#75: The World’s First Ever Monster Truck Front Flip

This post will be an exhibition in turning a short series of events into 1000 words.

I had finished having a few drinks in with Pink Panther, Mr White and Roy Walker before boarding the train at Oxford Circus. There was an enormous rush of people heading towards the train station due to the bars closing at 10pm and Roy remarked that now was the best time for Daygame. He might have been right. Get talking to girls on their way home and then suggest a walk which miraculously ends at your house.

A police officer was stationed at either end of the tube barriers to check that people were wearing their masks.

“Have you got your mask” he asked me.

“I have an exemption,” I replied.

“Oh! Sorry!” and he went back to checking the other entrants.

The government has put itself into a corner. If you have an exemption you don’t need to wear a mask on public transport, in shops, etc. However, you don’t need to prove that you have an exemption. In a world where “not every disability is visible” and to ask someone about it is offensive or “ableist” having an exemption is like having a reusable get out of jail free card.

I got off the train and started walking towards my house. Two girls came towards me and I locked eyes with the one closest to me. I’m not going to dress her up. She was a six. Quite large in the boob department but at 31 she’d let the vices of western living get to her too much and her eyes had lost the spark of youth.

I compared her in my mind to a girl that Salman had been seeing in Prague. She was 35 or 36, I can’t recall, but on the surface it appeared her habits had been much better. If a girl maintains her exercise regime, eats healthily and doesn’t smoke or drink or party too much then the half life of her looks will be much, much longer. It’s also good if she combines that with a growing sense of elegance and an improving knowledge of style. This is, in essence, to “grow old with grace.” Women aren’t useless once they decline from their peak looks, far from it, but this is their greatest source of anxiety: “what if no one likes me when I’m older?” The important thing is that they have something to offer beyond their looks which will last long after their looks fade.

Now back to me.

I clocked the IOI and walked a few paces before looking back at them. Her friend was now looking back at me. I walked a few paces and looked again. Now they had stopped walking. The friend had evidently convinced her friend to stop walking.

“Hey! Yes. Stop there,” I called back. They both laughed as they knew I was going to come and chat up the IOI girl now. I took my headphones out and walked back up the road towards them.

I’d only been hesitant in opening since it was a two-set; I don’t normally do two sets. I don’t have the impetus to do them in the same way as a solo girl but honestly I don’t miss out on much. It seems that for a two-set to work for you you need the friend to be approving of the match, and that’s hard to do considering most girls walk around where there’s a clear disparity of looks between the two (the “grenade” which the wing has to dive on). The less attractive one normally gets angry at all the attention her friend gets over her. Luckily for me I later found out that the friend was a mother and so probably she just thought it was funny that some random guy was talking to her friend.

The friend courteously stepped aside and let us talk: a tacit approval.

“So, we just had a moment there, didn’t we,” I said to her, acknowledging the IOI.

We chatted for a few minutes and I found out that she was in London for a couple of days, visiting from the midlands, and so I quickly invited her for a drink.

“Let’s go for one now,” I suggested, though obviously nothing would be open. In reality I planned to walk her to my front door and see if she would come in. Better to act now given the limited timeframe I had to meet her again.

“No I need to go back to the hotel with my friend,” she replied.

“Okay well then let’s exchange numbers and do something while you’re here.” My mind immediately raced through the possible meeting times. This would have to go fast. Very fast.

I took her number, went home and after about 20 minutes sent my ping. I wasn’t going to have the same thing happen to me as with that Croatian girl from Prague and so I made sure my phone was set to loud.

She responded near instantly. I told her I knew a bar which was open all night and the drinks were free. She was interested (though she would have known nothing was open anyway). I sent her my address. She clocked that it was my place and asked if it was. I said yes. She asked if I wanted to come to her hotel. I asked whether she’d want me to get her a cab to mine (I would rather control the logistics). She said she didn’t want to go to a stranger’s place. I agreed to come to her hotel. She sent the address. I walked there and messaged her that I was outside. She let me in.

+1.

Afterwards I confirmed that she was a raging slut, though it didn’t come as a surprise. She talked about meeting guys on Bumble and that it was easy to get laid. I refrained from responding to that.

Her friend was staying in another room and had told her not to make too much noise so that it woke her up.

Not my proudest lay but it was handed to me on a platter.

Yours unfaithfully,

Thomas Crown

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