A Coat

“Do you like my new coat?” Mum says, holding the coat of my dreams in front of her. It is black, flares out from the waist, a bit puffy. Its best feature is the enormous furry hood.
The thing is: Mum doesn’t even like coats. She never wears one if she can help it – preferring those sleeveless furry gilets or jackets made of tracksuit material, which she owns in a variety of colours.
“Please may I borrow it?” I say. “I bet the reason that I don’t get any second dates is that the chaps are put off by my falling-to-pieces old coat or…”
“Tell you what,” Mum says, smiling her I-have-a-plan smile. “You can have it, on condition that you get some second dates. Deal?”
“Oh, thank you Mum,” I say, enveloping her in a warm hug. “You can have your old coat back.”
“Remember,” Mum says, “If you fail to get some second dates, I’m reclaiming it.”

I’ve barely taken the coat off since it’s become mine. My feelings for it are intense. It is the coat I’ve been waiting for all my life. But the universe seems determined to take it from me. As can be seen here:

1. Date yesterday was cancelled.
2. There is a planned bus strike tomorrow when am meant to be going on a date that involves one or other of us travelling by bus.
3. The Scandinavian entrepreneur is away until later in the week.
4. There are slim pickings indeed on OK Cupid.

Must not lose heart though. Is vital to keep dating. My relationship with the-coat-love-of-my-life depends on it!


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