I had a date a few years ago with a guy I met in the usual manner for me.... anyway he suggested a 'nice' pub in Earls Court. I didn't know there were any nice pubs in Earls Court, but there ya go.
Typical me got there early. I went to the bar and grabbed a stool and the barman came over. The pub was pretty busy and most the punters were men. Seasoned drinkers some of them. Anyway I ignored it and instead distracted myself with how cute the nice young barman was. I ordered my drink and got my book out.
After a while the barman noticed my book and asked what I was reading. I can't remember what it was and it's not important anyway, we started chatting. He was nice, probably too young but really sweet. He asked if I was drinking alone but I replied that I was meeting someone but began to wish I wasn't.
Anyway the 'date' came storming through the pub door. OH MY GOD, as he walked towards me I noticed he looked like a scruffy James Hewitt. He had messy ginger hair (I swear it wasn't ginger in his profile pictures.... or was it?), a dark green wool jumper with a shirt under and I think maybe even chords, I couldn't look. He came up to me at the bar and said "Hello" and sort-of spat on my face as he spoke. EUGH, was that booze I could smell? Oh man.
Anyway Mr Hewitt ordered a drink, but I really don't think he needed anymore. I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me whole. What must the barman think? 'Crikey she must be desperate?'
I asked what he'd been up to with his day and he spat in my face that he'd come into town and met a friend for lunch. He'd only just left there to meet me. They'd spent the afternoon drinking. Eh? Is it normal for someone to turn up on a date half-cut? I mean it's probably not uncommon to get smashed on a date, I know a friend who got pissed on a date and fell asleep in the loo while the poor woman sat at the restaurant table for 20 minutes waiting until he woke up and came back all embarrassed (needless to say they didn't meet up again after that) but to turn up pissed and keep drinking?
Anyway this Hewitt look-a-like was really rude. He asked me what I did while I waited for him, and I told him that the bar man and I had a chat about my book and he replied "Ooooh you think you're in there". I really didn't like his tone and he was clearly too pissed to handle an intellectual chat, so after our drink I said "I should be getting home, I've got a migraine coming on" (trusty old Get-Out-of-Jail-Free card) so we walked back to the tube station. At the station he actually said "So would you like to see me again?" Bloody nora, I was so shocked I just pulled as really awkward face and said "Er, yeah, sure" cause I didn't know what he'd say if I said no... and tottered off down to the platform. But once on the safety of the train I text him "Thanks for the drink but I'm sorry, you're not my type and I don't think we should meet up again, sorry". I got a text straight back (I'm surprised he was capable of texting) saying that I was a stuck-up snob who really wasn't all that. Oooooh dear. Someone was feeling defensive! I deleted his reply and got the book out. Bugger, should have slipped that nice barman my number!
In the morning Mr Hewitt, while nursing his Resolve and sore head must have remembered what a complete tit of himself he'd made, and gone through the sent items on his phone and seen what he'd text me, because he text and apologised. He explained that he'd had too much to drink and probably shouldn't have met me. Well that was nice. He didn't suggest meeting again either, which was even more of a bonus.
Alright James, you're forgiven. But next time... have more water with your liquid lunch!
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