First date with an accountant (slap me about the face with a wet haddock if I EVER go to do this again). First, a run-down of the number of suits he has and how they should be circulated to get the maximum amount of wear (sadly, I know all about this since in my distant past I have been out with someone who worked at Burberry's). We get lost and he has no idea where we are going, although he does remember the restaurant address (I navigate us there). When we are sat down and eating, he regales me with stories of his dairy allergy and complete, unedited details of what effects this has on him, with no "too much information" warning. I have to let him know that this is not a good time to tell me.Originally Posted by Clive Long
I'm listening to details of past holidays and redundancy packages when I find myself looking into his eyes and thinking "I'm so bored, I'm so bored, I'm so bored .... I know, I'll get drunk". I try a mouthful of the wine and realise that it is so bad that I can't drink it, much less consume enough to have any effect. This is the first time in my life I have had this problem.
The only good thing I could find in the evening is that it was so bad that it goes in my annals of stories I can tell when I'm old and incontinent, along with being attacked with a crystal vase by a crazed woman and interviews with INXS and Stevie Wonder.
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