Coming hard on the heels of my "Don't hate the player, hate the game" line, I've now gone and used another sickening cliche. Its not you, its me. I'm almost starting to dislike myself.....

I was dating the air stewardess again on saturday night and I went into it with an open mind. I liked her on almost every level, apart from the fact she was trying to speed things along quicker than Usain Bolt hurtles down a track. After our last date, I almost called things off, but I thought maybe after her work trip to Hong Kong the previous week, she may have come back a bit more relaxed....

As usual, she drove up to my place and we headed out into Clapham. I took her to a nice Italian place that I know and we settled down to some good food and wine. The conversation was flowing and I was starting to forget what it was that had made me even contemplate having the "chat" with her. She is sexy, good fun and generally a really decent girl. What the fuck is my problem?...

Well, this is my problem. As we finished up the meal and headed to a bar, she by this time was a little tipsy. We'd only shared a bottle of wine so I was still pretty much stone cold sober. She had locked her arm in mine and we were strolling quite happily along when she came out with "I really like it in Clapham. I could see myself living here"....

Within milliseconds of the final word of that sentence, I had stiffened up as though rigormortis had set in, my heart had stopped beating and I felt my sweat glands filling up. Some may say I'm over reacting, but those 12 words changed the course of an evening. This was only the fourth time we had met and already she had probed me about where our relationship was heading. Now she was putting into my sub conscious that she would like to live near - or possibly with, I wasn't about to ask - me. I muttered something back about it being a nice area, then dragged her into the first bar in sight - I needed a drink.....

I had paid for dinner so she offered to get the first drinks in. Whilst she was at the bar, my mind was working overtime to think of how to politely say I think we should move on. My first attempt was using the fact that I was her first date on Match - I suggested in a jovial manner that she should arrange some more dates to see what the compettition is like and it was a waste of her subscription fee to date just one guy. That didn't seem to register and she just laughed it off and told me to stop being silly....I'm really not.....

Then I started on with the fact that there must be a reason why I've had so few long term girlfriends. Listing all my bad points wasn't difficult, but again this just seemed to get jokingly swept aside. I headed off for a toilet break to gather my thoughts and as I locked myself in the cubicle, it came to me. Who would have thought a toilet seat could give such inspiration, but its as if it spoke to me....
 
Remebering that I had told her I used cocaine a fair bit - mainly being snorted on one knee in bar/nightclub cubicles, hence the inspiration - I suddenly saw fit for me to lie and say I had gone back to substance abuse and needed help before I could even contemplate letting anoyone into my life. Fucking genius. She doesn't feel like she is getting the brush off, her heart goes out to me, I get to walk away knowing that her feelings aren't damaged, everyone, quite simply, is a winner...

As I headed back down to the bar, I took a deep breath ready for a De Niro like acting performance...and to be fair I didn't disappoint with the conclusion of the story ending with a "So honey, its nothing to do with you. This is my problem and once I sort myself out, hopefully we can see where things go from there".  I really think I handed my balls in a birth sometimes as I am such a coward to the bitter end. I've never finshed properly with anyone in my life as generally I just wait till I get the elbow, tell massive lies as above or I just stop answering calls and emails in the knowledge that they will eventually go away. As I said earlier, I'm starting to dislike me as well.....

Anyway, she was convinced by my little Oscar worthy performance and we ended up having  a few more drinks, then heading back to mine as she had driven up. In the morning, for some reason it felt like a massive weight had been lifted and I was slighlty proud of myself as she left in fairly good spirits and told me to email her if I needed anything. Who said honesty is the best policy......