You press the flush but instead of swirling away the water rises steadily up the sides of the porcelain bowl and in your head the fear begins to swell because none of the magazines tell you what to do in this situation and even though you think he may be ‘the one’ and you want this to be your first night together and you've planned the seduction down to the last red satin-and-lace detail, a blocked toilet didn’t figure anywhere in your scheme so now you are fighting down the panic and searching frantically for some way to rescue the situation but there is nothing useful in your clutch bag and the only containers in the bathroom are the soap dish, which is far too small to be useful, and his tooth mug, but you can’t bring yourself to dunk that in the lavatory, and if you use the bath towel you will have to explain to him why there is a sodden towel in the tub and anyway the water is almost over the top now and the cistern is continuing to discharge its contents and so, with a sob of despair, you grab your bag and just as the water starts to slop onto the tiled floor you make a dash for the front door snatching up your coat on the way and escape into the night, and tomorrow you will phone to explain and offer to help with the cleaning up and if he is ‘the one’ he will understand and in years to come you will laugh about it together and if he isn’t then it’s better to find out now because who wants to spend the rest of her life with a man who can’t fix a toilet.
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