He bought us tickets to the rugby. I *hate* rugby, but went along anyway, tempted with the promise of him cooking me a romantic supper afterwards.

During the match, I started feeling unwell. Back at his, he told me to go and have a nap while he cooked dinner, and that he’d wake me when it was ready.

I woke a while later, starving hungry. The flat was dark, and I couldn’t smell anything cooking. I ventured into the lounge, where my date and his flat mate were watching TV.

“Is supper going to be ready soon?” I asked.

“Well, I cooked it, but I didn’t want to wake you, so [my flatmate] and I ate it instead” came the reply.

I was famished. They’d finished the meal between them. There wasn’t so much as an offer of toast.

I sulked off home. We split shortly afterwards.