Wildchild

For the first time in ages I absolutely and completely let go. You may find that statement surprising given the lack of self control evident in recent posts but last Saturday, at the Wildchild dance festival I partied harder and with more abandon than I have for years. We arrived, following a stomach-lining Wetherspoons lunch at the site around 3pm. Undeterred by the rain we checked our coats and dived straight in The Cross nightclub (the festival was based around The Cross, The Key and Canvas in Kings Cross). As an avid Spaced fan I was thrilled to be in the club in which they filmed the 'clubbing' episode (I kept that to myself at the time). We danced...and drank...and danced for hours, visiting different tents and clubs as the day wore on. At around 8pm I found myself dancing in an outside tent with the rain pouring down, puddles underfoot and nothing but a strappy vest covering my shoulders. I got talking to a group of lads, one of whom immediately caught my eye. M was tall, dark and oh yes...very handsome. We all spent a couple of hours dancing and laughing in there until the main festival closed and we decided to make a night of it in The Key.

After a while M and I began kissing and basically didn't stop except to dance or get more drinks. My first couple of friends left around 2am, then the next lot at around 4:30am until the only person I knew in the place was M. Not having ever been a real clubber I was amazed to find I was the last one standing at 6am. Well, I say 'standing'...I was actually slumped on a bench in the chill out area, defiantly smoking my last ever legal cigarette indoors (the ban kicked in at 6am that day) when M came and found me. We went back to mine, arriving home around 6:30am. We spent the day in bed, not eating and not sleeping, just exploring each other. I found him overwhelmingly attractive and the heady cocktail of no sleep, no food for almost a day and sexual arousal meant we were obsessed with each other and only each other for hours.
He left me around 7pm that Sunday with a raging stubble rash around my mouth and sore muscles in my thighs (well, it's been a few weeks). Not certain whether I'd ever hear from him again I was thrilled when he text me asking for my email address the following day. He confirmed he'd like to see me when he returned from holiday. Despite the way we met I had thought perhaps he was interested in me in a dating sense, however when I received a call from him on the morning of the third day of his holiday which, it became quickly evident, was a telephonic booty call I began to have my doubts. Of course I obliged, my self esteem is too low not to, but I was left feeling a bit hollow. I'm fine with 'just sex' normally as I never real feel that much of a connection with anyone but M was different. In between the marathon heavy petting session of that Sunday, we talked a great deal and found we had lots in common. He's intelligent and successful with a great sense of humour leading me to secretly harbour hope that he might develop into something more...substantial. He gets home tomorrow so we'll see how things go and whether he even contacts me. I think I would see him again, if not just to have the chance to hop onto that fabulous body but also to see if I can't persuade him to think outside my box.