The night before we had met up with Nancy and her friends at a bar in Chorlton to celebrate her birthday. That morning my head was woozy, but not hungover.
Nancy said, 'He'd be lucky to have you,' and she lightly touched my wrist. It was late and we were heading in the direction of another bar. 'He's just what I thought he'd be, and absolutely not what I thought he'd be at the same time.' Toga walked ahead of us, chatting to Nancy's French boyfriend. 'It's hard to explain it,' she said, 'but he's both of those things.'
I watched Toga walk; his stride, his long back, his funny thick hair.
'I think it's because I can absolutely see you two together,' she said. 'And I didn't expect that.' She thought a bit more. 'Because you are equal, he'd be lucky to have you.'
I know what she means; sometimes a friend's 'one big love' can be a let down when you meet him in real life. And you sit there looking at the odd couple thinking, "that'll never work."And, "If only she wasn't so deluded... this is going to end in tears." But Toga and I have been friends and unfriends for a long time now. Mostly unfriends of late. But, oh I don't know. Maybe we are friends again.
I gently tugged her coat sleeve, 'Don't,' I said. Toga and her French boyfriend were waiting for us outside the bar. 'Please don't say anymore."
Toga held open the door and we stepped into the music and warm smells of wine and beer. Then upstairs we danced on a makeshift dancefloor.