The Code

It's been awhile, thankfully a very long while. However, it's time to discuss Posh Work Guy again. Sorry.

The two of us have remained friends since our WTF? night many months ago. He was off work sick for a few months, I think that helped. Since he's been back I noticed that he stopped talking to me for a bit. Then he appeared to be flirting with me so I told him about me and The White Horse so then we went back to not talking. This suited me fine as I live in fear of the day when someone finds out about us, I get crowned the Office Slut and TWH severely questions my sanity. I took it upon myself to quash the latter point by telling TWH and me and PWG. I explained that this doesn't mean that we have to disclose all our past relationships / hook ups / serious mistakes, but, as he knows PWG and works for the same organisation as me I would rather him hear it from me then hear it from someone else. He took it well so I felt better.

Fast forward to last Friday night and PWG and I were at some one's leaving drinks - my manager's to be precise. I'd recently discovered that he is also leaving in a couple weeks and silently rejoiced about this. The two of us used this opportunity to clear the air as to why he hasn't really been speaking to me. (Someone asked him about us. He thought I had told. Which of course I had, I can't help it, I'm a talker. As soon as he said who had asked him about us I knew who had blabbed. I feel I gave a Golden Globe winning performance covering up the fact that I had told and convinced him that someone had seen us flirting at drinks many moons ago. Meryl Streep eat your heart out). Anyway, the night was going well.

Then, my recently departed (drunken) manager announced that we should go to a bar near Notting Hill. I drunkenly agreed, so me, my manager (Kate), her friend and PWG got in a cab and away we went. I thought it was weird that PWG was being so sociable until I thought back to earlier that afternoon when he was flirting so much with Kate that you could practically see the drool coming out his mouth. Once we arrived at our destination I quickly sobered up and realised that a.) I don't live anywhere near Notting Hill and b.) the tubes were probably just about to stop running.

I need to interject here and explain a little bit about London transport. It's expensive. If you want a night out in London you need to either:
a.) go out close enough to home that you won't have to shell out a fortune for a taxi
b.) go out and not get that drunk so that you can remember what time the tubes stop running (about 20 minutes after midnight) and leave on time
c.) have a friend's couch to crash on
d.) be rich enough to afford a taxi
e.) brave the night bus (a dreaded invention which runs all night but takes absolutely forever and is scary and full of drunk people. I know someone who was on a night bus and saw someone get stabbed).

The options that were open to me at this point were C and E. E wasn't going to happen. And C involved crashing on PWG's couch. Dilemma. I text TWH and explained my situation. I said that I would understand if he didn't want me staying there but I wanted to let him know. He replied that he wanted me to be safe but that ideally he didn't want me to stay there. Fair enough. If you're wondering why I asked TWH, I talk. He'd find out, he may not be happy.

Anyway...to cut a long story short Kate and I ended up back at PWG so he could call us a cab as we live in similar areas of London. This was at about 3am. I wanted to go home, she didn't. She kept saying that we would call a cab but that never happened. They started drinking again and I dozed on the couch. Then the flirting began. Can anyone say awkward? She told ridiculous stories to try and impress him, I inwardly cringed. I contemplated getting a taxi except my phone battery was very close to dying (it was at that taunting stage where it was still working but if I sent one text message it would die) and I was nervous about getting a cab home alone.

She was getting more and more flirty, I was getting more and more uncomfortable. It got to 5.20am and I ordered a cab. She walked me downstairs where I was in a serious dilemma. Isn't there a code? A code that says that girls should tell their friends that they have slept with a guy their friend is contemplating sleeping with? And most importantly, that the sex will be crap? Surely that's a friend's duty? I decided against it as PWG would've killed me, and I've told enough people as it is. I survived my solo cab ride home, slept for 2 hours and then caught a train to my parents'. I made it just in time for my eye appointment where I discovered that having your eyes poked and prodded after 2 hours sleep is not an enjoyable experience.

As for what did happen between Kate and PWG, I'm in the dark on that one. Thankfully.