I even managed to get up at 10am next morning to go and collect a package from the annoyingly awkward to reach postal depot. Then I shopped in Tescos, went home and slept all afternoon. Chicken soup got made for the first time in ages and I ate many bowls of it.
Cocktail party was brilliant, although of course Laura is emphatically *not* being awarded the monkey despite damn well deserving it, because she can't face the shame and cries very prettily, so we'll give her another chance. I drank not one but two fucking disgusting cocktails. Christ.
Marcus dithered but finally couldn't be arsed to stay awake long enough in the shared cab home to actually give directions to the driver after the rest of us had got out, and so crashed over at ours. In my bed. After two more bowls of lovely soup, I joined him and slept.
This is where, as they say, hilarity ensued.
We woke up the following morning and had a tentative hug. I really really really felt like a shag but wasn't sure because:
a) he might be too hungover to consider it.
b) he might not want to do straightforward shagging with me, since we've only done SM stuff.
c) I had been ranting on LJ about how much I wanted sex, and maybe he felt pressured to fuck me to keep me happy and didn't actually want to.
d) maybe he just didn't feel like it.
The only vague clue he gave me was saying "So, what do you like to do on Sunday mornings then?"
I did not feel that this was quite enough encouragement to grab him and shag him, though, so I thought I'd stall in a droll fashion, caress his arm and shoulder a bit, and see what developed. So of course I said "go to church", didn't I?
"Fair enough", he said, and that was it. We kind of had to get up soon after that.
Much later, in the pub in Stratford, it was the staggered look on the face of an incredulous Katy, who said to us "so did you two actually have sex this morning?" ["No". "No really, did you? You didn't? What? I don't understand."] that made me realise that similar thought processes had been going through Marcus's head too, and I felt really stupid.
But the film was brilliant, and I managed to read a map to West Hampstead, and I made a wine glass into a tree. It worked surprisingly well and I was dead chuffed, because I am actually Shit at Art, but not this time. Cool.
And then, as is the way of that strange thing called life, something unexpected happened. As everyone got up to leave, and my 3 gentlemen friends who were there all disappeared (2 because they were sleepy and the other because somebody needed walking to a station or something), I was suddenly struck by an absolutely soul-crushing sense of loneliness. I wanted to embrace one of my lovers; without wishing to do you all down lads, I really wouldn't have cared which one of you it was. I was really quite distraught, and I think a couple of people noticed.
Fortunately there was a good mixture of cool people down the pub, and I perked up a bit. :o)
So now I'm trying to find out if I have any money in the world, or if I owe the world a favour. Sigh.