When I was living in London, my six roommates and I decided to visit a bar near King’s Cross called “The Church.” It turned out that “near King’s Cross” was a bit of a loose statement and we had to take several buses, the tube, a ferry and an airplane just to get there.
The appeal was great; women drank for free from 7-9 and there was a promising flyer with a crazed looking British deejay in neon with blonde tips. We got there at 6:51.
The Church was dimly lit with a long bar and about an inch of sawdust on the floor. It was actually a converted church, with a sanctuary-esque dance floor and an eerie upstairs area where one can assume sacrifices or crucifixions occurred. I was thrilled to be there with my roommates—one of the few times we’d all gone out together, and we quickly split into small groups, covering ground all over the bar. 
Two hours fly by when you’re drinking for free, and before I knew it we were all scrambling to the bar to get our last watered down euro-trash coolers. Around this time I was approached by a young man who introduced himself as “Andre.” He was small, with dark hair and a cute face. Before using any words he marched up to me, threw his arm my waist, shoved his pelvis into mine and made very intense eye contact. He told me he was from South Africa and I nodded, very confused. His English was not fantastic, but his enthusiasm made up for it.
Before long we were dancing up a storm and when he finally planted one on me, I was ready. He was a forceful kisser, hurt my face a little, and after a bit I found myself looking around to see if I could call one of my roommates over to distract him. Fortunately, my roommate Annie was in the corner making out with some tall dude. Turned out Andre knew this lad, so the four of us started chatting. Sort of.
Annie’s guy also had a bit of a language barrier. As we moved into the light I saw shock resonate on Annie’s face as she realized he was wearing a FUBU sweatshirt. Annie preferred tight jeans and shirts and fucked up British teeth.
Andre and I hit the dance floor again, and after a few more hours of painful kissing, I was drunk and it was time to go home. My roommates gathered outside and I said goodbye to my South African. Unfortunately, Andre was not interested in saying good-bye. He said he would like to come home with me, and when I said that was not an option it didn’t seem to compute. I looked over at Annie who was standing alone. Clearly, FUBU could take ‘no’ for an answer. Andre waited and when our bus came he got on it.
The entire trip back every time I looked up Andre was somewhere on the mode of transportation, staring at me. I glared and shook my head back and forth mouthing the word, “noooooo,” but his little eyes pleaded. My face hurt.
When we got off the last bus or train or whatever, we walked in a herd, all of us exhausted, barely coherent. Several small clusters of girls, and then Andre taking up the rear. My roommate Kim kept turning back yelling, “Get lost fucker,” but he’d just smile and mutter something about coming up for a coffee. I managed to scurry ahead, punch in the code and get into the door, a sudden rush of fear hitting me. This guy was physically outside my apartment building. Then there was a scuffle and I turned around to discover he was trying to force his way into the building. Kim was behind me and with one deft movement shoved his little self out the door, slamming it between them. To his credit, he didn’t put up much of a fight. He just stood on the other side of the glass, waving, forlorn. I felt bad—maybe he was the love of my life, maybe the bruising hickey forming on my neck was the beginning of something wonderful.
The next morning Olivia informed me that Andre had buzzed their apartment (she lived directly below me)—about 1000 times insisting that he be let in to ‘come up for coffee.’ Even when Olivia assured him he had the wrong apartment, he still felt he should be allowed in the building. Finally she screamed for him to go away and watched from the window as he angrily skulked down the street. I felt bad, seeing as how Kim and Olivia had to do my dirty work for me.
