Back in early 2017 I got an internship job at my old university where I was in charge of managing the student radio station for three months. I got to work with my friend Matt, another intern who I also graduated with. Together we trained up a batch of new presenters, put new music on the system, managed the schedule and general output of the station during that time. Plus we also got to present shows (which I loved) as well as produce shows for those that weren’t as confident or just needed a little more help. It was a very hands on job that kept me busy (I’d often stay way beyond my contracted hours) and I loved it.
I met a number of new people doing this job, one of whom was Charlotte. She was initially quite shy but she was interested in hosting her own show and we brainstormed ideas of what that show could be. She has a passion for comic books and manga so that became the basis of a show that she’d host every week, joined by other comic book fans off her course.
Matt and I did a show on a Friday afternoon and we positioned Charlotte’s show just before ours, but often Charlotte would stay and be a part of our show too, which meant she did five consecutive hours of radio. Charlotte’s boyfriend, Ash, also joined the station but he only ever produced. He never had any inclination to sit behind a live microphone as he didn’t trust himself not to swear or say anything he could later be held accountable for. During this internship I got on with Charlotte and Ash very well, they’d often invite me round for dinner and we’d go out drinking together.
For the Friday just before Valentine’s Day, Matt and I were going to play a version of Blind Date as part of our show. The station we worked at had recently been refurbished and we now had two studios. The plan was for me to be in studio one with a female contestant, while Matt would be in studio two with three male contestants. They’d be able to hear each other but not see each other. The female contestant would ask questions, the males would give some cheesy replies and she’d pick one to go on a date with. Then we’d swap it so we had a male contestant picking from three females.
Matt and I ventured to all the local restaurants and many of them had agreed to give away a meal for two or something, so we had a selection of great prizes to give away. Now all we needed was some contestants, and that’s where things got tricky.
We had guys tripping over themselves to be a part of it but we struggled to get females. So we had Charlotte helping us all week to try and convince some single girls to take part. It’s creepy and awkward if I just approach random females and say “Excuse me, are you single?”
But females are less threatened by other females, so we ended up getting Charlotte to do it. After all that leg work, we had one girl sign up.
Anyway, the Blind Date show comes and goes, we never did get enough contestants but we made the best out of what we had. We managed to play one round with one girl and four guys. They were all off the same course, so they all knew each other and one of the guys was her ex. She ended up starting a relationship with one of the other guys who she didn’t pick, and they’re still together now. I like to think our show was responsible for that.
After the show (and the week) I decided I need a drink. The university’s Student’s Union had a Valentines event on, and I had some spare tickets (unused prizes for our show). I didn’t want to go alone, Charlotte was up for it, Ash wasn’t so it was just me and her. We were having a pretty good time, drinks were cheap, and as it was so noisy we’d frequently pop outside for a cigarette. I generally smoke a lot on nights out and have had some of the best conversations of my life in nightclub smoking areas.
Eventually the the upstairs room gets opened up for the main event, which was this Valentines Disco. As everybody goes upstairs they get given a huge sticker to wear with a number on it. So the first person to arrive get’s #1, the hundredth person gets #100 and so on, you get the idea. I get number 32.
So we go upstairs and everybody’s wearing these numbers. There was a number of screens on the walls and hanging from the ceiling with a text message service. So if you like the look of somebody you can send a message that they will see on the screen by including your number and theirs.
The majority of them were tragic. Like ‘Hey 17, I wanna fuck you in the carpark from 85.’ And that’s probably a mild example.
So we’re drinking, looking around at all the people and I see three girls, wearing 8, 9 and 10. The girl wearing #9 looked particularly stunning. Honestly, I’d say she was the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen in real life. I lost myself in staring at her. All the clichés where time stands still, in my experience they’re all true. Anyway, Charlotte caught me staring and agreed that this girl was something else. She suggested that I message the screen and so I did. But mine was more respectable than most. I put ‘9 is looking fine from 32.’
I hit the send button and we stand there, staring at the screen, waiting for my message to come up and hoping that this girl spots it. But a few minutes later, the system crashes, the screens go black and that was the end of that.
Oh well, I shrug it off, I’m still enjoying myself and carry on drinking. Later on we see #10 looking very worse for wear and getting carried out by venue staff. At this point I presume it means #’s 8 and 9 will also be leaving with her.
