Boy Who Vanished Into The Night

Birthdays. That time of year where you teeter somewhere between embracing your inner Beyoncé and questioning your life choices after two tequilas and a poorly timed decision to wear heels. This year, I chose to celebrate my annual spin around the sun at Pianoworks — and let me tell you, if you’ve never been, you’re missing out on a chaotic cocktail of live music, unfiltered energy, and the kind of vibe that says “Yes, you should absolutely sing along to ‘Mr Brightside’ at full volume.”

The night started with the usual optimism. You know the drill: we walked in feeling like we were still young, fun, and ready to tear up the dancefloor… only to be promptly reminded that the average age in the room could probably recite TikTok trends we’ve never heard of.

So what did we do? We leaned in, of course — to the bar, that is. Drink after drink, the rhythm of the night started to catch up with us, and soon, we were throwing shapes like no one was watching (but they were, let’s be honest).

Somewhere between a very off-key rendition of ‘Valerie’ and an enthusiastic spin that almost took out a table of cocktails, I spotted him. Him, being a guy who, in my expert matchmaking opinion (read: three glasses of prosecco and too much confidence), would be perfect for my friend.

Naturally, I took it upon myself to intervene in fate’s lazy attempts at romance. I tapped him on the shoulder — on the side where she was standing, of course — and he turned around, utterly baffled. She, equally confused, gave me the classic what are you doing look. Did I stop? Of course not. I repeated the shoulder tap until it worked like a charm. Before long, they were chatting, laughing, then just… gone. Disappeared into the night like a rom-com cutscene. Next morning? She tells me she had a great night. You're welcome.

Now, while I was busy playing Cupid, I had my own movie moment. I locked eyes with a guy across the dancefloor — no words, no cheesy pickup line, just a kiss. Bold, dramatic, and exactly the kind of spontaneous nonsense that birthdays are made for. He was young. Like, “definitely wasn't born when Clueless came out” young. But he was cute, and for a few blurry moments, it felt like something magical could happen.

And then... poof. Just like that, he was gone. No number, no Instagram handle, not even a cheeky follow on Spotify. One minute we were mid-kiss, the next he was giving me a quick “goodbye” and vanishing into the crowd like some Gen Z Cinderella. Except instead of leaving a shoe, he left me tipsy and perplexed.

I stumbled out of Pianoworks with that usual post-club daze, attempting to locate anything vaguely resembling a way home. I got on a bus. It was going the wrong way. Classic. But, as always, by some kind of drunken miracle (or sheer stubborn determination), I made it back to my flat — heels in hand, mascara slightly smudged, dignity mostly intact.

So here’s to birthdays, bad decisions, magical kisses with strangers, and being the matchmaker and the main character all in one night. Pianoworks, you beautiful chaos, you did not disappoint.

Till next year... or maybe next weekend.

— Still recovering, still hopeful, still definitely too old for that dancefloor.