On ending dates early

and how to do it well

‘Spare 5 quid please’ the lady in the bright yellow vest quipped at the English man I just met for a pint after exchanging pleasantries on Hinge.

‘I am so sorry I don’t carry cash’ he said, blood flushing through his cheeks.

‘I have a card machine’ she responded assertively, like an American waitress pointing to the ATM when you run out of tipping money.

‘Oh, ok then’ he resigned.

My eyes were already on a journey to my forehead, when I saw him pulling his card out and tapping without another question (which organisation do you represent? what is this money being used for? are you a terrorist?) they were rolling down my back.

‘Erm do you know what she was fundraising for?’

‘No’

‘She could have been from the ‘legalise human sacrifice’ campaign for all you know’

‘I guess so, didn’t think about it haha’

There was no point in trying to conceal my distorted face. Showing my emotions is as ingrained in my culture (Greek) as being pathetic at saying no is in his. He looked embarrassed- as he should be.

Gracefully, I put him out of his misery:

‘Shall we make a move?’