What's the protocol with first dates and getting one's round in?
I get the first, proper order, as she settles and wonders about the fact that I really don't have any earlobes.
I really don't, I'd have been hexed in the Eighties.
Anyway, yeah, I get the first and we sit and talk about all the blundering shite that's required on a getting to know you basis. Where do you work? Do you like where you work? How many brothers and sisters? Do I have any tomato sauce left on my chin? Favourite biscuit? Political bent? Shower of bastards? Favourite pubs? Brothers and sisters? Oh, I already asked that, didn't I?
I always offer to get the second. While I'm the opposite of a stingey fucker it leaves a better impression if she goes with, "you got the first, I'm getting this."
We live in an age of mutual nervousness.
That being said I don't let it bother me if I have to make a return trip as long, AS FUCKING LONG, as she makes the move for a third.
Not so this time. I repeated my "fancy another?" to my Monday night darling and she sat there, looked at the bar, made no move towards her handbag and told me that yes, indeed, she would like me to put my hand in my pocket for the third time and I should be glad of the privilege.
"Grand so," says I, as I fuckin' eejited my way up to the bar for a 'same again.'
What a ruse, what a bunch of bollocks, what misplaced chivalry on my part as she spent an hour bitching about the government and the rest of the time going on about what she hates, how she hates the things she hates and how she'd hate to be a person just like other people.
It finished 1-0 to me, though.
I had a "headache."