The best night of my life


I got chatting to a cute guy at a bar. He seemed nice enough but I didn’t think much of it; turned out he was a lot younger than I’d first thought, and we didn’t have anything in common. Indeed, it turned out pretty quickly that we were interested in entirely different things.

Him: “Are you going to come home with me?”

Me: “What? No, of course not.”

Him: “Why not? It’ll be the best night of your life”

Me: “I sincerely doubt that.”

Him: “Come on, come home with me. I’m really into you.”

Me: “What’s my name, then?”

Him: “OK, I don’t remember, but it doesn’t really matter, does it? No names, no numbers, this is just for tonight. You’ll regret it forever if you don’t.”

Me: “Really, no, I don’t think I will. I’m not going to go home with you.”

He was genuinely bemused and then proceeded to follow me around for the next half hour repeatedly whining, “But it’ll be the best night of your life! It’ll be magical! You’ll regret it forever if you don’t!”.

He became more and more indignant as I kept refusing. When the bar closed, he made one last effort to follow me back to the tube. I told him, in no uncertain terms, to leave me alone and eventually he stomped off into the night.

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