Standby…..Battle Dates & Purple Dinosaurs Ahead

Thank fuck January is over. My flatmate informed me that it had 71 days this year instead of the standard 50.
So basically, I got serially ghosted and fucked around in January. After such a run of bad luck, when the day arrived for my date with Yasir I was amazed it was happening at all. At T-100 minutes I was putting on my freshly ironed shirt when I got this…..
“Not feeling 2 great, got a cold, can we postpone?”.
This also happened to be the day that the last person I ever wanted to see again turned up at my flat with an estate agent. If you’re thinking “surely he didn’t turn up”, well unfortunately yes he did.
Yasir had picked the worst day to piss me off. I wasn’t in the mood to pretend it was fine, so I wrote…..
“It’s a bit late to be cancelling man, let’s not bother rearranging. “
I’d have to be on death’s door to do that on a first date. You only get one chance to make a first impression.
I had made my point, I was not to be fucked with. Minutes later I discovered that he also had a point to make.
“I’m not a flake, I can’t stand people thinking I’m a flake. If you still want to, I can make tonight even though I’m ill”’
I wasn’t giving in.
“Go on then, I’ll see you in a bit”
We arrived at the pub already slightly hating each other. It wasn’t a date, it was a battle of the wills. One long hour later we left the pub having both made our points. He wasn’t a flake, I wasn’t to be fucked with. Oh, one more point that I noticed, he didn’t seem to be remotely ill.
I can’t be doing with flakes. I was telling a friend of mine that I had a feeling my next romance would be with a CEO type who was dependable, reliable and had his shit together.
Lo and behold that’s exactly what (could have) happened. Nick was the CFO of a company you will have heard of. The date was actually so good that we agreed to have date two the following night.
At some point in this 20-hour gap, Nick developed the mannerisms of Barney the Dinosaur. I’m talking massive exaggerated hand gestures and expressions, and a rate of speech that was half of that the night before. I couldn’t tell if it was a practical joke, a head injury or just a fuck load of drugs. I couldn’t wait to get out of there.
Alright, back to this month, I’m on Jury service and so far I haven’t been called once. As if that’s not boring enough, one of my fellow jurors is ‘entertaining’ us with his story about a laser printer that sometimes goes into standby mode and won’t come out of it. He’s sending me into fucking standby, Jesus Christ.
Shutting down
Harrison out
PS Bubbles, this one’s for you!