I was busy minding my business in the launderette sorting through clothes from the dryer. When I do my laundry I like to wear a cap with the rim low so I don’t have to make eye contact with anyone, and I’m usually wearing the last dregs of my wardrobe because all the good stuff is being cleaned. It’s not a time for socialising, or meeting hot guys!
The hot guy walks in and I catch a glimpse of him and recognise that he is the guy I went on a date with at the weekend. I am mortified. I don’t have my make-up on, my hair is a mess underneath my cap, and I’m wearing my tatty ripped jeans.
I’m praying that he doesn’t recognise me, but he does. I don’t know how he does, because when I got out I look completely different to when I do my laundry. He was unfortunately really excited to see me, which meant I had to engage in conversation. I was trying to remember if I had bothered to brush my teeth before leaving the house. I live just round the corner, laundry day is the day I don’t usually bother to brush my hair or shower, I just pull on an old jumper, my trusty cap, and go.
The hot guy is chatting loudly to me and laughing, drawing attention to us. Then he offer to help fold my laundry. I try to say no but it’s too late, I’m struggling with bed sheets and he has grabbed the other end – oh no, is this the one with the ominous stain on it? No, phew.
It was torture, he was handling all of my intimates, chatting away like it was nothing. I was dying inside. Then when we had finished he wanted to go for lunch at the greasy spoon cafe next door, and had the cheeky to take my cap off for me when I sat down! He said he wanted to see me better. It was the worst afternoon of my life, and I can’t believe how into me he was. More into me than when we were on the actual date! Men are so weird.