....in the heat of this bar, me and The Copper talked.

'In my line of work,' he yelled in my ear, so loud were the cheesy songs being played, 'I see so much grief and horror that when I meet someone,' - and here, he paused. He'd done this before but at the time, I thought it really was the thought of Me that had led him to look at me with love in his eyes. It was probably just beer, I now realise. '...like you, I don't want to let them go.'

You know, I should've heard the warning bells when he said 'someone like you.' Not 'you,' not even my name, but just a feint parallel. This parallel, I was later to discover went along the lines of....

a/ Pulse
b/ Full complement of limbs
c/ Susceptible to flattery
d/ Gender not really a burning issue but nice if (s)/he has long hair

I think I giggled. I may even have said something but he was intent on having me almost immediately and invited me home.

'Here's a photo of my pad,' he said. Again, I'm kicking myself for not noticing that a man who uses the word 'pad,' is almost always emotionally obsolete. He scrolled through his phone for a pic but accidentally opened one of a girl, long dark hair in what looked like a negligee.

'Whoops!' he laughed, 'She's my....cousin.'

I can only admit that my cognitive facilities, at that point, could've only been improved by a bayonet in the head.

The pic eventually appeared. It was a farm-house. My heart leapt.

'Here is a man who can love me! And he owns a farmhouse! Maybe he owns some ho-

'I own some horses, too,' he said, reading my mind, so transparent in its premature glory that the words probably scrolled across my eyeballs like subtitles.


And at that point, I think we kissed, he stroked my bum and I left the bar on a high.

No, people, this doesn't end here!