I’m no stranger to making myself look like an idiot in public, but last night things really came to a head. It was time for the annual “Lukie Take Me Out,” and for the second time in my life, I found myself on the list to be a participant. Now, for those who don’t know, Take Me Out is a popular, and hilariously trashy, show in which a series of boys parade themselves in front of an array of girls looking for a date. It’s absolutely ridiculous, and so naturally, the Lukie version could only be more ridiculous.
I took part in first year and somehow found myself with a date, although I later lost the voucher and never went on said date – something I regret to this day. Obviously I couldn’t do it last year, being in America, but this year my housemate Kate was organising it and initially, I jumped at the chance to do it again. As the night drew closer and more and more of my friends (girls and guys alike) dropped out, I became increasingly concerned about taking part, but Presh and I decided to stick it out to the end, help raise some money for Comic Relief, and hopefully find love in the process.
Things were definitely helped along by the bottle of wine that Kate helpfully provided for me and Presh to provide some much needed social lubrication/Dutch courage. Unfortunately Presh was also designated chauffeur for the evening, which meant that I was left to consume the whole thing by myself – there was no way I was sharing with my non-participant housemates. A risky tactic, but one that worked, I reckon.
Fast forward a couple of hours of getting ready and preparing myself, and I found myself perched on a stool in front of a couple of hundred fellow Lukies as some charming (and some not so charming) men paraded themselves in front of us for our affections. For the girls, Take Me Out mostly involves turning off lights when you’re no longer impressed, but it also involves a certain amount of banter with the host – for us, the undisputed king of St Luke’s, Brett. For some reason last night the innuendo was coming fast and easy and I was absolutely loving all the attention.
Unfortunately, ultimately I may have got a little bit cocky cause I did end up being humiliatingly rejected not once, but twice. It has to be said, though, that the first rejection was enforced – naturally, I’d told our friend/fellow participant Ricky that I didn’t want to be picked first and thus cut my moment in the spotlight short. Also, my own rejection was nowhere near as humiliating as the poor boy that didn’t get a date at all – or the one that pretended to be a horse – or the one that entered into an ill-fated dance off with Brett himself. Oh, boys.
Anyway, after all that excitement and rejection, it was time to continue the festivities and get over my heartbreak at Ricky’s house for our lovely friend Ryan’s birthday. They’d gone all out with the party planning and had sourced a smoke machine, strobe lighting and a real life DJ for the occasion – it was all very Skins like and a lot of fun.
It’s a long walk from Ricky’s house, so we finished the evening with a little trip to McDonald’s on the way home. This was an experience in itself: lots of very drunk locals hanging around! It was a suitably ridiculous ending to a ridiculous evening…I guess my true love is still out there!