For those of you who have opened up this page, let me start by saying: welcome to “The Groupie Diaries!” I may also add, brace yourselves for some very unique and entertaining content that may or may not have you cringing with slight disgust or falling out of your seat from laughing.

The main point of the groupie diaries is to go one deeper with a fictional protagonist character named Sophie and join her on various adventures and missions which mostly end up with her banging a hardstyle DJ.

**Disclaimer: For privacy reasons and integrity, although some of the stories are BASED on factual accounts from various individuals, situations have been altered and/or overly dramatised. There will be no names used for any characters that correspond to real life – these stories retain their sole purpose as entertainment!**

Before we get started, let me give you all a quick rundown on Sophie. She is a 20 year old hardstyle lover from Oslo, Norway. Being Scandinavian and all, it’s a given that she is blonde, beautiful and has sparkling green eyes (not all Scando’s have blue eyes). Sophie works part time in a clothing store in order to pay for the fuckload of hardstyle parties that she attends. She’s definitely one of those people that would save a lot of time and effort if she lived in The Netherlands which is why she’s planning possibly begin a degree over there in about one year. Because she’s a hot bitch, Sophie is followed on Instagram by a lot of hardstyle artists and as per usual, she also has them all on Facebook too. Other than being intimidatingly beautiful, she has a pretty good personality and loves to party hard! She’s always spotted hanging out and joking around with boys. Basically, she’s every guys dream… Oh, I think we forgot to mention, she’s wild and loves attention.

These stories are personal accounts from Sophie, AKA these will be written in first person. Anyway, now that you all have a clearer picture of Sophie, let’s jump into her world and begin!

The Groupie Diaries: Sophie meets up with DJ for the first time – almost throws up on his housemate.

Date: Thursday, 29th July 2013
Time: 8:52PM
Location: Utrecht Centraal
Temperature: 25 Degrees.
Feeling: A mixture between nerves, excitement and slight fear for my vagina.

Why am I feeling this way whilst standing in the middle of a busy train station? Let’s backtrack slightly…

I was casually standing in the middle of the crowd at Defqon.1 2013 at the Blue stage with my friends and a bunch of drunk Welsh people who kept giving us tequila. Somewhere around 6:00PM I was starting to feel pretty tipsy so I decided that it would be a good idea to get on somebody’s shoulders and flash DJ Tableheadz (the DJ on stage) my perky DD boobs. He saw and waved at me (yay, I’m famous). To be quite honest, DJ Tableheadz has never been on the top of my ‘to bang’ list, he’s about a 6/10 in aesthetics and let’s be honest, he’s no big superstar either. Irrelevant.
After Defqon.1 I was staying with one of my rave-acquired friends in The Netherlands for the following week and after I had finally recovered by about Wednesday, I sent DJ Tableheadz a message to his artist Facebook page asking whether he happened to see a pair of boobs flying around during his set at Defqon.
To my surprise, about five minutes later, Tableheadz or better known as Henry sent me a friend request from his personal account and when I accepted, he instantly popped up on chat with an array of “hahahahaha’s.” After the continuous stream of ‘haha’s,’ Henry kept chatting to me normally and I was pretty surprised with how friendly he was.

We exchanged the usual ‘who are you, where do you come from’ small talk and just as I thought that the conversation was ending, Henry asked how long I was staying in The Netherlands for.

Me: I’m here until Saturday.
Henry: Well… What are you doing tomorrow night?
Me: Nothing planned (which translated into my head as ‘let’s bang’)
Henry: Well, I say that we should meet up for a drink (or 10).

It’s safe to say that I was sooooo fucking excited! I told my hardstyle loving friend who I was staying with straight away and she was instantly jealous that DJ Tableheadz was showing interest in me.

So, this finally leads us back to the fateful day, the 29th of July, 2013 where I was standing at Utrecht Centraal after an extremely nerve-racking train ride. Right as I considered chewing off all of my fingernails and spitting them at the next person that passes me by, a semi-familiar face approaches my direction, looking slightly lost (don’t look so lost mate, this is YOUR country).
It was Henry.
When he approached me, he immediately gave me an awkward hug and three kisses (which I still wasn’t quite used to) and I was pissed off. I do not like awkward hugs. I asked him how he was. He was good and he definitely looked it.

As 9:00PM was fast approaching, we decided that first thing was first, we both needed some sort of food. I hadn’t eaten all day without realising and suddenly I was very hungry. For once, it wasn’t for some cock (lol).

We walked into the city, had a very nice dinner in a restaurant and Henry paid (like a decent guy should). We spoke intensely about his career and his life of being a DJ and his stories were pretty boring to be honest. I pretended to be interested however… Where are all the stories about wild tours, pouring champagne on stripper’s boobs and embarking on other MA15+ adventures?! His music wasn’t the best in the hardstyle scene, nor did he have any relentless stories, however a DJ is showing interest in me so I may as well make the most of it.

During dinner within conversations mostly about hardstyle, I was evidently stuck in awkward date mode but I felt slightly better after finally having a decent meal. There was one thing that would rid the awkward atmosphere – alcohol. Around 11:00 we decided to go out and have some drinks, which translated in my head “let’s get wasted and have sex.”

We left the restaurant and started off at a bar. I smashed a glass of white wine down in record time.

