I got stood up today.

Had arranged to meet a banker off the internet, but he didn't confirm the date. As I was doing something in Harrow and it was past 5:30pm, I decided to go shopping. As I was browsing through Primark, I get this text from him, saying "I am in the middle of the bar". I looked at the time, and indeed it was past 7pm but as I hadn't heard I didn't think it was going ahead. Whatever happened to ringing people on the phone!?
Anyway, I text him back telling him I'd gone shopping and if he could hang on for 45 minutes?

I then got me and my huge bags onto the train but when I tried phoning him it went straight to ansaphone.I left a brief message saying I was on my way despite the misunderstanding.
I arrived at the bar at 8pm, checked my bags into the cloak room, and he was nowhere to be seen. I went to the ladies and received a text that he had "thought he'd tried to contact me", but was now on his way home. great. What a waste of time!

I started moaning at a fellow woman at the sinks, and she was sympathetic but she had another problem to deal with- her strap had come off her dress, so I sewed up it for her.
She then invited me to her table for a drink. Glad to have something to do other than go home, and assuming it would be a group of people I joined her- but it turned out just to be her and her date, a wealthy-looking guy in his forties.

I had some of their wine, they offered me (very nice!) food too, and I regaled them with funny stories about my dodgy dates and life, then I discovered it was actually their 12th anniversary. They were really sweet and charming, but after I had eaten more food then them and began to feel a bit tipsy, I said thank you and goodbye and left. I was so happy to have met them though, what a waste of a night otherwise!

I checked out my Primark bags from the cloakroom (bet they'd never had anything like them in this posh place!), and tried calling my lover on my way to the tube.
His phone was unavailable.
Then I rang Sanderson-boy, the musical friend of mine who I had the wild night at the hotel with in March. No luck either, but I bumped into one of my gay mates in the station. Nice catching up!

Then as I was home, my lover rang without making much sense, saying he was playing drinking games. Oh the joy of being a professional sportsperson! ;-)
I questioned him why he'd rung me at 4:43am the other night, but he just shot straight back why I'd tried to call him earlier? The joy of communication...
Ah well, I will have to go to bed drunk and horny...
;-)
The banker can forget about me, what a wet blanket!