OH BUGGER!
That wonderful moment when you're talking intelligently with your crush about something for over five minutes before either of you have remembered your crush and then bam, neither of you can make eye contact any more. But those glorious minutes when even though you're in a crowded bar (with celeb*) but all that matters is you two and not the course-mates next to you or anything else as if the world has paused around you, but it stops as suddenly as it started and all you have are memories.
Then later the offer of food (chips) which you can only refuse so many times - especially since you haven't eaten in 10 hours - before you give in and discover they're exactly as you like them, not covered in some terrible condiment or sauce and he keeps offering until you refuse again, because you don't want to look like a fat pie (difficult in Glasgow where there is the obesity and heart attack capital, I am practically a stick figure next to those) so yes, a good night, but terribly heart-wrenching. So Blackadder fans, made a note in my mental diary on the way home while chatting to them all, simply says "Oh bugger." Because I've fallen even harder for him than I was before.
[This is before the chat and chips above, btw, but is less important in the grand scheme.] And apparently I'm not bad at politics after a bottle and a half of wine (our lecturer is good at refills), I successfully made the argument for an independent Scotland v England - I converted an Englishman (even though I'm still closer to the fence) and then also won Britain v the USA - he (different he) was more than drunk by this point so easy win, never mind Jill 7 - 0 USAman.
*we spotted Kevin Bridges, who is like a Frankie Boyle wannabe.
And now, even though I'm horribly damp and soggy I feel as though someone is hugging me, like I'm all happy and squee-y and I can't stop smiling again. Like the ego and confidence boost I've been needing for so long. Here's hoping it can only continue...
Then later the offer of food (chips) which you can only refuse so many times - especially since you haven't eaten in 10 hours - before you give in and discover they're exactly as you like them, not covered in some terrible condiment or sauce and he keeps offering until you refuse again, because you don't want to look like a fat pie (difficult in Glasgow where there is the obesity and heart attack capital, I am practically a stick figure next to those) so yes, a good night, but terribly heart-wrenching. So Blackadder fans, made a note in my mental diary on the way home while chatting to them all, simply says "Oh bugger." Because I've fallen even harder for him than I was before.
[This is before the chat and chips above, btw, but is less important in the grand scheme.] And apparently I'm not bad at politics after a bottle and a half of wine (our lecturer is good at refills), I successfully made the argument for an independent Scotland v England - I converted an Englishman (even though I'm still closer to the fence) and then also won Britain v the USA - he (different he) was more than drunk by this point so easy win, never mind Jill 7 - 0 USAman.
*we spotted Kevin Bridges, who is like a Frankie Boyle wannabe.
And now, even though I'm horribly damp and soggy I feel as though someone is hugging me, like I'm all happy and squee-y and I can't stop smiling again. Like the ego and confidence boost I've been needing for so long. Here's hoping it can only continue...