A few weeks ago, I met a guy at the pub. I'd spent the afternoon generously helping organisers at the Cox Plate dispose of a heap of champagne they wanted to get rid of, and so gave the guy my number without a second thought. We met up a couple of nights later for dinner and a few beers, made out for awhile, had an okay but not amazing time, and neither of us contacted each other again.
A couple of weeks later, I went to a friend's gig. A very handsome, very newly single male friend of hers who I'd always had a bit of a crush on was there. I've already noted in this entry how charitable I am, selflessly consuming flutes full of champagne as to save races bar staff from having to lug full bottles about at the end of the day, and in another act of monumental generosity, I suggested the hot friend just stay at my place rather than waste his hard earned money on a cab to a suburb which was pretty much the same distance as mine from where we were. Like I said - generous.
So on Saturday night, I walked into a party to find both the boys there. Not only at the same party, but actually involved in conversation.
Yep. Turns out they go waaaaay back. Childhood friends. In fact, Bachelor #1 even informed me that Bachelor #2 had stayed at his house the previous night. (I refrained from pointing out that he'd stayed at my house the previous week, though I of course internally noted and appreciated the irony.) I think the high point of the evening was when I later saw them chatting at the bar and looking in my direction, while being served by a guy I had a fling with last June. Not joking.
Sometimes I feel like I'm a character in Offspring. Not in a good way.