the date..the end

I have decided to put the matter of that date to rest once and for all. After this, I have no more answers to your nagging questions. And for those of you that will not be satisfied by the answers about to follow, you can go make up your own fairytale ending that you can do with as you please. Like tell it to someone who cares for example,maybe make great poetry out of it or turn it into a beer hall song. It’s your choice really.

Scenario 1
I walk over to where the date’s seated, I politely tell the waiter to get out of the way, which he does and I arrive at his table without any major hitch. I am not sure what to do at the time, so I just plonk in the chair opposite him. I extend my hand for a handshake as does he and then he squeezes it hard, hard, hard. I wake up screaming. Bad dream.

Scenario 2
…waiter out of the way, am at the table. He (date, not the waiter) looks up and smiles, stands up and embraces me in a warm hug. I am thinking I could get used to this. Anyway, a conversation ensues. Broke bloke (his coinage) and I are getting along like Paris Hilton and the paparazzi. At the end of the date, I ignored every principle my mum ever taught me about the first date vs. taking off my pants. I let him take me back to his place and we burned a hole in the mattress.

The end