We walk to the taxi rank. Joe gives his address to the lady behind the desk, who glances at her computer screen.
‘Two minutes,’ she says.
He turns to me. ‘Well, it was great to meet you!’
‘We should hang out sometime.’
Hang out? I think I know how to do that.
‘That’d be cool.’
‘I’m thinking of trying some funk dancing. Would you… be interested at all?’
The man could have invited me to watch paint dry and I’d have said yes.
‘Yeah, I’ll give it a go!’
Good, kinda casual.
‘Shall we swap numbers?’
He holds out his phone; I type in my number.
‘Errr give me a missed call or something.’
The taxi driver is getting impatient. Quick kiss on the cheek, a hasty good night, and he’s gone.
Ten minutes later I’m sitting in a taxi, homeward bound, trying to figure out how to save his number without calling it. My phone flashes up with a text.
Hey, it was really cool to meet you! Drop me a text when you’re home safe? Joe x
So what is funk dancing?