And they say I am rude..
The confusion to address people and not remembering how you met them the last time. The only thing you remember is that it still leaves a bad taste in your mouth. The moment when you were stuck and were trying to sizzle out of it by being nice and easy and being used in the entire ordeal.
A palatial house in the one of the most expensive areas in Delhi, the ambience competing with a seven star hotel, with weird paintings and lamps and drawing room books which have never been read, sculptors, dog you can put in your pocket, with servants waiting for your clap to fix you the next drink, beautiful girls wearing the most expensive dresses and perfumes, muah muah two gentle kisses on each side of the face, the clevage being thrown for your eyes, Metrosexual men talking about the new cars and football with one eye still on the clevage..
Every talk starts and ends with "Back in England" along with the useless escapades in the US. Back in England stories are which you wont even remember and yawn a thousand times in your mind. The escapades in US are just stories about the most expensive restuarants in NYC. You can nod your head, laugh because you suddenly remember a great friend of yours and how crazy he is, give your small inputs to tell them that you are not sleeping and wait to get more drunk..clap clap clap clap
Ok now with four claps, things seem to be a little better than usual but you realise that now "Back in England" has turned into "Back in the US" and the metrosexual men have turned into half chuts bitching about some common friends.
I can go on to explain this more but really dont want to. Of all I remember of such parties are the clevage and the good whisky and nothing else. I cant know them anymore and refuse to pick up her phone.
And they say I am rude..so be it.
