“The Earth is cracking open, fire is raining from the skies, and the dead are walking the streets of Govan. But all you can think about is getting your end away?”
We’d been in the bar for not half an hour, and I was already screaming inside. He asked the most inane of questions. Made the most shallow innuendos. Everything about him, from his slick hair to his UKIP badges offended me. Sitting next to him made me feel instantly dirty.
And this was our third date.
“Well, if the world’s ending, why not? Can’t hurt, can it?”
“Surely you’d at least attempt something more profound?”
“But why,” he said, “if no one will be around to appreciate it afterwards?”
I stared into my rum and coke. Truth is, I would have agreed with him if it weren’t for the fact that his answer to everything seemed to include shagging something.
The barman rang the bells for last orders. I reached for my coat, feeling around in my pocket for my cigarettes. He straightened his tie and gave me a disgusting look. Ugh, he looked like one of those men who kept their socks on during sex…
“So back to mine then,” he said with a disgusting grin, “for a little rehearsal for the end of the world?”
He put his hand on mine. I shuddered.
Then I picked what was left of my drink and threw it in his face.
“Not if you were the last man on Earth,” I said.