The Date

One reason why Gor holds such attraction for us is that life on Earth can put so many frustrations in our way. The ill luck I had getting a date on a Saturday night is a case in point.

Here's what happened:

I had a list of names in my little black book, so I sent out four invitations, complete with some sweeteners that I thought irresistible, to a selection of exciting treats that I had lined up... and all I got back was excuse after excuse, as follows.

• Alicia wasn't my first choice, but the one I asked just after her “had a prior engagement”.
• I sent a gypsy violinist out with one invitation, but the girl I sent him to gave me the cold shoulder, so then I tried asking Sophie out (without success, of course).
• I really thought Jeri could have come up with something better than claiming she was “washing her hair”; maybe I should have offered her the champagne.
• I was disappointed the theatre invite got a big round of indifference, but it wasn't my last resort.
• Sarah-Michelle refused to have dinner with me, and someone, I shan't tell you who, turned up her nose at a ticket to the movies and a big box of expensive chocolates.
• Oh, and don't believe that old one about sending flowers! The girl I tried it on just trotted out some line about being “off men” at the moment.
• And the last girl I asked out expected me to believe she was “having a quiet night in”.

So there you have it. Now you know the full sorry story - except that I haven't told you who I asked to come to the concert with me. Who was it?