It was around midnight on a Friday.
It had been an average day, but I was determined to have an above average night. I left my aircon for this, and the mass of bodies were making the tiny room a sweatbox. After waiting way too long in line for a drink, heading into the mosh for a boog, and then spilling half of said drink, I was ready for some release. Of a piss, I mean.
The line was running out the door, so I turned to you, to help the time pass. You complimented my outfit, and I said I loved your makeup. Yes, a million women have had this exact exchange – but I wasn’t putting it on. That look was fire.
When the banter kept rolling on, I knew I shouldn’t just throw you a smile as I passed you for the rest of the night. A Facebook friend that I never spoke to again, watching your life pass online, parallel to mine. So afterwards, we weaved our way through the pack of people to get outside, to try to get a conversation in with fewer decibels.
It’s an illusion – it’s never actually quieter in the smoking area. Just more difficult to breathe and a lot of overlapping voices trying to get a word in. We had to yell every word we said, but there’s a charm about getting to know someone like that – you really have to listen.
If we even went through the formalities, we must have sped through them. Because the next thing I knew, I was oversharing. After I did my life-story spiel, you did the same, and I appreciated that. It’s not exactly hard to open up to randoms after a few, so I don’t feel special or anything. But vulnerability is always best when it’s reciprocated.
There’s a lot of forgettable conversations on a night out. You hear a bunch of names, home towns, universities, job titles. Most of the time, they’d fly straight out of my mind. But this time, I tried really hard to focus; because I’d hate to have forgotten something important about you when the sun came up.
From there, we stuck together. Especially on the dance-floor. Whether you’re with your closest mates or someone who just happened to be standing behind you, it doesn’t really matter. A hook that everyone knows, and the acceptance that you’re probably going to get someone else’s sweat on you is enough to bring you together, no questions asked. And when you find someone in the crowd that you just click with, it’s even better. Thanks for being that person that night.
We bumped into the friends you came with. You can go down a hundred different paths on a night out, and they went on their own, probably meeting some A+ people on the way as well. They were ready to crash, and you were too. We ordered our Ubers and went our separate ways. “Message me when you get home safe,” I said.
We promised we’d meet up in daylight. Those kind of promises can be pretty half hearted, but this time, I really hope it happens.
This is the first of many features, stories, competitions, podcasts and parties in partnership with spiced rum devotees Baron Samedi! Like us they share a desire for a vibrant and thriving Sydney nightlife and celebrate the creativity that only comes to life after dark.