Lana and I danced on the edge of the dance floor... That's when Mr McAvoy approached me and asked if I wanted a drink. He brought his tall Lebanese friend over to chat with Lana while asking me many questions I couldn't hear. I dragged Lana over to the bathrooms and squealed in excitement about how much this mysterious European looked a lot like my favourite actor. After calming down, we decided to go back out and dance.
A few sweaty hours after dancing and being subject of several random photos, the music died down, the lights came on and everyone made their way out of the club. Then Mr McAvoy asked for my number. I thought about it for a moment because I didn't know if I wanted to see him again. He did look like James McAvoy though, so I typed my digits into his phone and saved my name. Unfortunate thing though, was that I didn't quite grab his name. It was too foreign, and the music was too loud, for me to figure it out.
Over the next few days, I'd have completely understood if Lana slapped me silly because I did not stop talking about Mr McAvoy and how I hoped that he'd call me. Luckily, I was put out of my misery and he called me mid week to see when I was free to catch up. He said he was a pilot for a private airline and travelled a lot, sometimes he wasn't even sure how long he'd be away for. I told him to let me know when he knows he's free, and I should be fine.
The next day at work, I got an email with an attachment from Lana. She didn't actually write any description, she just attached one photo. It was a photo from Alpha, taken by one of the roving photographers of a weekly magazine. When I looked at it, all my fantasies of being whisked away on a private jet with Mr McAvoy dissolved into thin air, due to my shallow brain.
Mr McAvoy of Club Alpha, looked nothing like James McAvoy of Hollywood fame. He wasn't 'ugly' but let's just say, the darkness and strobe lights of the night club complimented his face REALLY well.
Once again, Lana was the one I shared all my burdens with. Whether I should still go out with him even though he wasn't perfect? If I was just being silly and shallow. If he really was a pilot or was he just some casanova with such a tight schedule of pleasing the ladies that he hardly had time for a new one...
You could say my imagination ran a bit wild.
He did, eventually, call me about a week and a half later but by that time, in my head we'd already bid farewell and I didn't expect to hear from him ever again. So I just let the phone ring. And ring. And ring. Shame that I didn't even catch his name (I asked him on our first phone conversation, but was too embarrassed to ask him to repeat himself for the 3rd time... Way too foreign sounding), I didn't even have a chance to Facebook stalk him.
One day I'll meet my real James McAvoy.
Things I learnt from that experience...
If a guy looks Hollywood glamour in the low lights of a club, there's the high possibility he doesn't look the same out in the scorching Dubai heat
If a guy tells you not to expect him to answer your calls all the time because he's a pilot, he's probably lying (or he possibly isn't, so maybe you should give it a shot)
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