My Little Pony and I chat about the music and how we both nearly didn’t come tonight. He garbles a sentence I don't quite get which contains the word ‘girlfriend.’ I pull away from him, acknowledging my disappointment and my heart purses its lips and folds its arms across its chest. I renege on the leg deal and look around the crowd to see if I can spot her. There is a chunky girl chatting nearby but she hardly looks his type.
I decide not let His attachment spoil My evening and we continue conversing. The fact that I’m an antique dealer and he’s a plasterer doesn’t bother me one iota. I'm hardly going to take him home to meet my mother - unless her ceiling falls down. When he gives me his card ‘just in case’ I think to myself: You can get me plastered any time! which I’m sure he’s heard a million times before.
At 11.30 p.m. people start drifting home. The 'girlfriend' is deeply ensconced with some other guys and I ask him outright if she's the one. No! he shakes his head. She's just a mate. He and his girlfriend split up four weeks ago. I’d misunderstood and relief spreads through me like warm butter. My leg returns to its cruise setting and we get deeper into each other.
The pub is closing and as we get up to leave, he asks if we can meet up for a drink sometime. I tell him my daughter is about to get married (true) and I am busy for the next 3 weeks (false). I then write my number on the back of his card and give it back to him. (Doh! Now I don’t have his number…!) He walks me to my car and kisses me three times on the mouth. As he moves in for the fourth, he lingers awhile, parts his lips and snakes his tongue lightly against mine. A sharp intake of lust curdles my stomach. I feel like dragging him headfirst into the back seat and ravishing him, but instead I giggle girlishly, place my palms flat on his firm pecs, give him a gentle push and say: ‘Go!’
I drive home la-la-ing a love song, a huge grin creasing my face.