My phone rings.

I am sat at a table outside a bar by the Thames with some people off of the Internet. It appears, so far, that none of them have been grooming me, so I am quite relaxed. I know that it is sometimes considered rude to answer your phone when you are out with people, but I honestly believe this is only true when it is other people’s phones.

“Hello Amy.” I say, as I had noticed it was my friend Amy ringing me.

“Hi Angry, err, I’ve got a bit of a problem, this ambulance man won’t let me go until he knows there is someone to meet me at home.”

“Ambulance man? What the hell happened?”

At this point I received a glance or two from the others at the table. When people mention ambulances or hospitals this tends to happen. A lot.

“Well, I fell over walking out of a wine bar, and apparently I briefly knocked myself out cold, and now they won’t let me go home on my own.”

“OK, put the ambulance man on.”

I then received a potted history of the medical professionals involvement in my drunken friends evening. He said she should not be left alone for at least twelve hours because of potential ‘complications’. I did not enquire what they are in case he starts talking about disgusting womens problems. Eurgh.

“OK, call me when you need me to meet you.”

As I retold the story to the others around the table it dawned on me just how much like an ‘emergency’ call this sounded. I have never been on the receiving end of such a call, obviously, but I have heard tales of plumbing emergencies, pet deaths and car accidents that have called people away from meetings with new people at very short notice.

Although this was not a ‘date’, it was clear to me that my fellow drinkers were thinking I had faked an emergency call in order to escape, but in all honesty, I had calculated my chances of being Rohypnoled at less than 4-1 so I had cancelled my own emergency call just minutes earlier. Which is why I turned off my phone.

I have not heard from Amy for a while, but I am sure she is OK. She has a thick skull.

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