Poetry Boy part II

So there I was, in a bar on the other side of the world, specifically in Dubai. The wind was blowing through the gauze in the pink-lit pool bar, where we were sipping pink champagne. I'd love you to imagine this is what my life is like All The Time. But frankly, must confess, it was pretty unusual. Anyway, my pal, the Redhead, who I was holidaying with, had invited her friend C (a Dubai resident) and C's twin who was out there visiting, like us. And in they walk. To this perfect bar. C, and her brother. Who immediately says 'We've met'...

I look nonplussed. He prompts 'At that wedding, last summer?' Reader, that didn't narrow it down. All my friends are merrily trotting down the aisle at the moment. I couldn't place him AT ALL. Immediate thought was naturally that he was someone I'd shagged who I couldn't remember. Then reasoned this couldn't be the case as I'm pretty sure I've never forgotten a shag, but you know how it is... keeping track of the shags is one thing - but the Naked Friends - way trickier.

Anyway, at that moment, we decided to move venue, across town to a free event run by Hendricks gin. (For anyone who hasn't tried it, may I add, YUM.) We went in two cars, thankfully, and he with his twin and the Redhead, leaving me the time to try and work out who the hell he was. And it was in the cab that it dawned on me...

Me: Oh god

Brunette: What?

Me: Oh god. It's Poetry Boy. [brief explanation of below]

Everyone in our cab: Ha ha ha ha ha

Me: No, this isn't funny

Platonic Male Friend: It really is. It's poetry in motion

Brunette: It's poetic justice

PMF: There's no rhyme nor reason

Brunette: Are you a-verse to meeting him again?

Me: OK, you can shut up now.

Rest of the evening was spent drinking gin (good) listening to him witter on (bad), with much reference to our previous banter from him, bemoaning the fact that we'd "lost touch". The girlfriend now apparently "on her way out". I'm like - oh, so it took you 9 months to realise what I think I realised, as soon as it became clear that he'd been emailing me sonnetry whilst still with his girlfriend. Save the poems for the one you're with, buddy. Because, quite frankly, I prefer men who don't flirt with people who aren't their girlfriend. Especially those who justify it as 'not unfaithful', just because they haven't got naked. There's more than one way to cheat, boys.

Anyway, he texted several times the next day. But eventually, with a tiny bit of regret, I wrote 'I am no longer interested in poetry. It's all about prose for me now'. 

I wonder if that's true? Either way, poetry, prose, or random esoteric nonsense, I'm pretty sure he's not The One. I don't think I need verse to seduce me. Just wit, and decency will do. Kthxbye for now...