Charlotte and I carry on drinking, we go outside for another smoke. On the way back in, Charlotte needs the toilet, she goes into the ladies and I wait outside for her. I try and look busy, messing around on my phone but Charlotte was in there for ages. I’m talking 15-20 minutes, at least. If she’d have come out and told me there was this new system where you have to build and plumb in your own toilet before you’re allowed to go, I’d have believed her.
Eventually she comes out and is like, let’s go for another smoke. Might as well, it’s been a while so we go outside again. I light up, and Charlotte says ‘So I got talking to #9 in there.’
My jaw drops and I’m like ‘Shut up!’
She says. ‘I’m being serious. #9 was in there with #8 who was on the phone to #10, because they’re concerned.”
So Charlotte claims she was talking to #9 about me and said something along the lines of the following. “Yeah my friend messaged the screen saying ‘#9 is looking fine’ you should give him a chance. But you have to be quick, he’s only here until the end of March. You should fall in love with him and give him a reason to stay.”
I’m hearing this on the smoking balcony and I still don’t believe her. Charlotte says she’s being absolutely serious and #9 told her that her name is Catherine. But of course in conversation I’m like ‘Is that Catherine or Kathryn?’
And I say ‘What the hell are we doing out here. Go back in and get me her number.’
Looking back, I come across as a bit of an entitled prick, but that’s just what happened.
We go back inside and upstairs and there she is. #9 on the dancefloor with her friend. At that point, my stomach just goes. There’s butterflies, it’s doing summersaults, you name it.
I run off for a piss, while Charlotte goes back over to #9, or Catherine, as we now know her.
When I come back out I see this girl writing on Charlotte’s hand and then she walks off. I stay by the bar, it seems safer there. Charlotte walks back over to me and says that she wasn’t comfortable giving me her number but told her for me to add her on facebook. And on Charlotte’s hand she’s written ‘C (Surname which I won’t publish here)’.
So I get my phone out and send her a friend request.
Catherine must have get her phone out and have a look because suddenly her friend, #8 is looking at me and indicating me to Catherine. It looks like she’s trying to bring Catherine over to us but Catherine keeps backing away.
Charlotte’s trying to take me over to them, but I keep backing away. At this point I have zero courage, I don’t remember a time that I ever felt more afraid or less confident.
I have no idea how long this carries on for but we’re practically following her round the dancefloor for the rest of the night, Catherine still backing away. Even if we’d ended up next to each other, I’d have no idea what I would say.
This silly game carries on all the way up to the last song and the friend (#8) still looks like she’s trying to get Catherine near me. Charlotte goes to the toilet, at this point they’re closing off upstairs so she has to go downstairs. The last song finishes and I’m just stood there. It all goes silent, the house lights come on and I’m just frozen. I don’t know what to do or where to look. I don’t know whether to shit or wind my watch, I’m looking at the two of them and it looked like the friend screamed the words ‘FUCK OFF!’ at me. So I turned and ran down the stairs and out the building.
Charlotte comes outside, the building is funnelling out. I feel like shit. Charlotte sends a message to Catherine from my phone, something of the lines of ‘hey I’m sorry if we creeped you out, my friend just really wanted us to meet each other’.
Charlotte and I both ended up getting blocked by Catherine on Facebook. I saw her once more around a month later and I still didn’t have the balls to go and speak to her, not that I think she even noticed me anyway.
At the time, I’d been single for about nine months, now I’ve been single for about a year and a half. I had a pretty busy year following the Catherine night, working freelance on a number of projects so I was frequently meeting new people. On only one occasion since have I met a girl that I’ve felt attracted to and I’m yet to meet anyone more beautiful than Catherine. I identify a lot with the Cristina character from ‘Vicky Cristina Barcelona’, especially when she says “I don’t know what I want from life, I only know what I don’t want” and I think that plays a huge part in my lack of confidence when talking to girls.
On the most part I’m not bothered. If it weren’t for my high sex drive I think I could live forever without being in a proper relationship again. Lately I’ve been on pretty strong medication that has pretty killed my sex drive anyway.
I don’t really get bitter, resentful or anything like that. I try to live life with no regrets. I’m always heavily critical of myself and think it helps that I can have a laugh at my own expense.
I’m quite a nostalgic person. Always have been, but I try not to live in the past too much. Sometimes I can’t help myself. It’s quite nice to listen to ‘Catherine’ by Magic Man and think back to that time.
Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/7xct5b/mf_the_catherine_story
I think you’re looking for /r/confessions bud.