I couldn’t go to Outdooraholics because it was a whole weekend exploring the beaches, cliffs and castles of Wales. The Ecstatic Awakening group were running an event called the ‘wild chocolate club’ that was held in deepest Hertfordshire, outside of London. Apparently there was also a meal at Pat Wong’s house, but it was full, and I didn’t think I should turn up unannounced, because I didn’t know who Pat was.
This left one option: London Social Events. The event had the title: ‘Party at Roof Garden with welcome drink’. It was on Kensington High Street.
I signed up and idly scrolled down the list of Meetups. Something struck me: I noticed that a group called ‘I wanted to do that this weekend’ was advertising the same event. There was another group called ‘Mayfair after work’ that was advertising the night too. There were other groups: London Cougars and Toyboys, Girlfriends in London who love to dance, Meet new people and have fun in London.
There were even more: Singles and the city, Singles in London, Over 30s Singles looking for relationships, Bored in London, Duccio’s networking events for London young professionals, Dating in London (20s to 40s), Girlfriends in London meetup group, Single Friends in London, Girlfriends in London (20s to 30s), Girlfriends in London (30s to 40s), London’s social events (a different group to the one I had signed up to, but with an apostrophe), Single and ready to mingle, and Older women dating younger men.
Over seven hundred and fifty people had ‘registered’ for a single event.
I had a problem. The event description insisted on ‘smart dress, jackets preferred’, and I was dressed in my academic uniform: a reasonably smart shirt, my aging pair of Doc Marten boots, and a pair of scruffy jeans that I had bought from a budget store. Having been the recipient of ‘bouncer judgement’ before, I decided I needed to take action: I skived off work and went shopping in Camden. With brutal masculine efficiency, half an hour later, I was done: I was the proud owner of the most expensive pair of trousers I had ever owned.
I shut down my office computer; it was time to go. I was excited. This was going to be it; the grand finale.
The route looked pretty easy: two underground trains. One from Camden to Embankment, and another to High Street Kensington. As I sat on the crowded rush hour circle line train I asked myself some questions: ‘Am I going to feel sad? Am I going to miss all this? What am I going to do with myself?’ I had two other important questions that I couldn’t yet answer: ‘do I really know what I want to do with the rest of my life now that I’ve tried all these different things?’, and ‘has this changed me? If it has, then how?’
My train arrived at the station. I climbed the escalator, walked past a corridor of shops and stepped out onto new unfamiliar streets. It was August, and it was raining; it was a terrible evening for enjoying drinks on a roof garden, but it didn’t matter.
All that mattered was that I was there, that there was a roof garden to find. I walked one way down Kensington High Street and then the other, looking for street numbers. After ten minutes of looking, I resorted to my ever helpful phone. It told me that I needed to go down a side street.
I saw a sign, and then a long queue. I had found number ninety nine Kensington High Street. After joining the queue, I showed the bouncer a ticket I had bought from a website, and was ushered into a cavernous elevator. When the elevator doors opened, I found myself in an expensive looking lobby. I had arrived. There was one thing I needed to do: I needed to have a chat with the host of the group I had joined.
I looked around: the majority of the men were wearing smart jackets, and the women were in glamourous night dresses or smart business suits. This wasn’t the time to be a wallflower: I needed to mingle, and it was with this thought that realised that I had changed. I had no fear, or worries, or concerns. I had, instead, gained a sense of fun. I had shifted from being a mildly introverted computer scientist to a mild extrovert. I had changed to become someone whose sense of self was lighter, more interested, and more open.
It was claim my complimentary drink. There was only one choice: a cocktail that was a twist on a ‘Tom Collins’; a gin based cocktail. I had never had one before. It seemed somehow fitting; my first Tom Collins on my last Meetup.
I remember the first person who I chatted to. She was called Natalie. She hadn’t come with a Meetup, but with a friend. Her friend was a member of ‘Bored in London’. Natalie worked in the health service, helping various trusts to restructure.
I continued to chat to people; a sad looking Russian woman, a bubbly Mexican woman, a chap who worked in Finance, and a quiet government barrister. I found myself in the way of a Welsh chap who seemed to be making fair progress chatting up a Romanian insurance worker, and then explored the Roof Garden with an Australian recruitment consultant called Lisa who came from Adelaide.
‘Isn’t it beautiful!’ Lisa gushed.
It was impressive. Exotic trees were planted in rows in the centre of the garden. We passed shrubs and benches, illuminated by different coloured lights. There was a fishpond, a central bar area, and a restaurant. It was a degree of decadence that was unexpected. Due to the fine rain, we were soon back inside. Lisa disappeared, and I got chatting to two doctors: one was from Germany, and the other was from Slovakia. They were both on a training or exchange visit. The German doctor, called Sylvia, was a member of the London Social Events group, but didn’t know the organiser.
After ordering an eye wateringly expensive beer, and accidentally wandering into the middle of a group of people, I got lucky. I found a Meetup host.
‘Which group are you a member of?’ asked Anita. I told her the name of the group. ‘Just a moment…’ She walked towards someone and beckoned them to meet me. It was a middle aged woman called Sarah: I had found my subject.
After telling Sarah about my quest, she told me a little about her group; or, more specifically, about her groups. Sarah ran twenty seven groups which contained twenty five thousand members.
‘Why… what motivated you to… set up all these groups?’
Her answer was simple: ‘I like meeting new people’.
After two hours of mingling and chatting, the character of the room had changed; a DJ started to play different music; the volume had increased to a level that made talking very difficult. There was another change: the Meetuper mingling space was gradually being usurped by new nightclubbers; groups of glamorously dressed young people were starting to arrive, up for a night of dancing.
I left an hour or so later, leaving just enough time to catch the last trains home. I was tired, but happy; happy that I had done what I had set out to do, but I was also touched by an anxiety that I hadn’t made any real earth shattering discoveries about what I wanted to do in life.
What I did know was that I like hiking, I like some types of yoga, and that I still have an interest in technology. I’ve also discovered that I like watching comedy shows and going to parties at law firms where there is lots of free drink. I also like Improv classes and some types of dancing. I’ve also discovered that I’m not too keen on spiritual stuff, and I’ll probably make do without having a life coach. I also have realised that I don’t need to spend an inordinate amount of money to go on a course about ‘having a conversation’. I’ve also learnt that life is too short for certain types of card game. Importantly, I’ve discovered that I really like to talk, and I didn’t really know that before.
As my circle line train made its way past Victoria Station towards Embankment, I thought about stuff I haven’t done. I haven’t been to the theatre, I haven’t played hockey, and I haven’t had to learn how to swim or had to go kayaking on the Thames. I also haven’t needed to learn how to play a guitar or a musical instrument, and I haven’t done any knitting, crafting or cake baking. I also haven’t been on an extended wine tour in France, or visited castles and beaches in Wales. I haven’t taken a motorcycle trip to Germany, or been to a meal in a Persian restaurant. I haven’t done any of these things. As my train arrived, my train of thought also came to an end. I had a conclusion: there’s no reason why I shouldn’t go and do any of these things. And there’s no reason why I shouldn’t go and play badminton again.
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