The ‘there’ to which he was referring was pricey, and reputed to serve the best food south of the river. Cue violent internal struggle: gourmande versus Miss Independent.
Fast forward to the night of the date. Flatmate fires off a checklist:
I don’t hesitate. ‘He’s paying.’
Sharp intake of breath from Flatmate. I leap to my own defence. ‘He said it would be on him.’
‘Yeah but still. I hate it when a girl takes it for granted.’
So do I. Five minutes later, I leave the house, debit card in tow.
We get up to leave.
‘Errr…erm…the bill?’ I say.
‘It’s taken care of.’
‘Bad, but thank you.’