollie was like a pro, choreographing every move. Alisha
and Erica joined us on the dance floor and we continued to grow in
confidence with every dance step.

“
I can’t
believe this is happening,” I said to Rob, who had the broadest
grin on his face. A middle-aged woman, a fat man, and two small
children made their way to the dance floor. It wasn’t long before
streams of people of all ages and sizes started to pour on to the
dance floor, all performing the same synchronised routine in a
dozen lines. Even Grandma Betty had made it to the dance
floor.

Finally, Andre and Leon made
their way on to the floor and lined up alongside us to see out the
final stages of the song. The four of us might not have been the
best dancers on that floor, but we more than held our own.

A huge cheer went up at the end
of the song with the DJ shouting over the PA system: “Give it up
for the entertainment!”

“
Where the
hell did you learn that dance,” I said as I hugged Ollie, raptures
of applause ringing in our ears.

“
My mum loves
all those old 80’s songs,” Ollie said. “She used to make me do that
dance in front of friends and family when I was a kid.”

“
I could kiss
you,” Jack said. “Oh sod it, come here, you big lump.”

“
I got to hand
it to you boys,” Andre said, “that was pretty cool.”

“
And more
importantly, you entertained Grandma Betty,” Leon added, pointing
towards Grandma Betty who was blowing kisses in our
direction.

“
What do you
think?” Jack nudged me in the side and whispered into my ear. “I
reckon Grandma Betty looks like a bit of a goer.”

“
Shut your
face you idiot,” I said, smiling through gritted teeth.

Chapter 18:
Extreme Makeover

Sunday, June 13 2009 -
10.47am

Drought Clock: 163 days, 1
hour, 50 minutes

The weekend in Brighton seemed
like a distant memory. I had failed in my quest to end the drought,
but a girl had used me and that was a start. Plus, we had
entertained Grandma Betty and that was pretty cool. And in a way I
had been chatted up, even if it was in a gay bar. I had to take the
positives.

Progress had been made, but as
June arrived it was always in the back of my mind that I was now
approaching half a year without sex. Half a bloody year! In that
time, Iceland had appointed the world’s first openly lesbian head
of government, Mount Redoubt explosively erupted for the first time
in 20 years in Alaska, the second G20 summit involving state
leaders had taken place in London, and swine flu had just been
deemed a global pandemic.

But no matter the event or
story, they all just served to remind me of my own predicament. I
would have killed to have explosively erupted in the company of a
Scandinavian lesbian, in and around the London area, even at the
risk of an infectious disease.

“
Está usted
bien señor?” Rosalie asked as she busily dusted, snapping me out of
my daydream as I stared blankly at the television screen. “I mean,
you okay, Señor Hilles?”

“
Er, yes. I’m
fine thanks, Rosalie,” I said, putting down my half-eaten bowl of
cereal on the table. But then I had a thought. Here was a woman of
experience – a woman of the world. Maybe
she
could help me. Maybe Rosalie
would be able to listen to my woes and point me in the right
direction; tell me where I was going wrong and what I needed to do
to get out of this rut. It was a long shot but what did I have to
lose? Nothing else had worked so far.

Plus Rosalie had been coming to
my flat every other weekend now for six months. That was the
longest relationship I’d had with a woman since breaking up with
Stacey, and she had even stayed around after the infamous duvet
moment on her first day of work. It was more than I could say for
any other woman in my life over the last six months.

“
Rosalie?” I
said nervously. “Can I ask you a question?”

“
Si señor,”
she answered, still dusting everything in sight.

“
In your
country, what does a man do when he wants to...” I searched for the
right word. “...be romantic with a woman?”

“
Romantic?”
Rosalie wrinkled up her nose. Then her face broke into a smile and
she blushed. “Oh señor, Hilles, naughty boy!” And she tapped me on
the head with the duster and disappeared out of the living
room.

I had no idea what Rosalie
thought I was asking, but obviously I wasn’t going to get the
answers I was looking for. Whatever it was, it was clear I was
barking up the wrong tree. I picked up the remote control and
started flicking through the channels. I was about to give up and
go back to bed when something caught my eye.

Extreme Makeover UK

It was a
reality TV show where ordinary men and women underwent an extensive
transformation at the hands of the
Extreme
Team.
The makeover process included
everything from getting a new wardrobe to exercise regimes to life
coaching. Did I need an extreme makeover? If I could change my ways
and my look would it make a difference? I glanced up at the
calendar. Six months. It had to be worth a shot. I was going to
need help so I grabbed my phone and sent out an SOS.