Many moons ago when I was young, single, and on the d-hunt (sorry, Mum), I met a lovely lady on a big group weekend away.
Now this story isn’t going to turn into the secret confessions of a lesbian affair. The lovely lady was substantially older than me and a few wines deep, after I mentioned being single, she revealed she had a son I just had to meet.
After another few wines, she was sending him pictures of me, telling me all about him. His name was Donald*, he had a good job in sales and he was very handsome.
Donald and I added each other on Facebook and started chatting away, mainly about how funny his mother was.
*His name absolutely is not Donald but you know, privacy.
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This was in November and we struck up almost a semi-relationship via text. In retrospect, it was extremely weird, we would text most days, send each other pictures and profess our excitement for when we would finally meet up.
Given it was the busiest time of the year and we were both social little butterflies, the anticipated meet up didn’t happen before Christmas. Over Christmas, he rang a few times making my mother raise her eyebrows and offer up ‘he seems a bit keen’.
A few days after New Year’s, he texted me late one afternoon that he would be in my area if I wanted to grab a drink.