As I stood there, completely naked from the waist down apart from a pair of socks, I pondered how difficult it is to look attractive in this situation. A man wearing nothing but a polo shirt and a pair of socks is not a great look.

I did not have a mirror to check myself, so my only way of judging how I potentially ridiculous I looked were the several camera flashes and the hundred or so night-clubbers who were in the vicinity at the time.

[3 minutes earlier]

“And so, the first one back here wins a prize!” screamed the DJ to the hen party on stage with him.

I had heard something about them having to go and find something in the crowd a few moments before, but I had been busy explaining to anyone who would listen how it was just my injured shoulder and the luck of the draw in Poker which had prevented me becoming Superstars champion 2007.

I then noticed one particularly cute member of the hen party running in our general direction, and for the briefest moment, our eyes locked. It is unusual for me to have an attractive women that I do not know come running directly at me in a nightclub, as I do not wear Lynx. It is not as an arousing experience as you would think. As she approached I checked her hands for a weapon.

“I need your pants! Can I have your pants?! Please take off your pants!!” she begged.

Again, I was taken aback. Honestly, this moment had been a dream of mine from the age of fourteen right up until I was twenty five, but since then I have decided that a bit of wooing does not go amiss.

“Well, normally I expect someone to buy me dinner first, but since you asked so nicely…”

And with that she began clawing at my belt. Again, not as arousing as you might imagine, especially as your mates are getting their cameras ready for the ‘money shot’.

“They are clean aren’t they?” she asked as my belt was freed and she was about to pull off my jeans.

“Yes, of course!” I responded, I had, after all, turned them inside out only hours before.

And so down came the pants, and I stood there, in a busy nightclub, cupping Little Angry and the McSquirter Twins whilst she dashed off to claim her prize. With my underpants on her head.

It was not my finest hour.

No tags