Tick fucking tock.
I'm in a horrible bout of clock watching, the big hand telling the little hand that this dating nonsense is truly a ruse to bring us single stupids all the way to a drunken, early, hazy grave.
Wear the red jumper. Don't wear the red jumper. Clad yourself in a suit. Don't be a fucking muppet, she knows you have the week off work. The hoodie's too casual, maybe the shirt with the buttons that pop. No, not that.
Tick.
I'll wear the blue one to bring out my eyes, which will dart in a most clandestine way to the Liverpool match that I'm going to miss while I woo, the goal being some measure of scandal or the thrust to write again.
Tock.
Pray for a cancellation that won't come. Check the iron. Another cup of tea. The watch again. Warm enough for the nice jacket. Bring a purple snack. Don't ask about old injuries. The rounds issue. The blushing issue and the keyring in the pocket, fingered as a makeshift stressball.
Don't mention the blog.
Tick.
11 comments:
Don't mention the blog. LOVE IT.
Hope all went well, anyhow?
It did, then it didn't. More fodder at least.
NEVER wear the red jumper.
It would totally clash with your whiskey-burnt nose.
Take it from me and don't [ie do not EVER] agonise before you go out.
Mook - I wanted to burn myself in single malt come the end.
Conan - I'm a hoor for the overthinking. I'll consult with you next time.
Put a fresh scone in your pocket right up until you enter the pub. She'll not resist you if she thinks you can bake (even if you don't).
You poor, anxious sod. Despite all the advice from us here, we've all over-thought it and suffered.
Maybe that's why I ended up with Love Chunks - meeting as share housemates meant that we both knew how long the other had spent in the bathroom before our first official date.
You mentioned the blog.
Didn't you?
The scone idea, hmmm, well, desperate times call for baking.
Thanks Kath - I live alone but things are getting serious between me and my couch. I think it's love.
Hangar Queen - I'll never tell.
Here was me thinking that men just pulled on clothes prior to a date with no major analysis :)
Green of Eye - We never admit to the preamble.
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