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  • Writer's picturesophie sherwin

Cop a Load of That - Part Two

Two people on a date
Date Night

Next week rolls around and I have drafted about 50 texts to him to cancel. It’s amazing how many times this last week I drafted texts to say my cat died (even though I don’t have one), my aunt was in hospital, my boss needs me to work, I have to sort my wardrobe, I broke a toenail, my eyelashes are in the wash, astrologically it is not the right time, it is too cold, too hot or I am just into him, I am not looking for a relationship…blah blah – anything to get me out of this, BUT I don’t send any of them. I think to myself, and mention it to Alexa for advice but who is no help in this decision, that I want must go. Maybe I am just bigging this anxiety all up in my head and he really is my knight in shining armour, you never know.

The night falls upon me and I gather as much up of my respectability, enthusiasm and bags and leave the office in plenty of time for me to get there and have a large sneaky glass of wine to calm my nerves.

I find a table which is in the middle of the room and so I can face the door and order my wine. I look around the pub which is full and very noisy but has a good atmosphere. I get out my phone to check for any messages and sit there and pray he will cancel. Around fifteen minutes I look up from my phone and see him loitering above me with a boyish grin on his face. It startles me slightly but I put on my best smile and say hi. He de-robes and sits down. Groomed within an inch of his life with very slicked hair, I can almost see the reflection of the ceiling in his gel, freshly shaved so his boy beard has gone. I am hit with a mixture of shower gel and aftershave which grabs the back of my throat and I start coughing. Wide eyed he asks if I am okay, to which I reply after gulping down the rest of my wine, that I am fine.

He sits there staring at me and I am not sure what to do, so I suggest he goes and gets a drink from the bar.

“oh yes, right. Ummm… do you want ANOTHER one?” Oh dear I think, with the iteration on the word another, I can feel and hear his disapproval but I don’t care so I say yes. He walks off and I shout after him “ A LARGE one, please”, he looks back with judgey eyes but I smile which seems to relax him, he turns then gets swallowed up by the crowd.

What seemed like an eternity, he comes back with his drink and a small glass for me (strike two…), I look at it, then to him with a frown but half expecting and hoping that he says he was only joking and produce a bottle from his pocket but no such luck.

We sit there with first date awkward silence which is finally broken by the small talk. We of course luckily had something in common which was our distain for criminals. Although I did tell him that if there were no criminals he would be out of a job but of course that fell flat and he proceeded to tell me seriously that that would never happen (no shit sherlock), but he did come into his own and was quite interesting when he talked about his job. But of course, he was doing all the talking and I was doing all the drinking and by the end of his stories I was drier than psoriasis skin (strike three). I glanced at my watch and saw that only about ten minutes had in fact past.

‘Sophie…slow down” said in my mothers voice in my head.

“I am going to the bar to get some – win – I mean water, excuse me please”.

I get up and decide to pop to the toilet first to re-group. I sit on the loo and watch the bathroom tiles dancing, shit.

Walking back to the table it was like the crowd parted and I was doing a catwalk.

My POV of his view: “Wow, here she comes. God she looks incredible, I cannot wait ‘til I get her into bed”.

His real POV: “Good god, she is a disaster and clearly a drunk. Look at her swaying everywhere, and she has toilet paper stuck to her shoe!”

I sit down, nearly missing the stool but manage to save and compose myself beautifully.

Brian VO “Dear god, help me”

Brian “Where’s your water?”

Me “huh?’


I stare at him wondering if he is having a stroke until it dawns on me what he is saying. I wonder if he slipped something in my drink as I really was quite tipsy, but then I thought of the two glasses of wine I had had on an empty stomach in the space of someone taking a shit and realised he probably hadn’t. So, off I went to the bar.

I came back with a glass of water and a small glass, I put it down and see a horrified look on his face.

“The waiter made me do it” I say indignantly and fed up with his judgement.

I sit and try to lighten this disaster and ask him about his family.

At this point I have to ask if any of you have ever had a threesome? I do not actually mean a physical one but one like Princess Diana who said there were three people in the marriage. Well now, he started to talk about this mother and that was it, he did not seem to be able to stop talking about her for the rest of the date (ding, ding, ding – complete knockout). Oh and did I mention the crooked teeth that was quite literally making my stomach churn? It gave me the ‘ick’.

I think we had both managed to endure quite enough and when I realised there was not going to be any food involved, I said I had to leave.

There was no objection from his camp, so I think it was safe to say that this was not going to end in a proposal.

We leave the table with his drink only half finished and mine gone like a whippet chasing a rabbit, I glance again at my watch and realise this date lasted all of one hour and thirteen minutes.

We get outside and said our goodbyes (it was actually more like thank fuck), and I thought it was going to be smooth walking away but when I turned to walk off, I realised he was walking beside me – oh yes of course he was going the same bloody way.

Crap, how do I handle this one? Well with dignity, poise and grace of course and trip over a loose pavement and fall straight into him. He of course catches me (actually, he doesn’t have any choice) and it could have been a very romantic moment but of course it wasn’t, as when I stand up I stare at his white shirt. There is a makeup stain proudly swiped down the middle. He looks down.

“What the fuck? My mum just washed this!”

“So, sorry, it wasn’t my fault. I, I can wash it, I can send it to the dry cleaners”

“NO! only my mum can touch my washing”

I grimace at the statement and luckily for me, I am a grown up and can take cues from people to walk away, so I do. I walk in the opposite direction muttering again how sorry I am.

I walk for about twenty minutes in the wrong direction until I think it is safe enough to turn around.

I get back to the bar and pause by the door. I hear a voice to the side of the entrance.

“I think you had a lucky escape there.”

I turn to the voice and see this astonishingly good-looking man grinning at me.

“Excuse me?”

“I saw what happened”.

“Good god, are you stalking me?”

Me in my head wishing that were true.

“No, but I was curious to see the goodbye” he says chuckling.

“I take it you won’t be seeing him again?”

I smile at him, glazed eyes.

“Can I get your number and I will show you how a real date should go”.

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