“So…so, let me get this straight. You went to a party at her boyfriend’s house. You got very, very drunk. You told her you loved her. And later you were sick on your hands.” “And on my coat. And a bit on the carpet.”
I’m on the tube heading to a cocktail bar when my date texts me: “So sorry, running 15 minutes late!” I tell her not to worry, head to the bar and settle into my seat with a glass of wine.