The night out begins with me ransacking my wardrobe to find something that still fits over the epic mass of my breasts without smooshing them together in the horror that is uni-boob.
Then the moment of truth comes, will I initiate the exchange of numbers? She’s got no reason to initiate it. She’s settled in her life, her social group. So it’s up to me to make that move. And more often than not, I don’t. I just hope we’ll bump into each other again.