Hey!! What's the story?
You can’t beat the buzz of a blind date and the step in to the unknown. To be fair, that was an exaggeration as you can see their photos on the site and chat to them online first, so despite its claims, you’re not going in to it that blind after all. There had even been occasions when the right prompts and questions coupled with a bit of clever detective work has led to finding their Facebook profile.
Hey, come on, don’t judge, you would look them up too if you’d found out their name, ‘to be forewarned is to be forearmed’ as my Mum would say.
A red head was new territory for me but the run of blondes that I met recently had got me a bit of a reputation, so I had filtered them out of the search. I was annoyed tonight though as it was instantly obvious she had used an old picture and had since dyed her hair. Not ideally what I wanted from this meet but, to be honest, mine was an old one too so she is probably ‘powdering her nose’ and rueing her choice this evening as well.
I can’t help my eyes flitting up and down her as she walked back towards the bar where we were sat, seeing if I could penetrate that black dress for a peek underneath. My glasses are as good as the x-ray ones advertised in the comics I read as a kid, so my brain fills in the missing information.
Her perfume arrests my nose as she slips in next to me. We had been making small talk about the rolling news that slid along the bottom of the TV screen. The police reckon that they have found significance evidence in their search for the psychopath that has been preying on the women in the city.
Looking up she says, “I’d feel a lot happier once they’ve caught that sicko. All us women will. Apparently he drugs them, slips something in to their drinks. God knows what goes through their mind when they come round to find where they are. I dread to think.” She actually shudders at the thought.
I’ve only kept a cursory look on the news but agree as it would’ve been an awkward silence if I hadn’t. I start fumbling in my pocket, turning the tablets there in my fingers. It’s just something I do when I feel a little nervous, uncomfortable, you know when you are about to build to the crescendo of the night, the big finish.
She leans a little closer as the noise levels in the bar turn up.
“Apparently he goes for blondes, the weirdo doing all this. That’s a stroke of luck for me I suppose.”
I suppose it is but as they say, a change is as good as a rest and I think that tonight is going to be particularly headline grabbing.
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