'I have kissed too many frogs' she said after yet another disappointment. 'There is no such thing as too many kisses' she was told by a trusty romantic.
She continued her quest with almost military precision. Five more contacts, she vowed and that will be an end to it. She was tired of applying make-up.
HE was the only one she was interested in she told the friendly romantic. HE was the last one to respond. HE was the only one she agreed to meet. HE sounded quite barking when they spoke on the phone. She was greatly encouraged by this.
They spoke twice before meeting at Charing Cross Station. She was queuing to pay for her ticket. HE walked past her. She turned her back. She found herself nervous. She did NOT do nervous ... despite the frog situation.
She had an overwhelming urge to hide, to jump back on the train and make an excuse for not showing up. She resisted the urge .... actually had to fight it down. She hid behind a pillar watching him.
HE was very dapper. She didn't co-ordinate. HE looked almost cocky. She was very shy. HE looked as though he hadn't a care in the world. She thought her legs might give way underneath her. She text her friendly romantic.... 'oh dear, I like the way he looks' .... the friendly romantic text back 'do I sense a lapse in the rules coming on?'.
She approached him. Suddenly her eyes started watering madly and her mascara proceeded to drip off her chin. HE produced from his pocket a handkerchief ... not a tissue ... a cotton handkerchief for her to wipe her eyes. And, what is more, he walked on the outside.