There's one very good reason why Kurt rarely joins his employees on a night out: drunk people are boring and obnoxious when you're still sober; and Kurt is almost always sober. One particularly bad experience in high school, in which he has thrown up on the OCD-suffering Guidance Counsellor, had been enough to put him off alcohol for good. That's why he's still on his first strawberry daiquiri, despite Tina's instructions for him to get very drunk indeed and have sex with a random stranger. She hadn't put it quite like that, but Kurt knows what she meant.

He runs his finger around the rim of his glass and looks over towards the group from Glee, who are monopolising floor space. It isn't a particularly big bar, and there are an awful lot of them. The bar-tender looks shell-shocked, as if he hasn't ever seen this many people in one space before.

Kurt wonders why on earth he decided to set up a magazine with his friends from high school. Aside from the fact that they gave his the idea of a magazine aimed specifically at kids in show choir, and that most of them have turned out to have hidden talents necessary for the production of such a magazine, he honestly doesn't know what he was thinking. He can't cope with all of them at once any more than he could as a teenager. He's only grateful that he doesn't have to put up with Rachel as well.

Tina and Quinn dance over to him, each taking up one of his arms in an iron grip – pincer movement.

"You're not drinking enough," Quinn tells him seriously as they haul him to his feet.

Tina nods, just as serious. "You promised me you would drink. And that you would flirt. You're not keeping your promises, Kurt."

"Tina, you know I don't drink much. And I'm fed up with flirting with guys who aren't interested, or worse, don't want anything more than a blowjob in the bathroom."

Tina appears to have thought of this, however. Kurt should have known, really: even when drunk, as she is now, she is ridiculously efficient.

"You need not worry, my dear Mr Hummel," she says, giggling. "I know for a fact that there are several gay men in this room that think you're cute and have ex-expreeesed…expressed an interest in more than just a blowjob…" Quinn giggles too, wiggling her eyebrows, and Kurt sighs. He really can't cope with them like this. They're edging towards the drunker side of tipsy, and with Quinn especially this is the worst stage. When she is full-out drunk, she becomes angry and irrational, but he's learnt to deal with that over the years. Before she gets to that point, however, she becomes far more talented at making and recognising innuendoes than Kurt has ever imagined possible.

"Oh, for goodness' sake…" he mutters.

"And that…is pre-cise-ly why you need to drink more," Tina says, slurring only slightly.

"She has a point, Hummel," says Lauren Zizes, coming up behind them. She takes his daiquiri out of his hand and replaces it with a glass of coke mixed with something that smells like an awful lot of vodka. "If we don't get you drunk, how are you going to get laid?"

Kurt sighs. He loves Lauren, truly he does: she's funny and sarcastic, not taking any crap from anyone.; at the same time, she's warm and compassionate, and damn good at her job. Even though she runs the tiny marketing department basically single-handed, she's boosted Glee's circulation by about fifty per cent in only a year. But she doesn't seem to get that he wants more than just a one-night stand.

"Maybe I could meet someone that I like in the daytime, without the aid of alcohol, and engage in a meaningful relationship based on more than just sex?" he suggests. "A radical concept, I know, but it works for some people."

Lauren just looks for him. "And have you met someone? 'Cause you've basically been a recluse since Dean dumped you."

"Oooh!" say Tina and Quinn. They're not helping.

"I have, actually," Kurt finds himself saying.

Hold on, what? What on earth is he saying? He must be drunker than he thought, because his mouth has run away from him. but he can't backtrack now – Tina, Quinn and Lauren are all looking at him expectantly.

"There was…a street musician, when I was out today…"

Lauren and Quinn say "Oooh!" again; Tina is positively vibrating with excitement. Kurt can tell without checking that she has drained another drink and crossed the line towards 'completely plastered' (she's a happy-girl drunk).

"I know who it is, I know who it is, I know who it is!" she says happily, jumping up and down on the balls of her feet. "It's that guy, Blaine, isn't it? I saw him yesterday."

"Um…yes?" Kurt hazards. This just became a lot more complicated. He'll actually have to make an effort with his lies now.

"Oh, he's cute. And he's gay."

"How do you know?" Kurt asks. He stopped trusting his gaydar a long time ago, after an embarrassing incident involving Sam Evans, a locker room shower cubical and bleached hair.

"Some girls tried to give him their numbers – quite a lot of girls, actually – and he veeery politely told them that he doesn't bat for their team."

"Didn't you know that, Kurt?" Lauren asks, grinning at him evilly.

"No…" Kurt answers vaguely. Tina's revelation has made him re-evaluate Blaine's actions from this afternoon.

"So what did you do? Did you speak to him?" Lauren asks.

"No."

"So what did you do?"

"He sang Teenage Dream…"

And…?" Lauren presses.

Kurt bites his bottom lip. "He looked at me a lot. When he sang the chorus."

Tina and Quinn squeal, jumping up and down with their hands clasped (so Quinn's a least one drink behind Tina, Kurt thinks vaguely), but Lauren doesn't look impressed. Kurt doesn't really blame her: it's not very impressive.

"As nice as that sounds, Hummel, it's not like he proposed to you. I still suggest that you go and get up some Dutch courage and go talk to…" Lauren breaks off, scanning the bar briefly. "That guy over there. That way, you won't be rusty if you ever get with Dreamy McMusician Pants."

She shoves Kurt's drink back into his hand (he abandoned it on the bar top at the first opportunity) and pushes him towards a tall blonde man sitting by himself in the corner of the room. Kurt stutters in protest, but she ignores him and gives him one last push, setting him stumbling across the floor. As he trips towards him, drink in hand, Kurt swears he sees a pair of bright, hazel eyes peering at him through the hazy gloom; but then they are gone, leaving Kurt to make conversation with Blonde Robert from Arkansas about classic cars, country music and college football.