Clive Bixby

Clive has great banter and likes Modern Family. Brilliant. Clive is also a 23 year old Northern banker wanker. Not so brilliant. When did this become my type?

Anyway, he asked me out. He suggested a pizza place near his and drinks in Chinatown after. He messaged me the day before to make sure I was still up for it, but he didn’t give me a time. So when half of Saturday passed by and I still hadn’t heard from him, I figured he’d lost interest. I didn’t really understand why; he’d seemed keen and I’m a catch.

6 o’clock rolled around and he finally text me saying he was sorry, he’d been out all day with a dead phone and that he would still like to do something if I was up for it. I knew I should have made him wait, but I’ve always been bad at playing games. I told him that I’d made other dinner plans but could meet him for a drink after. 10 minutes later he said that he’d been drinking a lot that week, and I should come to his house instead for a movie or something. As if I didn’t already know what that meant, he followed it by saying

I would have tried to get you back here anyway, this just cuts out the drinking in the middle

Brilliant. Needless to say, I cancelled. When did it become acceptable to just skip the wooing altogether? At least allow me the pretence of a date. I probably would have slept with you, Clive. Good luck with that now.

I wish

I wish

 

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