That Time We Accidentally Became London’s Main Characters

A completely true(ish) story by Maya Patel, 29, single, South-London-born, currently living in a Clapham flatshare with a broken shower and a very judgemental cat.

Cast of characters (my ride-or-dies since uni / work / that random Ibiza trip in 2019):

• Me (Maya): the chronically early one who still somehow ends up running for the tube
• Liv (Olivia, 30, events manager, Hackney): human espresso, plans everything in colour-coded spreadsheets
• Jess (Jessica, 28, junior doctor, originally Leeds): looks innocent, starts the “one more drink” chant every time
• Amira (29, lawyer, Brixton): voice of reason until the second pornstar martini, then she’s suggesting we all get matching tattoos
• Priya (31, my cousin, lives in Canada now but flew in for the weekend): the chaotic wildcard who still thinks it’s 2018 and shots are free

Friday, 14th November. The group chat had been blowing up since Wednesday.

Liv: “Girls. I have tables at Night Tales Loft and I WILL cry if we waste them.” Jess: “I’m post-nights. If I fall asleep in the club you have permission to draw on my face.” Amira: “I have a 9am hearing on Monday. Let’s be sensible.” Priya: “I brought duty-free vodka and zero chill. See you at 7.”

7:15 pm – My flat, Clapham North I’m in my towel trying to decide between the black satin slip dress I bought for a date that never happened or the leather skirt that requires Spanx-level commitment. Priya is already three vodkas deep, screaming at Alexa to play “Brutal” by Olivia Rodrigo while doing her eyeliner with a liquid liner that costs more than my weekly food shop. Liv is timing how long it takes Uber to get from Clappham to Soho like she’s directing air traffic control.

8:42 pm – Swift Soho We finally pile in. The bouncer takes one look at five loud brown and black girls who are clearly each other’s soulmates and waves us straight through (power of the girl gang). Liv orders a round of yuzu margaritas because “we’re celebrating Maya being single and HOT.” I pretend to hate it but I’m grinning like an idiot.

10:07 pm – Rambutan, Borough Market We’re sharing coconut cocktails in pineapples and Priya is trying to convince the waiter we’re food influencers. Jess has already stolen three of Amira’s plantain chips and is hiding them in her bra “for later.” I get a text from my ex (yes, THAT one) asking “what I’m up to.” I show the girls. Amira snatches my phone, types “living my best life without you x” and hits send before I can stop her. The table erupts. I love them so much it hurts.

11:48 pm – Night Tales Loft The DJ drops “On & On” by Piri & Tommy and suddenly we’re in the middle of the dancefloor like we own the place. Jess has befriended a random gay couple from Manchester and is trying to set me up with their friend who “looks like Timothée Chalamet but taller.” I’m too busy screaming the lyrics to Raye’s “Escapism” with Liv to care. Priya disappears for twenty minutes and comes back with glitter smeared across her cheek and a phone number written on her arm in biro.

2:13 am – The “where are we?” portion of the evening We’re in the smoking area arguing about whether to go to Fabric or just get chips. Jess is sitting on the floor because her feet “have filed for divorce.” Some guy tries to chat me up and I accidentally introduce myself as “Maya, recently single and emotionally unavailable, lovely to meet you.” He laughs and buys us all tequila. I don’t even like tequila but tonight I am invincible.

3:30 am – Beigel Bake, Brick Lane We’re queued up behind a drag queen and three off-duty strippers (standard). Priya is trying to pay with Canadian dollars. Amira has mustard in her hair. Jess is asleep standing up, using Liv as a human pillow. I take a photo of all of us – smudged makeup, salty beef bags in hand, city lights behind us – and set it as my lock screen immediately.

Somehow we make it home. I wake up at noon on Saturday with one falsie stuck to my forehead, 127 new Instagram followers, and a voice note from Priya that just says “I love you all so much I might cry.”

Being single in this city isn’t about waiting for someone to show you a good time. It’s about the friends who already know exactly how you like your cocktails, who hold your hair and your secrets, who turn a random Friday into the kind of night you’ll tell your grandchildren about (minus some parts, obviously).

So yeah. London, November 2025. Five girls, one ridiculous night, zero regrets.

Next one’s already in the calendar. You coming? 💃❤️