The Night That Wasnt

NOTE: considering the very different posts I have to write just now, please excuse any crazyness.

Imelda rang me late afternoon yesterday on my way down from the coast. She was on her way to Sydney, and we made plans to hook up for the evening between her prior engagements. How she managed to get me to agree to it all remains a mystery, but never let it be said im not a barrell of fun!

So considering that I feel like crap, and have had no notice of the shenannigans, I dutifully jump into my car and start the drive to the city. Mind you, I have had no sleep whatsoever Friday night after Fridays development with Dickhead. Im also wearing the same dodgy clothes I was wearing all day: Jeans, 1/2 decent top, Leather Jacket & Suede Boots, no makeup (on account of fear of panda eyes)

So partway there the plans are ammended. I will now drive to Glebe, park my car and wait the 10 minutes or so for Imelda to get there, at which point I will give her my parking spot and we shall head off in my car. I have decided that as punishment for Dickhead not having spoken to me all day (first time in at least 8 months we have gone 24hrs without contact) that I will steal his parking ability until he does. Good thing too, because where did I find a spot? 50m down the street opposite THE DIVINE MONKEY LOUNGE. wtf????


The 10 minute wait is fine by me – Is pend the time using the rear view mirror and a street light to apply whatever makeup I can rummage that I have left in my car over the past weeks since the last big clean out. Organised, me! Let me suggest you not try this at home, kiddies. It ended with me seeking advice from Imelda as to which optioned lipstick was most appropriate. She however was rather useless when rendered to fits of laughter by my phrasing the question regarding the choice of bright red or pinky-red lippy: “So do I go with the ‘you can tell you just got a head job’ one, or the ‘you cant, but your girlfriend can’ one?”

So on to the city, ESTABLISHMENT for those of you playing at home. On the way Imelda is navigating as she knows the city better than me, and gives me directions “go right to the end of this street and turn right”. hmm. end of street is left turn only. I refuse responsibilty for getting us lost because shes navigating, and its only a matter of time before I manage something stupid, right? She agrees.

We get to the club, and I again, manage a brilliant parking spot, having one open up in front of my very eyes. Imelda celebrates by spilling her drink all over herself and the car, continuing her unblemished record of drink-in-car-spilling.

So into the club we go, and boy what a freak show. Who the fuck goes to a club on their own? Regularly even? Sheesh, the men were……freaks. However, that just didnt compare to one particular girl.

I have a big thing about 3’s. They are all through my life from the moment I was born. And not in a good way. Their BAD LUCK – BIG TIME. So imagine my reaction whilst waiting for Imelda in the loo to have a woman smile at me and say hi. A woman with lonk black hair, wearing all black, and with the number 3 stamped in red across her chest 3 times. I can tell you it didnt give me a good feeling.

It didnt give me a good feeling to again be waiting for Imelda a little later on to have the same woman walk past again, smila, ask me if i was having a good night, and put her hand on my wrist. Her ICY COLD HAND. Now, im sure she’d just been holding an icy drink in her hand or something but it CREEPED ME OUT. I told Imelda, and decided to tempt fate and see what would happen on our third passing. We waited for her to leave the loo, and she walked straight past us. PHEW! 3 sightings of creepy 3 girl and nothing bad happened. Thats good right? Must have been coz not long after, dickhead finally rang. It felt good that he was still speaking to me. He was totally weird, but he was there. Imelda had a lovely drunken chat to him after he told me we’d speak tomorrow. That was fine by me because obviously this wasnt the time or place, and also that meant he didnt detest me.

I had a bad feeling about it all though, and talked to Imelda who tried to get me to be more optimistic. It didnt work. But i wasnt giving up. Just not getting too hopeful.

Eventually we left to hook up with the Polish. Phwoah! Hello! We all jumped in my car and headed to Chinatown for food. Let me tell you, not eating in 2 days, plus all the emotional drama, and 2.5hrs sleep in 3 nights PLUS Chinese food at 2.30am after a night out? Not a good idea! Ewwwww. Whilst Imelda was inside getting food I had time to chat to the Polish outside in the cold. What a pleasant, considerate man! Nice looking AND nice person too! However, later that evening he proved Imeldas stories to me about him being a bit on the blonde side!

Honeys final verdict on the Polish as related to Imelda via phone call this morning?

Very attractive, but god bless him hes a simple man!

And for any who disbelieve his existance, I can personally attest to it. Also, after he left his jacket behind (blondeness strikes again) I can attest to the photos on her blog (of which I have seen the unedited versions) are indeed him. 

I call it the night that wasnt because I really wasnt at my best. I was wearing Jeans, did my makeup in the car, was suffering emotionally, unsure of where I stood with Dickhead, tired, tired (yes that needed saying twice) hungry, half drunk from a single glass of champers (from the world renowned St Leonards region – top quality there!) a long way from home with little notice or desire for a night on the town. I really wasnt at my best. Although we had fun, it wasnt the blast it could of and should of been, for either of us, and all i can say to leave you all with is this:


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6 Comments on “The Night That Wasnt”

  1. anon Says:

    Just to maybe reassure you, it’s more likely the number three shirted girl worked at the sydney bar 333.

  2. Imelda Says:

    Anon – that would be the uncreepy explanation. But the thing is, the 3s weren’t printed on her shirt. She was wearing a low-cut dress and they were written/stamped/tattooed in red on her chest! It was almost like some sort of witchy thing. And the only time I ever saw her all night was when she kept going near (and freaking out) poor old Huniii.

  3. Honey Says:

    it wasnt her shirt. She had it stamped on her bare chest in red.

  4. Caria Says:

    Maybe she thought she was cool and took the entry Bar 333 stamp on her chest instead of her hand like normal people. Makes her definitely uncool.

    I love the Divine Monkey Lounge. Admittedly odd name, but fantastic coffee and brunch menu. If you ever manage the same parking magic again and feel peckish, check it out.

  5. huniii Says:

    maybe, either way, it was disturbing!

    i just took the odd name of the place as an omen of the night ahead.

    i wasnt wrong, huh! FREAK SHOW!

    oh the joys of living in sydney

  6. Imelda Says:

    Partying with Im’s often does take on a surreal quality.

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