SOME GUYS JUST AREN'T CUT OUT FOR A 9 TO 5…
Casanova. Womanizer. Lothario.
Clearly words that you wouldn’t use to describe me. But over the years I’ve had the pleasure of observing some true masters at work. And my pick of the bunch? Nova.
There is of course no way of you verifying this (unless you’ve slept with him and I know at least two readers that have) but believe me when I say, the guy has a gift with women and his rap sheet at the FIRM alone is the stuff of legends.
It’s not just his appearance; he’s like an even better looking version of a young Dean Martin. But like Martin he has a “seemingly-effortless charisma and self-assuredness” around women.
Some of you may be reading this and wondering why on earth I’d want to hang out with the Luke Skywalker of cocksmiths but rather fortunately, not only do we have completely different tastes in women, it appears that women generally share the same views about us (apart from one ex-colleague, who has actually slept with both of us).
Plus his seemingly-effortless charisma and self-assuredness is the perfect complement to my quite-visible lack of charisma and shyness around women.
Around five years ago now, we were at an engagement party and to quote Roy O’Bannon from Shanghai Knights, it was ‘ass soup’.
True to form Nova was ‘on the grind’ within minutes of our arrival. And much like any other night, it was only after a significant amount of booze that I felt comfortable joining him and his harem.
Now the events that follow are still disputed amongst the people who bore witness to them but all I remember is walking towards the bar to pick up some roadies for the journey across the room, a friend of mine dropping her glass of G&T and me falling flat on my arse.
Though instead of my arse, it was actually my face. And instead of flat, it was on broken glass.
As you should’ve gathered by now, I’m quite relaxed about embarrassing situations and would usually have handled things like this.
Except when I eventually got up, I noticed that absolutely no one was laughing and more importantly, my head felt like it had been run over. I glanced down at the floor and my clothing and the area directly underneath me were already covered in blood. Bugger.
The party was pretty much over after that and although I obviously felt terrible for ruining the evening, I was slightly more interested in what the fuck I was supposed to do next.
Within moments people were gathering around me to offer assistance, including a chap who had recently suffered a similar injury and one of our trained first aiders.
But no. Apparently the accolade of Hollywood heart-throb from years-gone-by wasn’t enough. And Nova decided this was the perfect opportunity to play present-day panty-dropper, George Clooney; reprising his role as Dr Ross from ER.
Brushing everyone else aside, he announced to the crowd that he had it ‘covered’ and led me to the gents. As we clambered up the stairs I distinctly recall saying to him ‘shouldn’t we just head to the hospital?’ To which he muttered something about knowing what he was doing and proceeded to unravel the longest length of bog roll I have ever seen in my life.
Nova: “Stand still. I’m going to try to stop the bleeding.”
Me: “I don’t think this is going to do anything Nova.”
Nova: “Are you a doctor?”
Me: “Nooo. But neither are you, you twat!”
During this woeful attempt to help me, various concerned colleagues joined and subsequently left us (on Nova’s instructions), insisting that we go to the hospital. Yet still he persevered with toilet paper.
I’d been cut in three separate places – one very deep wound above my left eye but below the eyebrow, another doozie above the brow and an assortment of smaller cuts just above my cheek, which also included a piece of small glass still stuck in me.
All jokes aside, I was very fortunate not to damage / lose an eye. But seeing as I didn’t, I’m now able to look back on that night with ‘fond’ memories.
Nova: “Hmm. I don’t think this is working mate.”
Me: “Jeez. What gave you that impression Doogie Howser?”
Nova: “Perhaps we ‘should’ go to the hospital?”
If you ask Nova for his version of events, he’ll tell you that he did in fact manage to stop the bleeding. Though this was only because I had physically run out of blood in the left side of my face and was about to pass out.
But to be fair to the guy, he eventually got me to the hospital and I’m sure he even passed up an opportunity for sex in order to do so.
Now that’s friendship.
We got to Guy’s and St Thomas’ around 1am and after explaining what had happened to the receptionist, took our seats in the waiting area. It was at that stage that the severity of what had happened finally hit me and I spent the next 45 minutes or so alternating between puking and passing out because of the pain.
After my third or fourth power nap, I glanced to my left and noticed a wet floor sign that wasn’t there previously.
Me: “Argh gross. Nova look, I think somebody must’ve chundered over there.”
Nova: “Not somebody. You, you idiot. The nurse had to help me move you over here!”
Me: “I see…” And I retreated into my seat wondering if the night could get any worse.
We were eventually ushered into a room around 2.30am and whilst I lay there waiting for the doctor to come back with her assessment, I suggested to Nova that he let my ex-wife know what had happened.
At the time, we were still ‘together’ but the writing was on the wall. Though in spite of this, a part of me did secretly hope that news of my ‘near death experience’ might encourage her to nurse me back to health and maybe even offer a path towards reconciliation.
Nova: “It’s going straight through to voicemail.”
Me: “Well leave a message then.”
Nova: “Hi XXX, it’s Nova here. Erm. We’re in the hospital. Sean kind of fell over and cut himself. But listen, don’t worry; I’ve had a look at it and it’s not even that serious. Annnd yah, I’m sure he’ll call you tomorrow. Bye.”
By the way, Nova’s like Prince Harry posh.
Me: “WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?”
Me: “A) you weren’t a doctor back in the gents and you’re still not a doctor now Grey’s Anatomy. And B) you might as well have told her I had a fucking cold you moron!”
Wave goodbye to the path Sean…
Thankfully our lover’s tiff was interrupted by the doc’s return.
Doc: “Right we’ve had a chat about it” she said, gesturing to the nurse. “And there’s not a whole lot we can do I’m afraid.”
Doc: “Well we’ll obviously remove the piece of glass and put dressings on the affected areas. But unfortunately the larger cuts above your eye are too big to use glue and not big enough to warrant stitches.”
Nova: “Yah, yah. I concur.”
Doc: “In fact, aside from the dressings we probably wouldn’t have done a lot more than your friend did at the time.”
Well how about that. The night just got worse.
By the time they finished patching me up, there was no one else in the ward other than myself, Nova and the three women.
Me: “Ladies, I just wanted to say thanks again for all your help. Annnd, the one that cleaned up my puke?”
Receptionist: “Yeah, that was me.”
Me: “A special thank you to you. I know the last thing you need at the end of a night is to deal with something like that and I’m truly sorry.”
Receptionist: “That’s very sweet but don’t worry about it, honestly.”
Nova: “Hypothetically speaking though. If one wanted to send flowers to you ladies for everything you’ve done, to whom should they be addressed..?”
If you liked this then I suspect you might also enjoy my book. Or not.
Either way, thanks for reading; particularly to those of you who share these stories and/or leave comments.