"Hand it over. Hand it over. Hand it over."
This was a really nice evening, although she was a bit lethargic having turned up very hungover from the night before and stopped drinking alcohol after a pint.
I found her extremely attractive and great company although I'm struggling to remember much more about her. The highlight of the night was definitely a Hen Party on the next table. They were doing dares and asked me for my sock, which I was reluctant to hand over, but they promised to give it back. Unfortunately, the over exuberant bride to be got a bit carried away and threw my sock over the wall onto the sand below and an ashen faced friend of hers came over, almost in tears, to tell me the bad news and profusely apologise. I just laughed and said it was fine as long as she bought me and my 'friend' a drink each, which she did. Later on in the evening the inebriated bride to be came over with my retrieved sock and for the rest of the evening proceeded to shower me with all the other socks she'd managed to collect from other men so by the end of the night I had a huge stockpile. Suffice to say I left them behind but stuffed my own in my bag.
At the end of the evening I walked her to the tube station and she asked if she could text me so I would know that she got home safely and she did. Then, true to form, I contacted her a few days later to ask about another drink and she told me she was busy and I never heard from her again.
No comments:
Post a Comment