Part 3 ..

I usually, never, probably don't make
the kind of stupid, blond-moment mistake.
That Alan you all know about, l thought so sincere,
rang me at 11pm, sounding like he's full of beer!

We chatted bout this, an' talked about that.
It got to mid night-o-clock, (l like doing that)
With a promise of dinner, a drink and a laugh,
I wished him 'Good Night', and jumped into my bath.

On Saturday morning, the day after we met.
I felt quite elated, as Alan was a pet.
We arranged through a text, that he'd meet me at five.
so after my work, he was waiting, how nice!

We went for a coffee, well that's what l drank.
He went on the bevvy, and started to plan.
'We must have that dinner, l'll give you a ring.
I'm meeting my mates now, so it ain't happening'.

Now, folks when l told you about Alan, so keen.
l was very happy, as classy he seemed.
But, l feel he saw that l was a bit eager.
He backed-off, withdrew like a spotty, wee teenager.

We were there, sitting amongst Saturdays finest.
George Street was buzzing, and so was my anger.
He made me think l was a fine lass.
Those words of reality bit me on the arse.

The morale/finale of my sorry tale.
It not to be swept up when heartache prevails.
I thought that he liked me, but how wrong was l.
Poor Alan took cold feet, that widower guy ..