ready, freeze, fight

Botellóns are such Spanish oddities that no other languages have a word for it. I admit that gatherings on random street corners to drink oneself silly is a wonderful tradition not to mention a cheap way to spend your Saturday nights when the end of the month is looming but they don’t make the best of dates. 

So for the first one of the year (date that is, not botellón!), I decided to innovate and with my unhealthy life-obliterating obsession with Facebook (you know you have one too!) keeping me well up to dates with the latest flash-mobs, I knew just where to take him. 

Wrapped in my H&M scarf, a secret Santa gift, I think I blushed slightly – I never blush – when I saw him approaching, for once Bakala hadn’t let me down. There was little time for chit-chats, the Big Freeze about to take place we hurried towards Plaza del Sol. 

3 whole minutes, stuck in front of one another, unable to move, surely that would raise the sexual tension. The whistle blew but I was half-way through taking a drag of my cigarette, I froze, I had to. When the 3 minutes were up, I had burnt my lip and he was snogging some other bloke (what?). He waved goodbye, winked (huh?) and disappeared in the dispersing crowd. I followed the freezers and invaded El Corte Inglés for an encore where the security guards freaked, confusing us with an organised gang ready to rob the place while an old clerk kept repeating “No se puede hacer tonterias aqui!” (This ain’t a playground!).

Second date of the year, a good old pillow fight on Plaza de Salvador Dali to celebrate Valentine's Day; he was half an hour late and half my size. Note to self: read profiles more carefully. He smiled. “Que alto eres! “ (Wow, you’re so tall!), I smirked back, grabbed my pillow and knocked the smurf down – more aggressively than intended – he bounced back up, the game was on. We rushed into the increasingly growing mob and entered what resembled a mosh pit at a hard rock concert. Using the utter chaos as a cover, I made for the hills. My salvation was only a tube ride away, my home away from home: the Yelmo Cines Ideal. Nicely warm in an overheated room, high on sugar after having eaten a huge stack of sugary pop-corn and drank almost a litre of coke and sitting quite comfortably (I had a pillow, remember?), I turned 5 again, eyes wide, mouth ajar, every single scene transcending me and forgot all about my little blue friend and how my luck at finding a decent husband was definitely running short.