THE HANGOVER
Updated: Feb 27, 2020
I was quite flattered that, despite his 4am finish at some party, my date still managed to meet me at The Old City Arms on Hammersmith Bridge. His bleary eyes seemed to glisten under the low lights that reflected off his remarkably hairless scalp.
Talking, moving and breathing was clearly an effort so we ordered some food – he brightened up in direct proportion to how much sustenance he consumed and by the end of the meal his eyes opened fully and he suggested a walk along the Thames.
As we strolled alongside the water, we talked about normal date things but then he mentioned he was training for a half marathon and it was pretty hard going whilst recovering. He then faltered which instantly made me curious as to what it was he was recovering from. An alcohol addition? Cocaine? Instagram? Fried chicken?
Perhaps I ought to have changed the subject but I ploughed ahead anyway and, kudos to him, he answered honestly, if with a little hesitation. He had donated a kidney to his mother in the summer and was still not quite back to normal. “Can I see your scar?” I bizarrely blurted out. A bit bemused he lifted his t-shirt and showed me. For the first time, the pale hangover colour faded and was replaced by bright pink.
He is clearly a kind and lovely person but after my prying outbursts, it seems unlikely he’d want to see me again. Lesson learned. Don’t ask to see someone’s scar on a first date.
12 May 2018