Saturday, 25 June 2016

Take Me Drunk I'm Home by Louise Mangos


‘Be careful,’ you said, after the sixth tequila slammer. We were high on alcohol and laughter, playing spoof at the bar with a handful of twenty pence pieces.

When he absented himself to the men’s room, you leaned across the bar and used words like ‘womaniser’ and ‘cad.’ Your watchful eyes cloaked in a frown when he returned and touched my cheek. I didn’t know whether you were concerned, or jealous of a former stolen conquest. You went back to polishing beer glasses with your threadbare tea towel.

When he told me he had a yacht on the coast, your eyes rolled briefly to the ceiling, and any uncertainty was quashed by my youthful awe. It was a great pick-up line. He might as well have told me he owned a Ferrari. I was pulled in tighter than a jib sailing into the wind.

But when you gently picked me up off the pavement later outside the pub, my lip split and my virtue shattered, I wished I’d listened to you.

2 comments: