St Enoch's Square

Chloe

So here we are. At our first stop.

Although technically we haven't got on the subway yet. We'll have our first drink, then head down under St Enoch's Square to start our journey southwards.

I believe there's meant to be around 14 of us in total, but Becky has already explained that not everyone can make the full subcrawl. I nod understandingly at this, resenting the fact I'm probably going to have to last the full day, but also secretly considering faking an illness when we get close to my west end flatshare so I need to abandon ship early. I'm keeping that very close to my chest for now though; it's just a little escape plan I've hatched in case I'm really struggling.

I've carefully considered what alcohol I should drink so I don't a) die or b) break the seal too early -  I really have no strong desire to be searching constantly for the loo in unfamiliar pubs. Gin and tonic seems the safest option.

For now anyway. I may have to rethink this at some point. I'm already drinking a bit too quickly. The physical act of picking my glass up and sipping gives me something to do with my hands and makes me feel ever-so-slightly less awkward.

Lola, Becky's maid of honour, leans towards me. I already know what she's going to ask before she even opens her mouth.

"So are you seeing anyone?" She questions eagerly.

I knew it. I stifle a frustrated sigh.

My love life- or lack thereof - is a bit of a sensitive point for me at the moment . . . And another one of the reasons I'm feeling particularly awkward and uncomfortable about today's plans.

Because my ex is going to be there.

Michael and I broke up eight months ago, after meeting at uni then spending six years together. We didn't have a massive fight or anything, no one cheated, there was no bad blood. We just . . . grew up, I guess.

Unfortunately in different directions. It was pretty mutual, both of us had felt the same and that we would be better off as just friends . . . If we could deal with that obviously. We'd both acknowledged it might be too hard but we were both willing to give it a try.

And it's been mainly successful.

I wasn't looking to jump into another relationship, and neither was Michael. But I have to admit I was lonely without him. And  about two months ago I started to wonder if we'd made the right decision. Perhaps we should still be together. Maybe the break-up was actually just a break to prove that we had been a great couple and the grass really isn't always greener on the other side. Possibly we could try again?

But I had barely been able to give that the consideration it probably didn't even deserve when Michael contacted me to let me know he had started seeing someone. And they've been together ever since.

It's fine.

I can face him. We're still friends. That's all good.

But I have a sinking feeling that the new girlfriend may turn up at some point today. He's not said as much but from what I've heard he's been pretty much inseparable from her since they started dating and I just can't see him resisting bringing her along.  Especially since he thinks I'm totally cool with him moving on.

Anyway, I'll deal with it if and when it happens. Just yet another unpredictable part of this whole day that makes me feel incredibly uneasy.

I paste the sincerest smile I can on my face as I turn to face Lola, who is staring at me with her perfectly micro-bladed eyebrows raised curiously. "Ah, no, afraid not. Getting closer to just running away and joining a convent by the day," I joke lightly.

Actually wouldn't be the worst idea, I think to myself. I'd have peace and quiet and not have to put myself in social situations like this. But there would also be too much praying and too many masses for an incredibly lapsed Catholic like myself so it's definitely not my first choice.

Her face falls but she rallies. "Maybe we'll find you someone today!" She says encouragingly, patting my arm. I resist the urge to flinch away; I'm not a big fan of physical contact. Although I suppose I'll have to get used to it if I'm going to be in crowded pubs and busy trains all day.

"You never know!" I grin so hard my cheeks hurt, aware I probably look like a woman possessed. I'm going to have sore face muscles tomorrow as well as a hangover, that's for sure.

My deranged smile has the desired effect and Lola backs off. Like, literally backs away from me and puts herself on the other side of her boyfriend Colin, as far away from me as possible. For once I'm actually quite glad that I'm socially awkward and can accidentally scare people away when needed.

"What's wrong with your face?" Becky asks me in delighted horror as she appears beside me, some sort of pint in her hand. She clinks her glass against mine.

"Oh, just the usual, apparently making your maid of honour uncomfortable," I quip.

"She really does need to stop asking folk about their love lives," Becky tuts, rolling her eyes. "She's constantly sticking her foot in it."

"It's just her default icebreaker subject I think," I shrug. At least she has one. I never know what's going to come out of my mouth when I'm nervous and/or awkward around folk I don't really know. Just a few weeks ago I said, to fill an awkward silence with a guy who was trying to chat me up: "do you think pigeons have actually got jobs in their own little world, and us humans are actually interrupting them getting on with them?"

I mean, it wasn't completely out of nowhere; we were in a beer garden and a pigeon had just flown right at me, narrowly missing my head. So I was probably a bit in shock at the time too. But the guy looked at me a little like Lola just had and made his excuses pretty damn quickly before rushing off.

Mission accomplished.

"Don't worry," Becky nudges me, back in the present. "I'll stick close by. I know this isn't easy for you, especially with . . ." She trails off, Michael's name remaining unsaid between us.

She's my hero. But I also don't want her resenting me, feeling like she has to babysit me, just because I'm completely out of my comfort zone. And I was the one who insisted Michael should be invited, when Becky had dithered over it. We'd all been friends for years, he'd been to the stags and he was going to the wedding too. It would have seemed a bit cruel to leave him out.

I mean, I'd hoped he might decline the invite but I guess he didn't want to seem rude. And I couldn't back out on account of my best friend/bridesmaid status. So we were pretty much at a stalemate there.

At least he can't make it out until later so I don't need to see him straight away... especially if he does bring his new lady.

Lola has crept out from behind her boyfriend shield and makes her way into the centre of our group, blowing on a whistle that has seemingly appeared out of nowhere. Most of the pub silences as she does so, before taking a quick look at our group then going on with their day. Subcrawls are easily recognised in Glasgow.

Lola is centre of attention now and she is over- the-moon about that. As maid of honour, she has been social director of the hens and she has happily volunteered to be subcrawl coordinator too. This is one of the many reasons why she is maid of honour and I'm just a regular bridesmaid... I know you guys have just met me but can you imagine me in this role?

Didn't think so.

Firstly, she passes out goody bags. I briefly examine the contents of mine: there's a can of pre-mixed cocktail, a lei, a shotglass with the words "I SURVIVED THE SUBCRAWL" emblazoned on it, a packet of Loveheart sweets and something that looks like a bingo card. I don't want to scrutinise that too closely yet as the thought of what might be on it causes dread to bubble in my stomach.

The leis makes sense. Becky - or Lola, more likely - had decided on a tropical theme for the subcrawl. I'm wearing a printed tea dress with flamingo print, which was the best option I could find in my wardrobe to match said theme - I refused to buy something new for it. I've teamed it with a denim jacket, bare legs and my Doc Marten boots. I actually think I've scrubbed up pretty well, for a change.

"Everyone . . ." Lola announces dramatically, looping her own lei around her neck and already giggling in anticipation of the obvious joke we all know is coming. "Let's get lei'd." We all groan as we don our own leis.

I knock back the rest of my G&T and take a deep fortifying breath as we gather our belongings to head for the subway.

I need to get more in the mood for this day . . . And fast!

Don't you hate folk who ask about your relationship status? And what would your drink of choice be on a subcrawl?

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