Tuesday, May 23, 2006

Suddenly on the radar

SATURDAY:
A gay club. In Cardiff. At scrapy-am. The loong night after Eurovision.

ME: If I wasn't so drunk, I'd make a pass at you.

HIM: If I wasn't so drunk, I'd fend you off.

***

SUNDAY MORNING:
Um, am I in a relationship?

***

SUNDAY EVENING:
A text from him: "You've not replied. Pity. Goodbye."
Me: Huh? Did I miss something?

***

MONDAY EVENING:
A phonecall from him: "... uh, so, anyway ... My brother-in-law is also called James. He's just texted to say 'Yes. I am amazing at sex. And I have no idea what the other thing is, but yes, I'm probably good at that too.'"

Um. Interestingly, he used to be a farm labourer, but is now a banker. Imagine Sean Bean in a suit. Only young, and with his face all nicely ironed.

PS: He owns a haystack. Larks!

3 comments:

James said...

Insert your own jokes about finding the needle here...

Anonymous said...

Once again, I congratulate myself on moving your name to a safer spot in my mobile's address book.

There **are** a lot of Jameses out there, aren't there?

Skip said...

Is there anything deadlier than the right text to the wrong person? Or the wrong text to the right person.

Once, halfway through a date, accidentally texted the date to tell him he was dull. and fat.