Fifi and Afam the Frog: The Cocktail House Party

I'm not done, au contraire I've scarcely begun. I don't know why but inserting French into English sentences seems to uplift the quality of the sentences. Phrases like raison d'etre and tet a tet do wonders for my literary palate. You might be thinking that this is related to the matter at hand but you're wrong. It isn't. This one's about an event I attended this weekend, Fifi's 21st. Fifi is a lovely name. It's such a lovely name that I can't believe I didn't think of it sooner.  It fits it's bearer infinitely well because the bearer is infinitely lovely in her own way, as is everyone.

I first met Fifi while I was head over heels for a strapping little thing called Rabs. Honestly if I were to make a list of all the times I've been head over heels one would have great cause to believe that i have spent more than half of my short adult life on my head.

I must take a break at this juncture to give a shout out to Kenya, the first infatuation of my adult life.  

Where was I? I met Fifi when she, Starmix and Rabs visited my summer workplace. My palms were sweaty, and my arms were heavy as I blew hot and cold in attempts to win Rabs. Sometime between that time and now Fifi and I grew quite close. By close, I mean that I have her number and I call her once every other other other week.

Fifi chose to usher in her 21st Birthday by throwing a black and white smart casual no trainers allowed cocktail event in her flat. The very uniqueness of the event has allowed me to invent a most unique event title, "the cocktail house party."

I started drinking with Lord Howard and Montesquieu at 7pm, where Lord Howard was dispensing his typical Lordly wisdom. Our poison of choice was the Jack Daniel's original recipe Tennessee Honey Liqueur.
Goes down like  Malibu, kicks like Vodka and burns like Brandy

Enter Lord Howard, Montesquieu and I, Afam

Afam: So what should I say to her?

Lord Howard: Say nothing.

Montesquieu: Surely he should say something.

Lord Howard: No, he mustn't. Don't go to her. You must let her come to you.

Afam: I can't understand them. Why do they all have to be so damn confusing?

Lord Howard: Girls aren't supposed to be understood, they are to be thud...ded

I found dressing for a black and white "cocktail black and white house party" extremely difficult. This was partly due to my chronic indecisiveness but also partly due to the confusing nature of the dress code. If it were a cocktail party in a restaurant then it would have been acceptable to wear my finest white shirt, with my finest black blazer and my finest pair of black jeans. However as this was a house party I knew that something would end up being spilled on me or worse I would end up spilling something on myself. It's always worse when you do it to yourself because then you've got no one to blame but you.  As a result of the homey nature of the party I had to decide which of my 8 white shirts was good enough to appear at a cocktail party but bad enough to be disposed of in the event of an indelible stain. I settled on a white H & M shirt. I had worn it once already. It would reach it's life expectancy in another two wears. I paired that with a pair of decent but not my best jeans and ditched the idea of wearing a blazer altogether. A blazer at a cocktail house party is unheard of.

I strode into Fifi's apartment building like a king. I was a little perplexed when I was greeted by Miss Leggy, Yew and one other I did not know in the lobby. They ordered me to do a shot of tequila. You must understand my displeasure at this. Drinking tequila after drinking Tennessee honey is like being fed piss after drinking Ribena. Ribena is the drink of life!

From there, I was guided to Fifi's apartment. Eager to wash away the taste of the tequila I rushed to the Kitchen where I found a highly capable bartender. Capable bartenders are a rare find. A capable bartender isn't some over qualified student slumming it at a job he considers daft. It's a man who has accepted his talent at pouring drinks and making them. A capable bartender takes one good look at you and serves you what you need before you yourself realize what it was you were craving. Without me asking, this very capable bartender served me a filthy mojito. It hit the spot.

After the extremely filthy mojito that was more cheap rum than lemonade I had an alcohol induced epiphany.

Enter Mojito

Mojito: Afam!

Afam: Who is it? 

Mojito: It is I?

Afam: Who are you?

Mojito: I am the fire coursing through your veins, the delicious thing that's slurring your speech, and the icy thing that literally blew your mind. I am the reason that you are swaying while smiling like an absolute fool in the middle of the dance floor. 

Afam: Don't be rude. What you call foolish, I call legendary and I Afam, am nothing if not a Legend.

Mojito: Pah! Debatable! I have bigger fish to fry.

Afam: Fish? Where? Perhaps i can roll up my jeans and assist you ?

Mojito: My dear boy, there is a woman here!

Afam: Yes there are several.

Mojito: There is a woman here who you no longer talk to as you once did.

Afam: Yes there are several.

Mojito: No, this one isn't like the others. You genuinely liked this one. You were rather depressed when she jilted you.

Afam: I don't recall ever being depressed and/or jilted but I do remember that there is someone here that I could mend fences with.

Mojito Pastor: Get on with it then.

Under the direction of my Mojito pastor I sought out Rabs. Like I said earlier I had spent one very long summer completely besotted with Rabs and like most romances my infatuation only lasted the summer. By the end of the summer what I imagined were feelings of love had turned to feelings of hate. The very sight of her was enough to boil blood and frizzle hair. After a while those feelings dulled but I would never completely comfortable around her again. I treated her as I would a viper: I watched in fascination while protected by a sheet of bullet proof glass. I knew that my task would not be easy but I was determined to get my heart to heart.

I marched like a man with purpose to Fifi's bedroom where Rabs lay,

Enter Rabs

Afam: Rabs!!! How the hell are you?

Rabs: It's been so long. I'm good. How are you?

Afam: I'm good thanks. It's really good to see you.

Rabs: You too. I have to use the bathroom.

Rabs probably didn't have to pee. She used it as an excuse to get away from me. She is a master of all forms of polite avoidance. I knew that it would be a while till she let her guard down again but I couldn't fail. I tailed her like a sneaky sexy cat. Lurking behind the shadows, waiting till she was alone. I even danced around her hoping to catch her eye. None of that worked. I was amazed, I had never ever come across someone that was utterly and completely Afam proof. At 3am I lost my patience. I grabbed her and dragged her to a quiet corner...

Afam: Do you have a problem with me.

Rabs: Not particularly, why?

Afam: It's just that you've been cold since that summer.

Rabs: I'm sorry if you've felt that way. I should be going

Afam: Don't go. I want to clear the air.

She looks at me with a somewhat whimsical  expression.

Rabs: You remind me of a frog.

Afam: Then you should kiss me and make me a prince.

Rabs: You're incorrigible

Afam: You're emotionally destitute.

Rabs: How can you be so immature?

Afam: You're the one that started with the name calling.

Rabs: You make me uncomfortable.

Afam: It's been 2 years!

Rabs: What do you want?

Afam: I want us to be normal. I want a clean slate.

Afam: Truce (I say this while reaching out my hand)

Rabs: Truce.

Mission accomplished, I grabbed my coat and skipped home. It was a good night in general. It wasn't the sort of good night I was expecting but that doesn't really matter does it?

Happy Days,

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