Nothing.

We eventually got bored of this bar and moved on to the second bar. I drank wine faster than a mother in a mid-life crisis until uh oh… I started to feel slightly drunk. It was happening, I was reaching: THE STAGE.

I fucking LOVE the stage. For those of you who are scratching your heads and wondering what “the stage” is, it is defined as the period of time where you are (or think you are) the funniest cunt alive, usually accompanied by alcohol or (opiates). I was reaching the stage and I was doing it in front of a semi-famous person, and I did not give a fuck, pretty sure he thought I was quite funny in my own special way.

We continued drinking and laughing and being wild cunts until we ended up at this completely random underground sweat box nightclub doing these very fruity shots. They were actually the best tasting shots that I have ever done in my life, very fruity and tangy. Beautiful.

Henry was evidently getting quite drunk, I could tell because he was acting like a 19 year old rather than somebody in his mid 20’s. It was quite fun though, we were having a pretty good time now that alcohol was added into the equation. Some random thoughts about how the fuck I was getting home arose but I just pushed them to the back of my mind and did another shot.

Somewhere in the early hours of the morning we were both REALLY fucking drunk. You know that stage where you are so drunk that you feel the need to tell everybody just how drunk you are? Yeah well, that was us. Things in the sweaty club began escalating when Henry pulled me closer and grazed his hand down my cheek. He went in for the kill straight away and kissed me pretty damn passionately. We kept kissing between our random drunk conversations about life.

“So Henry, why don’t you have a girlfriend?”
He doesn’t like relationships apparently.

I could spot that he was a commitment phobic from a mile away; anyone who gives an awkward hug is always bad with commitment.
Somewhere around 4:00AM we decided to call it quits and begin the long stumble back to his place (looks like I’m not going back to my friend’s house tonight…)

Once we got to his place he told me to be very quiet. I decided to throw a glass vase at a wall just for fun. No, I’m kidding, in my best efforts and highly obliterated state I remained quiet as we tiptoed into his room.

Henry is very drunk and feels a sudden urge to start taking his clothes off. I awkwardly stand there and pretend that I’m a tree in a school play. Henry begins mumbling words that don’t even belong to the Russian language and I am too drunk to even deal with life. I am not sure if I am going to throw up, pass out or cry. Deep throating is definitely out of the equation. Henry gets out of bed and just as I am falling asleep whilst standing up he picks me up and throws me on the bed… Bad idea Henry, I feel a tactical vom coming on. I resisted the urge to throw up all over him whilst we are kissing and before this story turns into a shitty piece of erotica rather than a fictional story, I will let you interpret what happened next. I’ll give you a clue however – one thing led to another until… YAY!
…
…
…
…
The time is: 7:00am.
My head: feels like it has been left soaking in a brewery.
I am: not sure where I am.
I am also: not sure of what happened last night for a few seconds.
I am feeling: a soft surface on my back
I turn over: there is Henry. Oops.
Henry is: passed out and looking pretty ugly TBH.
So I decide to: make a run for it.

As quietly and slyly as possible I slide out of bed. I am frantically searching for my clothes and belongings that were unevenly distributed around Henry’s room. I desperately don’t want him to wake up – I don’t think I can deal with an awkward confrontation, so I decide to get dressed as quickly as possible. I consider pulling a Cinderella for fun and leaving my shoes here but I come to realisation that I will need to see with Henry again in order to get my shoes back and let’s face it, there’s no way that’s happening.

As I quietly close his bedroom door and pray that he doesn’t wake up and catch me in my swift escape, I feel a ‘tactical vom’ on its way up….
Fuck. I need to get the fuck out of here. NOW.

As I am milliseconds away from my escape, the door opens and some random guy in sports gear is walking inside (I assume that is Henry’s housemate). Holding in litres of alcohol which was on it’s way up, I aggressively push past Henry’s housemate and bolt for the exit as quickly as I can – before I throw up my entire stomachs contents all over him. I keep running until I almost fall head first in a bush and “BLAAAHHHHHAAHHHHURUUGGHHHHHh!!!!” there’s unhappy alcohol coming out of my mouth, nose and most likely my eye sockets too. I take a moment to pat myself on the back for not throwing up on Henry’s housemate before I keep running down the street. For some half-drunken reason I feel as though Henry’s room-mate is watching this skit from the window and possibly filming it.

When I finally come to the next street I feel simultaneously embarrassed that it’s a Friday morning and a few people are giving me strange stares… After finally putting my shoes on, I pull out my phone from my bag and click a few buttons until directions back to the train station pop up.

My head is hurting so badly that I would have taken a nap in the middle of the street if it wasn’t so socially unacceptable. Mentally, I am confused to what happened last night… Everything seemed blurry and retarded at the time. Last thing that I properly remember was being in some sweaty club with Henry and having a lot of shots followed by some public displays of affection. I had a quick giggle to myself; I couldn’t wait to tell my friends of my adventures. After finally making it to the train station in one piece, I gathered myself and jumped on a train back to my friend’s house.

I was hoping that Henry’s housemate wasn’t in the midst of telling him that I took a dramatic bolt, but what else was I to do? Maybe I should have thrown up on his collection of USB sticks or something…

To be continued…