Kill Saturday, Volume II

“This knight was indeed a valiant Gent: but not a little given to romance, when he spake of himself.” John Evelyn, 1651

So tonight I had a date, with ‘O’, a lawyer who mostly works abroad and was in the UK for one more night only.

Being slightly gullible, after I get back from the coffee morning, we exchange a few emails and I agree to go to his place because the weather is crap and it seems like a nice idea to stay in for our first date. (What’s that? Yeah, I’ll come all the way across town in said weather to facilitate your booty call. Duuuuuh... hairspray rhymes with lipstick)

But actually he’s really nice and we go to his and have a beer, talk and talk, coy looks, moving closer… and…

Then his mother rings to remind him the clocks are going forward tonight (bless), which serves to cool the ardour somewhat. Hmmm. Yet it’s OK, because we talk some more, particularly about him being ‘in’ and me being ‘out’ (lol), we watch a film, and I leave.

The thing, though, being the thing, is this; I want, with this one, there to be a date two, and I said as much to him, so hopefully, when next in good ol’ Blighty, we’ll hook up again.

Now then, gentle reader: the fact he’s a tall handsome successful lawyer with a gorgeous pad in the centre of the city and is away three weeks in four is nothing, nothing, to do with it at all. Shame on you.