- You chuck the shits because you weren't allowed into the bar you choose because you were under dressed.
- You keep going on and on about not being allowed into the bar, even though you spent a couple of hundred dollars in there last weekend.
- You spend 20 minutes texting people telling them how shit it was you weren't allowed into the bar.
- You keep checking your mobile phone constantly for the rest of the night.
- You openly eye every attractive man that walks past.
- You loudly sigh as a particularly fine specimen walks past us.
- You unashamedly mention how much the mortgage is on your inner-valley town house. More than once.
- You unashamedly mention how your next overseas jaunt is costing you and how much you're expecting your parents to pay for. MORE THAN ONCE.
- You expect me to understand you work-specific jargon.
- You don't bother to ask any questions about my life/habits/likes/dislikes thereby learning absolutely nothing about me.
- You expect me to care about anything you had to say.
But with that sort of mind set, it was bound to fail. Way too many uncomfortable silences (well one is too many really).
Things were so bad at one stage that when he took an extremely long time in the toilet I had thought he had possibly done a runner.
AND I WAS HAPPY.
But he came back. When he told me that he was heading home because he was tired, I almost bolted out the door. At least there was no pretense of calling each other soon.
I'm sure it beats sitting at home alone on a Friday night, but not by much.