Time to go

'We're all in the same boat,' she said looking self-consciously around
the room. But judging by her boat race our ship was sinking down to the
level of her sagging breasts. In the shadow of a huge sculpture of a
naked Adonis in the upstairs room of the pub - complete with an
invisibly small penis so as not to raise expectations or inadequacies
among the desperate singletons - Candor moved in for the kill. Smelling
the whiff of desperation like stale urine on a park bench, she reached
her arm across, thought about touching his lapel before grabbing a
handful of samosas. Maybe that's why she is at a singles night. She
turned and looked at her friend and exchanged an indiscrete look of
distraction. She lingered a little longer, wiping a pea from the side
of her mouth, waiting to see if he would make a move himself. Bravely,
and showing the predator's instinct, he moved in for the prawn sesame
toast. 'So have you seen anyone you like?' she said, craning her neck
for some eye contact, as he shuffled in his shoes and reached across
for a napkin. 'Well everyone seems very nice,' he stuttered in his
anxious monotone, eyeing the plate of chicken satay. 'It's not as bad
as I thought it would be. I mean, I've never been to something like
this before. I don't need to, I mean, I came as a bet. But everyone
just seems quite normal and it's quite relaxed. How about you?' He
grabbed the neck of his bottle of nastro beer, taking an urgent swig.
'Have you talked to many people then?' 'Well, you know I only got here
late. But I've spoken to you.' Showing the navigational instinct that
had got him into this barren landscape in the first place, he turned
and headed for the bar. He wandered back, bumping through a room full
of rigid backs and clenched buttocks. As the next beer slid down his
throat easily, he looked around the room for the most uncomfortable
looking person and made his move, stepping from one stilted
conversation to another. 'I'm looking for my Romeo,' she said, holding
her Juliet name tag close to her chest. And Romeo must die of small
talk, he thought, as he stood waiting for something to say. He crumpled
up the piece of paper in his hand with Romeo printed on it, and dropped
it on the floor behind his feet. Behind him, a drunken middle-aged man
had cornered the youngest and prettiest girl in the bar. He heard the
words 'Christian inculcation' and saw the wide-eyed terror of his
reluctant disciple. She looked around for help, but he turned back to
Candor, shook his head and made eyes towards the drunken religious
fundamentalist. 'At least that's not us' he gloated, more confident in
someone else's awkwardness. 'That's my friend,' she said, before
walking off and starting up an immediate conversation with the next
nearest male. Tori - slurring and sliding as the night went on - bumped
into him, spilling her white wine spritzer over his arm. Her name badge
was smudged like mascara, and it read like Toni. 'No,' she cut across.
'That was my dead father's name.' Perhaps it was time to go.