Looking for Love

Note: This is a 750 Word Project 2022 story.

It was summer. August, I think. I was sitting outside a newly-refurbished pub in London's West End, enjoying a cold beer with my friend Macca, a big brain, Deputy Director of the Housing Association, and self-acknowledged ladies' man. Macca was telling me about his latest romantic adventure-gone-wrong.

'I knew she was a tad cautious,' he said. 'A bit skittery. So I got myself tested. For STIs. I think the woman at the clinic was a bit surprised to see someone of my age. "Are you sure that you need to do this?" she asked. Nevertheless, we did it. Also, I bought a family-sized box of condoms. And then we headed off to this country house hotel. This romantic hideaway. Well... the brochure claimed that it was a romantic hideaway.

'We checked in, and then we went downstairs for cocktails and a nice dinner. And then it was back up the stairs for a spot of the old rumpy-pumpy. That's when things started to go... well... awry.'

He took a long sup of his ale and stared off into the distance, as if he was trying to recapture the scene.

'For some reason, she got it into her head that the sheets on the bed had not been changed. I'm sure that they had been changed, but, for some reason, she thought otherwise. "We could request a fresh set. Get them to remake the bed," I said. But, no. Her decision was final. No correspondence was to be entered into. She wanted to go home.'

He took another sup of his ale.

'I believe it was Ogden Nash who advised that candy is dandy but liquor is quicker. So I fossicked in the minibar, produced a couple of miniatures, and sloshed their contents into a couple of glasses, along with some ice. "Cheers," I said, hoping for a bit of a shift in her perceptions. But, no. It just made things worse. She then decided that the glasses had not been properly washed.'

I waited for the next stanza of his epic but, before he could deliver it, we were joined by a couple of young ladies of my acquaintance. Macca was delighted. Gone were all thoughts of seduction gone wrong. And he wasted no time in finding chairs for my friends and flagging down a passing server.

The ladies were both at least 30 years Macca's junior. Both lithe and leggy. And, as I recall, both were dressed for the unexpectedly-clement weather. Macca seated them to his advantage, and then re-positioned his own chair in order to enjoy the occasional glance up Gail's rather short skirt while appreciating Sinead's unquestionably delightful décolletage.

We enjoyed a round of drinks, together with some convivial conversation, and then the ladies announced that, regrettably, they were expected elsewhere.

'Nice girls,' Macca said, as the ladies disappeared off in the direction of the Marylebone High Street. 'Might there be a chance there?'

'Alas, both spoken for,' I said. It was not strictly-speaking true. Both had recently issued their long-term boyfriends with marching orders. But I didn't want to get Macca's hopes up.

'But back to your story.'

'My story. Oh, yes,' he said, glumly. 'Well, despite the promise of hard liquor, the lady was not for turning. And the atmosphere became extremely frosty. Extremely frosty. I tried my best. But, shortly before midnight, we checked out and I drove her home to Bromley. Fortunately there is not too much traffic about at that time of night.'

'And so... will there be a car boot sale to dispose of three dozen heavily-discounted -- but unused -- condoms?' I asked.

'Oh, no. I shall try again. But with a more compliant woman. Obviously.'

'Right,' I said.

'You're sure there are no opportunities to be had with your young friends?'

I shook my head.

'Women, eh?' Macca said. 'I've known a good few of them. Known them in the biblical sense, that is. Even married three of them. One of them twice, for heaven's sake. But I'm still not sure that I understand them.

'You know, my introduction to sex -- all those years ago -- was when I accidentally discovered masturbation. I loved it. Right from the very first time. And I still love it. It's so... well... reliable. No worries about whether the sheets have been changed. No worries about whether the glasses have been washed. Just... well... you know.' And he nodded and made a discreet little gesture with his hand.

'Are you ready for another beer?' I asked.