Last night I was supposed to have a date with Alistair, the Scottish guy who works for the NHS.
His profile said that he ‘liked to make sweeping assumptions about people based on their profile pics’. He guessed that I was Irish, liked swing dancing and vintage clothes. I guessed that he was Scottish.
We were messaging last week and he made me giggle. It was easy.
He asked if I wanted to meet up. I said yes. We agreed on this Wednesday night. He told me that he’d been in touch this week to arrange.
This Tuesday night, around 11pm, I was going to bed and still hadn’t heard from him. It was annoying. Pride meant I didn’t want to be the one to message him first but also, I wanted to know if it was still happening so I could make other plans if it wasn’t.
So I messaged him: ‘Hello Alistair, how are you? Just wondering if we’re still on for tomorrow night?’
