‘How are you?,’ the waiter asked, but before I had time to reply he continued, ‘Table for one?’
‘It’s sooo good to see you,’ another trilled, taking my coat off me. It was the first time I’d returned to what was previously my local Italian restaurant since the break-up with Hot Danish. I didn’t mind the overbearing solicitousness, but ‘Table for one?’ Really. Had a picture of the girl I’d seen photographed with HD, the jobless, fake-boobed American (who had ‘juicy’ in her Twitter handle name; yes, I’d stalked her), flashed in the waiter’s mind which led to the faux pas; had he assumed I was a modern single woman; or that I didn’t have any friends?
I took a stool at the bar and ordered a glass of Prosecco while I waited for Jess and Luisa to arrive. Before long I was catching up with the girls about work faux pas and disastrous dates in the ‘Dam over a pizza and a second glass of Prosecco. ‘Even my hook-up is unreliable,’ Luisa said. ‘He’ll call me and then not turn up.’
‘I know all about stand-up guys,’ I empathised.
‘And when he does turn up he outstays his welcome. Last time I nearly missed my flight because I couldn’t get rid of him.’
‘I had a Tinder date a few evenings ago with a guy who kept commenting on the tightness of my trousers,’ Jess said. ‘I thought that he was trying to compliment my legs. However, I realised there wasn’t a language barrier when he dropped me home and mentioned that I had camel toe.’ We all erupted into laughter. ‘How did you respond?’ I asked.
‘Well he had the gall to ask me out again. Needless to say, I said no.’
‘And will you be wearing those trousers again?’ Luisa asked.
‘They’re my favourite trousers.’
‘Don’t leave it so long next time,’ the waiter said as he held out my coat for me. Hmm, I have the beau from Belgrade visiting next weekend. That’s if he boards that flight…
