Good Date Gone Bad

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‘Which direction are you headed in?’anywhere

‘I need to find a Piccadilly line station.’

‘Leicester Square.’  I point up the road.  ‘I can get the Northern line from there.’

‘Cool.’

We walk on in silence.  I ask Joe about his plans for the week; he tells me.


We’re nearly at the station.  He half-turns to face me.

‘I had a really nice time this evening…’

‘Me too.’

I take his arm.  He hasn’t finished.

‘I did have a really nice time…’

He comes to a standstill.  I let go of his arm.

‘…but…’

Fuck.

‘… I don’t think it’s going to – ’

‘Go anywhere.’

Wow.  I didn’t know people actually said things like that.

‘But I would really like to be friends.’

‘Hmm….’

‘Cos I think you’re really cool.’

I might have made that line up; I was in a slight state of shock.

‘Well, thank you for telling me.’

‘I wanted to say it in person.  I didn’t want to tell you by text….’

No, because then I’d have never found out.

He repeats the offer of friendship.  I’m non-committal.  He finishes up,

‘… maybe not straightaway.’

‘Yeah… well… thanks….’ For what?  ‘…for being straight with me.’

So bloody polite.  My parents would be proud.

‘I do think a lot of you.’

I force a smile, and gesture vaguely in the direction from which we’ve come.

‘I’ll go from Charing Cross.’

‘OK.’

I turn, still in a state of shock, and walk slowly in the direction of Trafalgar Square.  Some Waterloo.

CC Image courtesy of Robin Kearney on Flickr


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