Inspired by Daddy Poppins recent child free holiday to Ibiza I remembered my own visit. There I was, San Antonio 2002, let loose for a week, my Dad had my little boy and it was going to be the best holiday ever. Right? Well, not really. A simple throwaway comment threw me completely. I was in Es Paradis some garage night or other, totally not my thing but my mate was so excited I thought she’d combust leaving only a white lace bikini. God she looked amazing in that bikini, all blonde hair and bronzed skin, couldn’t get it wet mind you but nevertheless she looked like a Goddess. Anyway on with the story…
I was dancing, I’d never thought about whether I was a good dancer or not before, I just did it. I’d held loads of dance competitions in front of my Nana and she’d never said I was crap! In the midst of me throwing some kind of gin, lime and lemonade enhanced shapes a random bloke beckoned me over. I thought “oh here we go, he wants to know if the Goddess is single, this is getting boring now”. But no, that’s not he wanted at all.
He leant over, next to my ear because the music was loud and shouted “fuck sake love, you can’t dance, why are you even here?” he laughed, his mates laughed, I didn’t laugh. Well I wasn’t expecting that. I didn’t say a word, I didn’t know what to say anyway. Like one of those Facebook posts where everyone is outraged and says “well I would have…” “you should have…” but in the moment what happens, happens and you can’t change it. I just turned my back to him and walked away.
Did I think “well sod you, arsehole”? Actually no, it upset me, I felt stupid, I felt like everyone in that club was staring at me and laughing and I couldn’t wait to leave. The Goddess told me I was being ridiculous, she was three sheets to the wind but I’d sobered up fast and felt utterly humiliated. I hung about for my friend’s sake for a bit but I was blatantly as much fun as dog shit flavoured biscuits as she eventually mumbled “let’s go home”.
We trudged out and started walking back to the hotel, we got lost, we had a row about being lost – the first row we’d had in years of friendship – my fingers randomly swelled up like fat sausages about to burst hot fat in your eye (mad the stuff you remember) and I wanted to cry. I didn’t, I just put all my efforts into finding out where the sodding hell we were.
We did eventually find our way back and the realisation hit us that if we’d just turned left instead of right we’d have have been back at our hotel in minutes. Twats.
I’d like to say I never though anymore of it but that wasn’t the case. It was there in the back of my mind the whole holiday. Niggling away how much of a clumsy oaf I must have looked.
Even during the ‘lapdance’ from the spotty herbert with his football shirt off and tucked in his back pocket.
Even when I got caught going topless (thought I was safe being 4867 miles away but no, it wasn’t to be) by someone we knew back home, nothing wrong with being topless obviously however it was someone I’d really rather not see me half naked.
Even when I had my head down the bog throwing up some dodgy chicken and chips.
Even when I came home and had the odd night out.
Even when I went Steampunking with Tracey Hooks and Dragons and did the Timewarp.
Why can’t people just think before opening their big fat gobs? Had he just thought it in his head like any other person I’d have been none the wiser. Instead I’ve spent 16 years thinking that the whole room will piss their pants the minute I get my jig on. So cheers for that Ibiza wanker. You’re too kind.
Have you ever been the victim of a throwaway comment that bothered you for a long time?